Hello reader!
Please see below for the final idea I ‘may or may not have thought about’ from The Argonauts.
Thanks for reading.
Tim
What are the bare truths about abortion? It’s a choice and a child? Perhaps the crux of the issue is that sometimes we humans choose death.
Sometimes, people choose death… not an original thought, for sure, but one that I think I’d always just glossed over. When I came across it in this most recent reread of The Argonauts, I paused and finally thought it through.
The thought of choosing death lurks in the background of my hospice experiences. Some would argue that this choice is the start of the hospice experience, an assertion I understand and agree with generally (1). At some point, a doctor determined a patient had six months or less to live and the patient (or an appointed medical proxy) decided hospice care was the most appropriate course of action given the circumstances.
And yet, despite interacting with so many who are in this process, I find it unusual whenever I interact with those who live comfortably in the shadowy reality of death. And why should they? Reader, here comes a profound statement – death is difficult. Rare is the person able to process death without additional work. It takes a lot of effort to think about death and a lot of personal growth to cultivate the empathy needed to be with another as this work takes place.
The hospice experience is similar to another idea I’ve heard more about recently – doctor-assisted suicide. In these cases, a terminal patient chooses death over the prospect of living through the inevitable decline. This is often considered a good option for those whose symptoms will not respond to pain medicine. As far as I know, this is already allowed in some European countries and in the process of legislative approval in others. (I’m sure readers can guess which American states are currently considering bringing this idea into law.)
As it is with hospice, the discussion around doctor-assisted suicide reveals a profound lesson – death is difficult. I don’t know exactly why this is. Or, I should say, I know why it is, because it is death. I just don’t know how to explain why it is. As with any difficult explanation, I think a large part of the issue is not having the right preparation – I don’t have the right words, I don’t have the right thinking, and I don’t have the right empathy. I’ve seen it happen over and over in hospice situations – families, friends, and even caregivers don’t use the right words, don’t use the right thinking, and don’t use the right empathy. I’ve been there. I’m struck by the same thought whenever I look into the debates going on around the world about doctor-assisted suicide – the discussion doesn’t use the right words, doesn’t use the right thinking, and doesn’t use the right empathy (2).
I don’t think most of us are very well equipped to talk about certain topics. Despite this, we choose, almost recklessly at times, to jump into the conversation and take up a position. I advise against recklessness. I advise against making decisions before gathering all the information because it is reckless, because it does not account for the unknown, because it extends the authority of knowingness to well-meaning but ignorant voices.
When I look at the various deliberations I’ve referenced here – the individual decisions about entering hospice, the legislative conversations about doctor-assisted suicide, and, yes, the general debate about abortion – I’m struck by how reckless the discourse is. To tell someone else what to do with their body, and how, is violent, and just because this violence comes through speech, decrees, or even empathy doesn’t mean it is any different than striking someone with a hand or stomping someone with a foot.
Dismissing violence with ill-advised words denies victims the right today’s societies build their foundations upon - choice. Legislated violence dismisses the basic process of crime and punishment otherwise enforced against those who exert their will over another person. Citing empathy to justify violence means a refusal to acknowledge a violent act for what it is. Someone who has thought through violence doesn’t say – well, I’m against violence, except when – because thinking through violence is the process of erasing the flimsy distinction between conditional acceptance and full support.
Most importantly, violence erodes the trust people have in each other to make the right choices for themselves and their bodies. When this trust is lost, under-informed decisions create division and division creates conflict. And conflict leads to a further erosion of trust…
I don't think there is a special solution to stop the cycle here. But it can’t hurt to at least try and reduce the casual instances of violence going on, right? It can’t hurt to at least try and learn the words, thinking, and empathy that will do this. Or, maybe the approach comes from the other direction – maybe it means no longer using the words, thinking, or empathy that imposes one’s will over another. I think stopping the cycle starts with a simple commitment to stop telling others what to do with their bodies. If we all commit to this approach, to simply doing less of a violent thing, then perhaps we’ll take a step forward to a less violent future.
Footnotes / usually, these are separate posts, but I’d rather just get all my thoughts into one place on this one.
0. Dodging writing about abortion again?
I don't have the right words...
1. I’m worried about victim-blaming here…
I’m not sure if ‘choose’ applies in every hospice case. Some people no longer have the capacity to make decisions about how they receive medical care. It might be accurate to say these patients ‘chose’ hospice in the sense that they may have indicated prior to falling ill what their wishes would be under particular circumstances. But I think these patients ‘choose’ hospice in the same way a captain ‘chooses’ to go down with the ship (or, at least, stand at the back of the line for the last lifeboat).
In other cases, patients give consent. But is this a choice? People who are desperately ill are just like anybody else – they want the best care possible. They might agree to enter hospice, to ‘choose’ hospice if you will, but this is a decision entirely separate from a willingness to live or die. If they thought the choice ‘to live’ was available to them, I’m almost entirely sure they would make this choice.
2. I’m worried about being too lyrical here…
I think this ‘right words, right thinking, right empathy’ device is a better example of writing than thinking. In using the repetition to make the rhythm flow a little better, I might be implying that there is a set of ‘right’ words, thinking, or empathy. There probably isn’t, or at least, there probably isn’t in the way I would scribble down the ‘right’ ingredients for a baked Alaska. But that doesn’t exempt us from seeking out the words, thinking, or empathy that best serves a given situation.
