No one can read about “Martin” – his name has been withheld in order to protect his privacy – without feeling desperately sorry for him. Three years ago, at the age of 43, he suffered a catastrophic stroke which left him almost totally paralysed: he can move his eyes, but that’s about it.  Before his stroke, he was a fit and active man. Now he spends every hour lying in bed, able to feel the pain from his body but not to move it, managing to communicate only by staring at letters on a special computer which responds to his eye movements and allows him to spell out words.  Martin finds his life torture. He would rather be dead. But he is unable to commit suicide. If he is to die, someone else will have to kill him. The trouble is, no one he knows is willing to do the deed. His wife says she’s not prepared to help him die; nor is any other member of his family. If his life is to end, an outsider – presumably a doctor – will have to kill him. But under the guidelines for prosecutors that came into force in 2010, only family members motivated by “compassion” can escape prosecution for murder if they help someone to die. Doctors and other professionals will, if convicted, be imprisoned and stripped of their licence to practise.  For any doctor thinking of hastening Martin’s death, this is something of a disincentive – which is why he has started a lawsuit. He wants the courts to indemnify from prosecution any professional who helps him to die. His lawyers are basing his case on the idea that he is being discriminated against: to avoid a violation of human rights law, they say, people who are not part of his family should have the same exemption from prosecution that his blood relatives enjoy.  Should we want Martin’s case to succeed? Certainly, it would be horribly cruel if he were forced to continue living a life that is agony for him. At the same time, there are some very good reasons for not extending still further the numbers who can help another person to commit suicide.  One is the familiar consideration that the law should discourage killing. Martin hates his life, but some people who are similarly disabled do not. If the law were to incorporate the presumption that those who help the very severely disabled to die should not be prosecuted, it would be very close to assuming that those who do away with the very severely disabled must be doing them a favour.  That would not only be wrong, it would also, almost certainly, increase the number of cases of “mercy killing” that are actually straightforward murders. The fear of prosecution has a significant role in minimising such killings. If the law is changed in the way that Martin and his lawyers hope, that fear would be diminished – and there is a terrible risk that “mercy murders” would proliferate.  This is one of those slopes that actually are slippery. The law starts by allowing family members to help others die. The next step is to rule that you don’t have to be a family member – anyone can get involved. That looks like the slide that leads to sanctioning people like Dr Jack Kervokian, the infamous “Jack the Dripper” who killed dozens of people, some of whom he barely knew. He was eventually convicted of second-degree murder in Michigan in 1999, and died earlier this year. His practice is not a model for public policy on how to treat the severely ill or disabled.  It is impossible to disagree with Martin when he says that he would prefer to be dead. But that does not mean that anyone else should be obliged to kill him. Still less does it follow that the law should be changed to ensure that anyone who did so wouldn’t be prosecuted. Martin’s predicament is dreadful, and I would admire anyone who had the courage to help him die. But it is impossible to change the law in the way he’d like without producing a system that makes it easier to kill people who want to live. And that is something the law should never do.
A stroke victim who wants to die is fighting a landmark legal case. But    changing the law so that medical professionals can end someone's life is a    big step on a slippery slope.