• Presumed Consent

    Last night the Welsh Assembly agreed a new policy of presumed consent with regard to organ donation. Now, instead of opting to become an organ donor, in Wales it will be presumed that a person is willing to donate their organs after death, unless they have opted out.

    I find this one an incredibly tough call, but I think that the Welsh Assembly is wrong. I’m opposed to presumed consent. I think it is wrong.

    And yet I’m in favour of organ donation. I am on the register of organ donors. I recently had to renew my driving license and happily ticked the box indicating that I would be happy to consent to my organs being used to give life to someone else after I die.

    My problem with presumed consent is that I have a problem with presumed anything. The dominant discourse in medical ethics hitherto has been around the the notion of informed consent. Presumed consent undermines this significantly. It also changes the relationship between the state and the individual in a way that makes me feel very uncomfortable.

    It seems to me that the gift of organs after one has died is one of the greatest gifts that can be made. This legislation takes away from that sense of giftedness.

    I’m opposed on pastoral grounds too. For many relatives the idea that they can consent to the donation of healthy organs from someone who is at the point of death is a wonderful and powerful thing. If the decision is no longer theirs then something has gone which has mattered to many.

    If I needed an organ donation then I’ve no doubt I would long for anything that made more organs available. However, if I ask myself whether I would want to receive an organ from someone without knowing whether or not they wanted that procedure to happen I find myself having to think long and hard. Would I want an organ from someone who’s relatives were opposed to the organ removal? Organ donation can currently help people’s grieving processes. It now has the potential to complicate grief immesurably for some.

    People often don’t know what it will feel like when someone dies. The ability to make decisions at that time is crucial. Removing the possibility of decision making concerns me greatly. Some urgently want whatever good that can come from a death to come to pass. However others don’t want a body to be touched more th an is necessary either. I’ve no doubt that some will see this as a violation and the way that they will cope with the death in those circumstances is entirely unknown to us but cannot be easy.

    We are not simply flesh that the state owns and from which it can harvest. Somehow I can’t get away from the idea that we are more than that and that our laws should recognise that.

    I’m not really aware of how the debate about this has gone in Wales. I’ve been paying attention to other moral discussions here recently. These are just my initial instictive reactions to news reports today.

    As I said at the outset, I don’t find that a comfortable position to come to or to articulate. However, uncomfortable decisions are precisely what life makes us make.

    What do you think?

9 responses to “The Lament Question”

  1. kimberly Avatar

    ask it in the singular, and the answer is: because you’re a four.

    you’ll have me playing the funeral ikos next.

  2. kimberly Avatar

    the other answer is about possibility being revealed in limits.

  3. kelvin Avatar

    Its not just me though, and not just fours.

  4. Aaron Orear Avatar

    I think because sorrow touches the core of the human condition – we are mortal but can perceive immortality. “He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.” (Eccl. 3:11)

  5. Erp Avatar
    Erp

    I understand Aristotle talks about catharsis and various philosophers have followed up on that idea.

    Perhaps it arouses sadness both from the art itself but also from our own sources festering within and allows us to let go. We feel better for the letting go, the lessening of our own internal sadness, and so perceive the art as beautiful.

  6. RosemaryHannah Avatar
    RosemaryHannah

    Kimberly was there before me. However, even I, a nine, can sometimes see the beauty in sad things. For me they do two things (may be more but two are most obvious). The first is the catharsis thing. The second is to make me less lonely. Look, here am I weeping, but all around me people sit in the same sorrow. It is not just my sorrow – I am not alone.

    I have long thought there is another answer, one I do not properly understand but I have (I think – and who am I to think it). Deep in God there is a huge well of sorrow. Unless we experience sorrow we cannot understand God. When we sorrow we tap into that well, and become closer to him.

    And being a nice cheerful nine, I will now add that I live in hope that having sorrowed with him, we will share also and even more fully in the joy which swallows the sorrow. Delete this last paragraph from your mind on reading, it will only spoil the joy of the sorrow.

  7. Elizabeth Avatar
    Elizabeth

    Edgar Allan Poe said the most beautiful thing in the world is a beautiful, dead woman. Nice, eh?

  8. Ritualist Robert Avatar
    Ritualist Robert

    Surely it’s because the concept of beauty is independent from concepts such as ‘sadness’ and ‘happiness’ – just as a G major chord might be loud or soft, but that volume has no effect on its G major-ness.

  9. Steve Avatar
    Steve

    I remember Augustine saying (don’t ask me where) that for a picture to be beautiful it requires dark colours as well as bright.

    There is also a hint of an answer in this poem by Edwin Muir:

    Yet still from Eden springs the root
    As clean as on the starting day.
    Time takes the foliage and the fruit
    And burns the archetypal leaf
    To shapes of terror and of grief
    Scattered along the winter way.
    But famished field and blackened tree
    Bear flowers in Eden never known.

    Blossoms of grief and charity
    Bloom in these darkened fields alone.
    What had Eden ever to say
    Of hope and faith and pity and love
    Until was buried all its day
    And memory found its treasure trove?
    Strange blessings never in Paradise
    Fall from these beclouded skies.

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