GoodPersonEffed
Brevity is my middle name, but my name was TL
- Jan 11, 2020
- 6,727
The first philosophy class I ever took was called The Philosophy of Human Rights. Many of us who took the class had never taken philosophy before.
At the beginning of the course, the professor instructed us to set our own ethics and beliefs aside, and to engage with each topic presented from the perspectives of the philosophers we were introduced to.
Some folks had a really difficult time with that. One of the topics was the right to die. I remember one classmate, a Catholic, was offended and emotional. In the context of the discussion, in which someone was in a nursing home and suffering, her stance was that the person's family should be there for them, thereby overriding the choice for euthanasia. I got emotional in reaction to her, and answered from my perspective rather than that of a philosopher. I said that I was single and didn't want children, and it was likely that I would be alone when I was older, so her argument wasn't universally applicable.
I cannot say this for certain, but I think most if not all humans have a natural tendency to experience others' problems from our own personal and limited perspectives, and therefore may want to deny others a choice that conflicts with what we could choose for ourselves.
For example, I may think another's method, or how they choose to experience the method, is too painful. It's as if I myself am experiencing the method and, with it, my own lack of tolerance for pain, and so my first instinct may be to want to stop the other person from experiencing that which I don't want.
Or I may strongly desire what I consider a peaceful method, while others do not, and it's difficult to accept their choice, perhaps because I may experience it as accepting the choice for myself as well when I absolutely would not.
In both of these instances, I am able to detach and to tolerate others' choices, as well as vocally support the choices.
But then there's the idea of a method's reliability. It's hard for me to fathom that some folks would rather attempt with an unreliable method, even after receiving sufficient and verifiable data that it is likely to not result in death.
As with painful methods, I have to take myself out of the consideration, and acknowledge that the other person may not be approaching the attempt from the same stance as I would; in this case, my personal goal would be the definitive end of life as the result of the attempt, not rescue, hospitalization, physical injury, long-term recovery, permanent damage, or sectioning.
I am uncomfortable with all of these outcomes, and as with painful methods, it's my discomfort that I ultimately have to deal with, not the option to survive the attempt, nor the person choosing it. In reflection, I think that, for humans, it is an internal deception that it is far easier to confront and try to change the external, even when it is clearly beyond our control, than to face, explore, and grapple with the internal.
The hardest scenario for me is when someone chooses to involve an unwilling other in their attempt, such as the train method, suicide by cop, or jumping into traffic, because the person wielding the means to die is not given a choice, so it is not a truly pro-choice scenario.
This is a likely incomplete summary of the arguments I have thus far seen in defense of proxy methods: generalizations about what training those in official capacities have to prepare them for such an event, and what benefits will be available to them for recovery; generalizations about how the other will not be deeply affected, won't care, and/or will recover quickly; that the one considering the option does not have the ability to also consider another's pain alongside or as equal to their own; or, simply, that this is the method they choose.
I hesitate to say this because I recognize there may be some hubris in it, but I have yet to see a truly rational argument to validate the choice of a proxy method. However, if such an argument exists and I discover it, I would be likely to present such a stance in support of the member considering that option, in spite of its unpopularity. For me to adopt it, it would have to be both rational and ethical, such as a Stoic argument.
Until then, my stance is to argue against such a method with what I perceive as reason, and appeal to that member's reason. If the person considering the method does not accept my reasoning, then I accept that their opinions, feelings, choices are not within my control, are likely not fully conceivable to me for a variety of internal and external reasons, and, ultimately, I may not be right anyway, if rightness even exists.
When I remember to, I follow up internally with a little supplemental Buddhist philosophy, sincerely wishing for the well-being of all involved, and then detach.
I am no saint, my shit most assuredly stinks, and I hope it's clear that this essay was no sermon. It's a personal reflection of my perceptions and my ethics, and how they continue to develop within the context of the forum. Many folks here speak and explore their hearts and thoughts in a variety of ways; personal essays are a way in which I speak and explore mine, and receive responsive feedback that helps me to either develop or, if needed, alter them.
