Ethical Issues and Euthanasia

Booker Prize-winning novel Amsterdam by Ian Mcewan is not really about euthanasia per se; it is about the twisted relationships between the two main characters, Clive Linley, composer, and Vernon Halliday, newspaper editor. Deeply affected by the death of their mutual friend and lover Molly Lane, Clive and Vernon agree that if they should ever exhibit the symptoms of some deadly illness, that they agree to assist the other in euthanasia. Thus, the two friends initially start out by presenting a view of euthanasia that is strongly ethical; euthanasia is a meaningful and sometimes even necessary means to alleviate unnecessary suffering. After all, life is already filled with enough suffering. Extension of life by a matter of days, weeks, or even years does not necessarily equate with promoting the values inherent to a good quality of life.

As the events of the novel progress, however, Vernon and Clive demonstrate that their ethical reasoning is not as cogent as it appeared at the onset. Vernon and Clive reveal their ethical egoism, particularly in Vernon's wish to destroy Julian Garmony's career and in Clive's having a bystander effect problem. After a heated argument in which each one presumes moral superiority over his friend, Clive and Vernon turn their euthanasia compact into a means of murder. Doing so totally twists and distorts the meaning of euthanasia, and its less-likely-to-be-abused cousin, physician-assisted suicide. Mcewan therefore presents multiple points-of-view regarding euthanasia without offering a truly deep ethical analysis of how the practice can realistically go awry. The situation between Vernon and Clive is hyperbolic and for dramatic effect.

Therefore, Amsterdam shows more about its caddish, conniving characters than it does about the ethics of euthanasia. It is not the law itself but how it is used that is the issue, which is precisely why regulations are in place for when patients invoke their right to die with dignity. Sure, Vernon and Clive abuse their privileges, but in reality, the outcome of the story could scarce have happened in real life. Real euthanasia laws tend to avoid the kinds of problems that allow Vernon and Clive to carry out their nefarious schemes. Still, Mcewan builds tension delightfully, and showcases the egoism, harsh utilitarianism, and ethical relativism that have become too commonplace.

Moreover, the ethics of journalism become a more poignant undercurrent than euthanasia too -- even though Vernon's paper had been showcasing features on the new euthanasia law in the Netherlands. Mcewan does not actually make a case one way or another for or against euthanasia. He shows how, using the example of Molly, physician-assisted suicide could have minimized her suffering and that this is precisely why physician-assisted death should be legal as it is in the Netherlands. At the same time, Mcewan shows how physician-assisted death can be abused -- if it is used in a coercive way, to replace patient autonomy, or in any way to violate ethical precepts. Ultimately, the reader comes away with a great sense of personal responsibility. If people are to be entrusted with the right to choose their manner of death, then when and how can the system delimit that right? The broader question is how to prevent abuses of power, not to take away the right of a person like Molly to die with dignity.

The euthanasia pact is a darkly humorous interjection into the debate. It has no legal bearing. Their plot could never reasonably be carried out the way it occurs in the novel; euthanasia is not designed to be a method of homicide. What Vernon and Clive do is simply order a hit on each other; that is hardly euthanasia and reading too much into the euthanasia theme would be doing a great disservice to the public health and bioethics committees that have worked so hard to have physician-assisted death made legal in countries like the Netherlands and Canada.

The faulty, self-righteous, egoistic ethics of Clive and Vernon should therefore not be mistaken for the logical reasoning used when judging the pros and cons of euthanasia itself. Yet Amsterdam is about moral ambiguity. No character is a saint. Clive, Vernon, Julian, and George all loved Molly, even though Molly had been cheating on George. Julian is a politician, already painted with the brush of scandal by the very fact of his profession. Clive's ethics are arguably the most twisted of the bunch; witnessing a rape and failing to report it for utterly selfish reasons could be characterized as sociopathy; yet Vernon shows he is little better than his friend. If Vernon felt as strongly as he did about Clive's behavior, he should have gone to the police himself and implicated Clive as obstructing justice. Vernon is just as self serving as Clive in this incidence, even if he can be somewhat forgiven for passing on the photos of Julian to the media even if, as Clive suggests, Molly would not have wanted him to do that. Selfishness is the theme of the book, the characteristic that most closely binds Clive and Vernon together.

Amsterdam also explores the differences between how one perceives themselves, and how they are perceived in the world. Clive and Vernon both have shallow identities; they only care about themselves. The only way the novel succeeds in spite of unlikeable protagonists is because of its complexity. Mcewan shifts back and forth between the two characters, allowing Clive and Vernon to take turn telling their stories. This unique literary style underscores the author's desire to show both sides of every issue. Unfortunately, in the case of Amsterdam, Clive and Vernon end up being too much alike each other for that back-and-forth to be useful. Had only one of them succeeded in carrying out the nefarious plan, and then had to live with the guilt later, the novel might have imparted even greater ethical complexity. As it stands, the entire tale seems more about the dreadful limitations of human selfishness. Being self-centered ends up backfiring.