Contributors

It is easy to allow ourselves to be lulled into a state of confident ignorance when it comes to the state of bioethics in countries other than our own. We presume to know what issues are important, what patients want, which policies are being debated, and, at the very least, how our international colleagues are viewing the general bioethics landscape. In a field where we say “good ethics begin with good facts,” we are often woefully ill prepared to see and understand the larger picture.

It goes almost without saying that there are no academic bioethical debates that are unique to the United Kingdom. The debates in which U.K. bioethicists become involved take place in international journals and in books with a worldwide readership. The contributions of those from these shores are frequently made in response to work by academics from the United States, Australia, Scandinavia, and a whole host of other countries.

When I immigrated to Australia from the United States a few years ago, at first I found many similarities between the countries. But underneath the apparent similarities, notably a shared language, lay much deeper differences in history, politics, and culture that have considerable impacts on attitudes and approaches to issues in bioethics and medicine. For instance, debates continue regarding cloning and embryonic stem cell research, particularly given the long history of research in reproductive medicine and reproductive technologies in Australia. Although there are individuals and groups opposed to such research on grounds associated with pro-life or anti-abortion stances, the discussions more often hinge on what should be funded by the government and eventually what should be provided to all within the public system of healthcare. This theme is one common thread that unites many current controversies in bioethics, but perhaps not for the reasons that an outsider might at first expect. Indeed, allocation of limited resources is part of what is considered relevant, but money is rarely presented as the decisive issue in these debates. Instead, considerations such as what is medically necessary (based on a broad definition of what is medical), what contributes to a “good life” (as defined by what are increasingly heterogeneous community standards), and how to respect and enable fulfillment of autonomous decisions by individuals and families in this rapidly changing context are key to many of the disputes. This brief report is necessarily selective, but it is designed to give a flavor of the terms of the debates as they are currently developing.

Unlike most Western nations, Israel does not recognize full separation of church and state but seeks instead a gentle fusion of Jewish and democratic values. Inasmuch as important religious norms such as sanctity of life may clash with dignity, privacy, and self-determination, conflicts frequently arise as Israeli lawmakers, ethicists, and healthcare professionals attempt to give substance to the idea of a Jewish-democratic state. Emerging issues in Israeli bioethics—end-of-life treatment, fertility, genetic research, and medical ethics during armed conflict—highlight this conflict vividly.

Finland is a country in Northern Europe with a population of approximately 5.1 million people. It lies between Sweden and Russia and has a border with Norway too. It is part of the European Union and also belongs to the European Monetary Union. It is a welfare state in the sense that healthcare services, schools, universities, and social services are for the most part paid for by tax-based funding. In terms of basic healthcare, the state, through local municipalities, provides comprehensive coverage to all residents, and this is utilized by both the wealthy and the poor.

In Japan, modern biomedical ethics emerged in the early 1980s. One of the main triggers was the nationwide debate on organ transplantation and brain death. A lengthy process of academic, religious, and political discussion concerning organ transplantation, lasting well over a few decades, resulted in the enactment of the Organ Transplantation Law in 1997.1 The defining of death and other bioethical issues, including death with dignity and euthanasia, were also stimulating topics throughout the latter end of the twentieth century. For instance, the death-with-dignity movement, which started around the late 1960s, developed into a hospice/palliative-care movement by the end of the 1980s.

In the early 1990s, the primary problem in Russian bioethics was to gain the attention and recognition of the public and the medical establishment. Very few people were even familiar with the word “bioethics.” Within medical education, only a paternalistic and scholastic “medical deontology” was viewed as the professionally acceptable way to deal with the existing moral problems. The public was ignorant of the rights of patients and consumers of medical services. The usual way of resolving conflicts between patients and physicians was to complain to medical authorities. Very few cases of disputes were brought to the courts. Representatives of religious groups did not participate in discussions involving dilemmas generated by progress in biomedical technologies, and they did not seek to influence legislation in this area.

On May 18, 2001, the Korean Bioethics Advisory Commission (KBAC), sponsored by the Ministry of Science and Technology, published a set of recommendations for biotechnological research and application, including scientific experiments with human embryos. Four days later, the KBAC held a public hearing to finalize its recommendations. Since then, public reaction and debate over the ethical aspects of human embryo research have actively surfaced. Most leaders of religious organizations, especially Catholic churches, objected to any type of embryo research. On the other hand, some leaders of the scientific community supported freer scientific research on human embryos.

