Anyone with a shred of decenty would like to see suffering prevented if ve could. At the same time, many people think suicide is wrong.
Cirsad* reaches the age of twenty-one and discovers that he is strongly sexually attracted to children. After a good round of cursing God for how he is made, he sits down to think through his life. He considers (briefly) the possibility of entering therapy for his condition, but a little research quickly shows that “treatment” for his condition really doesn’t work very much an is rather appaling besides. Also, being no fool, Cirsad is aware that claims of “successful” treatment need to be view skeptically, given psychiatry’s institutional self interest in promoting itself. (After all, it’s a fine path to wealth and status if you can turn stigmatized variants on being human into “diseases” for which you can claim to have a “cure.”)
Cirsad is not a monster and he is not a saint. He neither wants to cause suffering to innocent others nor does he have an unlijited capacity for absorbing suffering himself. But he knows that his future contains great suffering for either other or himself or both. If he resists his desires, he will spend his life being tormented by them. If he acts on them, he will ruin other lives. Even if he never gives in to his desires, Cirsad knows he will be hated by most of humanity just for what he is, and so he will have to spend his entire life behind a mask. And if he does give in, there is a great likelihood he will be caught in time, undergo social death and spend most or all of the rest of his wretched life in prison. All futures are bleak. There is no escape.
Except one. Ater some reflection, Cirsad concludes that there is really only one thing he wants, which is a prescription for nine grams of Nembutal.
Moral conservatives, who presumably believe in the moral unacceptability of suicide, please explain why it is so much better for Cirsad to be denied his prescription and be forced to live. In you answer, please be adults and leave off the God-talk. That shit has long since passed its sell-by date.
Everyone else think hard on this: aren’t we all just a bit like Cirsad?
*Given the sensitivity of the issue I am deliberately using a silly-sounding, made-up name that to the best of my knowledge and belief isn’t actually anyone’s name. If I’m wrong, please keep in mind that Cirsad is a fictional character. Return to main text.