Paternalism, disability, and the right to die.

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There is an insidious and growing movement in America, a movement that has shoved its way into the mainstream, a movement that threatens everyone, particularly those of us who are disabled: that of the so-called right to die.

It is a soft June afternoon and we feel upbeat. June is a splendid month--a month for brides, graduates, and tourists; a month that reminds us why we love living. But the vibrancy of June, the crisp beauty of October, the generosity of December, are lost on some. They are lost on those who have given up hope, who feel there is nothing to embrace but death.

Depressing?

Consider the story of Kenneth Bergstedt, a thirty-one year old quadriplegic from Las Vegas.

Bergstedt was mentally alert.(1) He wrote poetry with the aid of a special computer.(2) He had friends.(3)

This young man lived only with his father.(4) The two used to travel a lot and visit with friends. But as time went on, his father said, Bergstedt grew too weak to travel, adding that friends used to "come over and he's not feeling good and they feel guilty and then they don't show up anymore."(5) Bergstedt's father, who had lost a leg in an industrial accident, began to complain constantly about his health(6) and was eventually diagnosed as having lung cancer.(7) In court papers, Bergstedt said that he feared that he would be alone after his father died and asked to have his respirator removed.(8)

A psychiatrist said that Bergstedt was "alert and intelligent."(9) Bergstedt could have worked and otherwise enjoyed his life.

But this sad soul spent most of his time watching the television or lying in darkness, his only company the hiss of a respirator.(10) Bergstedt had no contact with the disability community,(11) no contact with others in his condition who could share his struggles and triumphs. In a five-page affidavit to the court, Bergstedt's father stated that his son "had no encouraging expectations to look forward to from life, receives no enjoyment from life, lives with constant fears and apprehensions and is tired of suffering."(12)

Obviously, Bergstedt was severely depressed. And who could blame him? Depression would haunt anyone, quadriplegic or not, who never left the bed. But was it right for Bergstedt to cure his depression by disconnecting his respirator?

In a similar case, psychologist Carol Gill said in an affidavit:

In the vast majority of cases, when a severely ill or disabled person

persists in wanting to die, there is an identifiable problem in the support

system.... All too often, they are surrounded by people who accept their

desire to die as understandable. All too rarely is that desire adequately examined, challenged, or opposed....(13) We fail to look underneath that desire to die, talking instead about politically correct "rights." But is there really a right to die? Have we grown so enamored with the "rights" mentality that we cast aside the state's intrinsic respect for life?

Proponents of the right to die recognize the dangerous ground they tread. So they use euphemisms to soften the reality. Why did the Euthanasia Society of America feel compelled to change its name to the Society for the Right to Die? Why did the court rule that Bergstedt's ingestion of a lethal dose of sedatives was not suicide, but regulation of his own medical care?(14)

It is this rights-driven mentality that propelled a self-help book for those who wish to commit suicide to the top of the best-seller lists.(15) And it is frightening.

In his impassioned column criticizing Initiative 119--Washington state's proposition to legalize doctor-assisted suicide for the terminally ill--columnist John West explains the cost of this fashionable trend:

Once one removes the presumption that...