by Max Klinger is a student at Homerton College, Cambridge and a spiked intern.
Mill’s criticisms are as true today as they were in the nineteenth
century. Such policies are based upon a specific conception of the
‘right’ way to live, held by certain powerful groups.
The BMA’s thinking stands in stark contrast to the principle of
enlightened reason, which sees man as an autonomous agent, capable of
exercising rational judgement in order to determine his own life as he
sees fit. Prohibitionists believe that, left to our own devices, we will
make the ‘wrong’ decision and that the government must therefore impose
the correct choices upon us. Like the preordained sovereigns of old,
the BMA’s members believe they alone are privy to the unquestionable
‘truth’ according to which the rest of us must live our lives. The
decision to smoke or drink more than the ‘recommended amount’ cannot be
anything but the actions of a fool who has strayed from the correct
path. To me, that sounds less like the ‘truth’ and more like the
commands of a prudish grandmother.
The insidious growth of this puritanical moralism can be witnessed
across much of the Western world. Alcohol taxes have been steadily
increasing. New York recently banned smoking in parks and on beaches; a
similar ban has been proposed for the less glamorous town of Stony
Stratford, which would be the first such ban in England. In Iceland,
parliament will soon vote on whether or nor to outlaw tobacco
altogether, making it impossible to purchase without a doctor’s
prescription.
Advocates of these bans disregard any notion of the right to free
choice and personal autonomy. What the BMA is asking for is the
imposition of greater restrictions on the ability of the individual to
act how he or she chooses, based upon the opinion of medical
professionals as to how people should behave. But is it the role of medicine, or the government more generally, to force a particular lifestyle upon us?
No, it isn’t. The role of the doctor is to provide the patient with
all the available scientific knowledge, in order that he or she is best
equipped to make a decision regarding his or her own body and life. It
is not the prerogative of doctors or nurses to force the patient to
behave as the doctor sees fit. If a doctor tells me that I am likely to
injure my leg playing football, and I decide to play, she cannot stop
me. Similarly, if I choose to drink and smoke, that should be my
decision.
In the BMA’s proposals, we see the medicalisation of what is
essentially a political issue. Whether I am allowed to drink or smoke is
not a question that can be resolved on a purely scientific level. It
brings into play more fundamental questions regarding our rights that
should not be overridden simply by an appeal to medical science. The
tendency for today’s prohibitionists – and promoters of many new
policies more generally - is to couch their objectives in the language
of science. A moral position is repackaged as a scientific truth that
necessitates a particular course of action – the one that they are
demanding.
The ideological and moral distinctions of old have been replaced by
this scientifically justified politics of behaviour. This is not a
progressive trend. We are a nation of rational adults, capable of
determining our own affairs. I, for one, don’t want the government
banning me from smoking or drinking, just as I don’t want it to ban flip
flops in case I stub my toe. I might conclude that its arguments make
sense - I might choose not to smoke or to cut down on drinking or avoid
flimsy footwear - but the final say in these matters should be mine.
It was once said that ‘prohibition makes you want to cry into your
beer, and denies you the beer to cry in to’. The BMA want to nick your
cigarettes as well. As doctors and health campaigners push for greater
state control over our personal lives, we need to send them packing. I’d
drink to that.
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