Sacramento, California
It was every liberal's dream of diverse, grass-roots political activism: more than a hundred people demonstrating angrily in front of the California state capitol against pending legislation that threatened people who are poor, who are disabled, and who are vulnerable. Disability-rights activists in wheel-chairs marched in solidarity with white medical professionals, alongside African-American clergy and advocates for the poor, next to Latino migrant farm workers and Catholics praying the rosary.
Some liberals, however, were displeased by this show of diversity. For Democratic assembly-women Dion Aroner of Berkeley and Sheila Kuehl of Santa Monica, for example, the protest was only the latest frustration. Aroner is the author of AB 1592, a bill to legalize physician-assisted suicide, and Kuehl is a leading supporter. Conventional wisdom had held that the bill would move swiftly and easily through the committee process and onto the assembly floor for quick approval. But the grass-roots coalition that had sprung up to oppose it had slowed the bill's progress to a crawl.
In contrast with the monochrome proponents of assisted suicide -- all "white, well-off, well, and worried," as disability-rights activist Diane Coleman puts it -- the opponents "look like America." For hours, they demonstrated on the sidewalk, walking in a circle and chanting robustly:
Kill the bill, not the ill!
We won't take your deadly pill!
This is what we're going to do:
Kill AB 1592!
One in four in this state are poor,
Medical care has closed its doors:
All of us want to stay alive!
We don't want your
suicide!
One, two, three four,
Death-squad medicine will kill the poor:
Five, six, seven, eight,
Stop 1592 before it's too late!
California has always been the prize most avidly sought by assisted-suicide advocates. The first modern attempt to legalize euthanasia in this country was mounted in California in 1988, when proponents gathered signatures for an initiative. That effort fell short, but the proponents were able to place Proposition 161 on the ballot for the November 1992 election. Although the early polls put it ahead with more than 70 percent support, California voters nixed the euthanasia and assisted-suicide measure by 54 percent to 46 percent. Now, with rich philanthropists such as George Soros and foundations like the Gerbode Foundation of San Francisco behind the effort, and with the governor's mansion and legislature in Democratic hands, advocates sensed the time was ripe to strike and win.
First stop for AB 1592 was the Judiciary Committee, chaired by Sheila Kuehl. The committee was weighted heavily in favor of passage, with nine Democrats, five Republicans, and the newly elected Green party assemblywoman from Oakland, Audie Bock, whose first big vote would be about 1592.
On the day the measure was heard, April 20, 1999, more than 50 opponents crowded the committee room, alongside fewer than 10 supporters. One would have thought that a proposal as momentous as permitting doctors to facilitate the intentional deaths of their patients would require a deep exploration of the pros and cons. Kuehl didn't see matters this way. She permitted only brief testimony from two witnesses on each side. Supporters pushed the "choice" button. Opponents brought up objections often overlooked in media accounts of the assisted-suicide debate. For example, an assisted suicide costs only $ 35, while proper treatment for the same patient might cost $ 35,000. In the era of managed care, the financial force of gravity is obvious. The threat assisted suicide poses to disabled people was also stressed. Professor Paul Longmore, a nationally recognized disability-rights activist who teaches history at San Francisco State University, testified that "fear of disability underlies assisted suicide," noting that "a dozen major disability-rights organizations strongly oppose it."
|