At the beginning of the course, the professor instructed us to set our own ethics and beliefs aside, and to engage with each topic presented from the perspectives of the philosophers we were introduced to.
Some folks had a really difficult time with that. One of the topics was the right to die. I remember one classmate, a Catholic, was offended and emotional. In the context of the discussion, in which someone was in a nursing home and suffering, her stance was that the person's family should be there for them, thereby overriding the choice for euthanasia. I got emotional in reaction to her, and answered from my perspective rather than that of a philosopher. I said that I was single and didn't want children, and it was likely that I would be alone when I was older, so her argument wasn't universally applicable.
I cannot say this for certain, but I think most if not all humans have a natural tendency to experience others' problems from our own personal and limited perspectives, and therefore may want to deny others a choice that conflicts with what we could choose for ourselves.
For example, I may think another's method, or how they choose to experience the method, is too painful. It's as if I myself am experiencing the method and, with it, my own lack of tolerance for pain, and so my first instinct may be to want to stop the other person from experiencing that which I don't want.
Or I may strongly desire what I consider a peaceful method, while others do not, and it's difficult to accept their choice, perhaps because I may experience it as accepting the choice for myself as well when I absolutely would not.
In both of these instances, I am able to detach and to tolerate others' choices, as well as vocally support the choices.
But then there's the idea of a method's reliability. It's hard for me to fathom that some folks would rather attempt with an unreliable method, even after receiving sufficient and verifiable data that it is likely to not result in death.
As with painful methods, I have to take myself out of the consideration, and acknowledge that the other person may not be approaching the attempt from the same stance as I would; in this case, my personal goal would be the definitive end of life as the result of the attempt, not rescue, hospitalization, physical injury, long-term recovery, permanent damage, or sectioning.
I am uncomfortable with all of these outcomes, and as with painful methods, it's my discomfort that I ultimately have to deal with, not the option to survive the attempt, nor the person choosing it. In reflection, I think that, for humans, it is an internal deception that it is far easier to confront and try to change the external, even when it is clearly beyond our control, than to face, explore, and grapple with the internal.
The hardest scenario for me is when someone chooses to involve an unwilling other in their attempt, such as the train method, suicide by cop, or jumping into traffic, because the person wielding the means to die is not given a choice, so it is not a truly pro-choice scenario.
This is a likely incomplete summary of the arguments I have thus far seen in defense of proxy methods: generalizations about what training those in official capacities have to prepare them for such an event, and what benefits will be available to them for recovery; generalizations about how the other will not be deeply affected, won't care, and/or will recover quickly; that the one considering the option does not have the ability to also consider another's pain alongside or as equal to their own; or, simply, that this is the method they choose.
I hesitate to say this because I recognize there may be some hubris in it, but I have yet to see a truly rational argument to validate the choice of a proxy method. However, if such an argument exists and I discover it, I would be likely to present such a stance in support of the member considering that option, in spite of its unpopularity. For me to adopt it, it would have to be both rational and ethical, such as a Stoic argument.
Until then, my stance is to argue against such a method with what I perceive as reason, and appeal to that member's reason. If the person considering the method does not accept my reasoning, then I accept that their opinions, feelings, choices are not within my control, are likely not fully conceivable to me for a variety of internal and external reasons, and, ultimately, I may not be right anyway, if rightness even exists.
When I remember to, I follow up internally with a little supplemental Buddhist philosophy, sincerely wishing for the well-being of all involved, and then detach.
I am no saint, my shit most assuredly stinks, and I hope it's clear that this essay was no sermon. It's a personal reflection of my perceptions and my ethics, and how they continue to develop within the context of the forum. Many folks here speak and explore their hearts and thoughts in a variety of ways; personal essays are a way in which I speak and explore mine, and receive responsive feedback that helps me to either develop or, if needed, alter them.
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