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Editorial |
Murder by Metaphor
The Terri Schiavo case still glows, but with diminished heat. Although much has been said and written, we are not aware that the reason for her death has been analyzed with any precision in the popular media. Those following the case will probably tell you that a Florida judge named Greer ordered Terri’s caregivers to refrain from giving her nourishment, and thus she died of starvation and thirst.
Exactly why this judge so ruled was never made clear in news reports. The Schiavo case, tailor-made for the twenty-four-hour cable news channels, had the drama of life and death, the suspense of an unknown outcome, constant new developments, the braying punditry of the “I am right, you are nuts” variety, and heartrending visuals of poor Terri. While all of this made for good ratings, it failed dismally in the domain of sober analysis.
The law that mandated the death of Terri Schiavo was not the brainchild of any legislative, judicial, or executive branch of government. It did not arise from grassroots populism. The law came from experts. It originated from within the healing professions and specifically from the group of physicians who serve healthcare institutions as experts in medical ethics. These bioethicists, as they are called, have been impaneled to sort though the dilemmas that confront the medical profession in an era of rapidly advancing technology and scientific discovery. Their purpose is to steer medical practitioners through the shark-infested waters of malpractice suits, complex insurance regulations, and government oversight.
What the ordinary citizen might see as prolonged unconsciousness, bioethicists call “brain death.” What we outsiders might understand as a wakeful coma brought about by an injury to the brain, bioethicists label a “persistent vegetative state.” Legislators listen to bioethicists because it takes them off the hook. But we ordinary people know that no human being was ever a vegetable and that no human being was ever brain dead—unless they were dead. People do not retreat in stages from the human state through the animal to the vegetable and finally to utter dissolution.
This bioethical labeling is not aimed at the welfare of the patients—it is not designed to improve their care. It is designed to protect the caregivers. Hence when bioethics proclaims it is acceptable medical prac- tice to kill those who are mere vegetables, and espe- cially living vegetables whose brains have died, care- givers are granted a license to kill. It is an added nice- ty that the unfortunate patients under this system are starved to death. This makes it appear that we are per- mitting death to take its natural course. A lethal injec- tion or, for that matter, a bullet to the brain would seem too, well, overt.
Hundreds of people like Terri Schiavo die every year, not because they are in the process of natural death, but because their caregivers kill them. How did bioethicists persuade lawmakers to accept this grue- some practice?
Like this.
The human heart is a muscular organ that pumps blood through the circulatory system, yet we often speak as though the heart were the actual seat of feel- ings. The heart does beat harder or faster when we experience strong emotions. We speak of our heart’s desire, a broken heart, a heart of gold, a heart of stone. Tony Bennett left his heart in San Francisco, and Celine Dion says her heart will go on.
But it is not literally the human heart that experiences love—it is the human being. We use the heart as a metaphor or symbol, a material object representing something immaterial. In a similar way, an open win- dow can stand for receptivity. But when Pope John XXIII said his goal was “to open the windows of the Church to the modern world,” no one thought he wanted to send a work crew to St. Peter’s to remove all the stained glass. Everyone understood that he was using a metaphor—open windows as a symbol for intel- lectual openness. Terri’s parents were heartbroken, but nobody took this so literally that a cardiologist was called in to deal with their injured hearts.
In a similar way we use the brain to symbolize intelligence. The brain, like the heart, is a physical organ, a part of human anatomy with specific biologi- cal functions. Because it is the processor of sensory information, of course we associate the brain with thinking. We say a dunce is brainless, a genius is brainy, and if he had half a brain he’d give up golf. But it is not literally, but rather metaphorically, that the brain is said to think. The human being thinks; the brain does not.
Some years ago, there was an enormous cloud of confusion about this matter because of the debate about “artificial intelligence.” It was argued that the human brain is essentially a computer, or a biological organ that acts on computational principles. This led to the belief that computers could actually achieve humanlike intelligence. Everyone now realizes—with the exception of ideologically-driven extremists—that no matter the speed and complexity of operation, computing can never be more than the mindless manipulation of bits of information.
The experts said Terri was no longer human because her brain was incapable
of human intelligence and will. The experts persuaded lawmakers and judges
that what is no more than a figure of speech should be taken literally.
And, as we now know, giving a metaphor the force of law can kill you.