Most physicians confront the moral and technical challenges of treating persons who are coming to the natural end of their lives. At the level of the health system, this issue becomes a more pressing area for reform as premature death decreases and more people live a full life span. Well-developed countries and international organizations such as the World Health Organization (WHO) and the Organisation of Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) have made recommendations for improving healthcare problems in aging societies. Turkey belongs to the WHO and the OECD. This article describes end-of-life healthcare in Turkey, the design of the healthcare system to meet this need, challenges that should be addressed, and solutions that would be appropriate to Turkish culture and resources.

These CQ Sources were compiled by Bette Anton.

It is a rare patient who always does everything healthcare providers advise. Sometimes no harm comes from this; sometimes good does. But occasionally, great harm comes from not listening, as when it results in patients returning time and again for costly and invasive treatments of, say, infections, valve replacements, pressure ulcers, and so forth. No class of patients arouses more anger and resentment in healthcare providers, who often put out a call to invoke some version of the three strikes rule and refuse care. And if the patients are also unemployed substance abusers who live in a local park, impolite or dangerous to staff, disruptive to other patients, and have intimidating visitors, the call to say “No” is louder. Can care ever be refused? If so, when? These are the questions we take up in this article. The answers we provide were developed as part of a Paraplegics and Quadriplegics with Pressure Ulcers Project carried out at Vancouver Hospital and Health Sciences Centre. Following an established usage, we refer to patients who exhibit a cluster of the above characteristics, the dominant one of which is a reluctance to heed medical advice, as “noncompliant patients.” This term is offensive to some, but the politically correct lexicon does not provide any alternative which is as short and clear or substantially different. We use the term as a convenient way of referring to a familiar class of patients and without any imputation of blame.

For over a decade, managed care has profoundly altered how healthcare is delivered in the United States. There have been concerns that the patient-physician relationship may be undermined by various aspects of managed care, such as restrictions on physician choice, productivity requirements that limit the time physicians may spend with patients, and the use of compensation formulas that reward physicians for healthcare dollars not spent. We have previously published data on the effects of managed care on the physician-patient relationship from the physician's perspective. In 1999, we collected data on the impact of managed care arrangements on the physician-patient relationship from the patient's perspective. This article discusses our collective findings.

Researchers tracking social trends have discovered a remarkable labor-saving device called the computer. They sit down before the instrument, call up a search engine, enter a key word that they believe represents the trend, and count the number of articles aroused by that key word. They track these numbers over a period of time and even graph them. Those who dislike a certain concept are happy to report the concept's rise and fall. Such has occurred with two articles, one of which appeared in CQ, reporting the rise and fall of medical futility. We are impressed with the power of this research methodology, which seems capable of eliminating concepts, even when our own more labor-intensive yet apparently less perceptive daily experience finds evidence of their existence all around us.

When one considers the protracted and continuing struggle of the citizens of Oregon to include physician-assisted suicide (also known as “physician aid in dying”) among the panoply of measures available to dying patients and the physicians who care for them, the depth and breadth of the issue becomes inescapable. The potential intractability of the dispute is illustrated by the very fact, noted in the preceding parenthetical phrase, that consensus eludes us on even the most basic of semantic points—how we are to most aptly characterize the conduct in question? The case featured in this issue's The Caduceus in Court must be examined as the latest battle in a long war of attrition waged by opponents of physician-assisted suicide against the Oregon Death with Dignity Act (“the Oregon Act”). After briefly reviewing that history, I will then consider the details of Oregon v. Ashcroft and the implications of the litigation not only for the care of dying patients but also for the regulation of medical practice in the United States and, more broadly still, the search for resolution of serious medical disputes in a democratic society.

Although housed in an anonymous Victorian house in San Francisco, California, the Zen Hospice Project (ZHP) is world renowned for its pioneering model of training hospice volunteers, providing direct services to patients, and offering educational programs to the broader public.

This section is meant to be a mutual effort. If you find an article you think should be abstracted in this section, do not be bashful—submit it for consideration to feature editor Kenneth V. Iserson care of CQ. If you do not like the editorial comments, this will give you an opportunity to respond in the letters section. Your input is desired and anticipated.