Beneath the sterile guise of compassion and autonomy lurks a more chilling verdict: what if the so-called “right” to assisted suicide is not liberation, but the first, quiet step toward a sanctioned purge? The ghost of Glucksburg now haunts the modern age, its doctrine of “deeply rooted history and tradition” wielded like a scythe to sever what it deems mere modern inventions—those fragile rights to bodily sovereignty that, to its archaic gatekeepers, smell of societal decay. Thus, the individual’s desperate choice is reframed not as dignity, but as a symptom of a sick age, paving a dark road where the state, cloaked in the majesty of precedent, becomes the arbiter of which sufferings are legitimate and which lives are, by the cold logic of tradition, expendable. In this grim calculus, the future holds not self-determination, but a silent, bureaucratic culling, all blessed by the black letter of a resurrected past.
Hippocratic oath: Do no harm.




