By EUGENIO BUCCI*
Antonio Cicero, who lived in Rio de Janeiro, took his last breath in Zurich. And what about those who don't have the money to cross the Atlantic and pay for services?
“Death also has art.” This verse by Antonio Cicero closes the poem “La Capricciosa”, which is part of the book Perhaps (Record, 2012). When it ends, we want to read it a second time. And then we read it a third time. It's not enough.
And it doesn't matter. The sonnet in larger roundels, without rhymes, doesn't want to grab us by the hair, it just wants to be felt and kept. Without fanfare. All that the verse aims for, and has, is aesthetic pride – and, in this, it reflects the clear elegance that marked the biography of its author.
The poet, who was also a philosopher, of course, closed his eyes for the last time last week, on October 23. He traveled to Zurich, Switzerland, and there he underwent assisted suicide – a legal procedure in that country. He was 79 years old and suffered from Alzheimer's disease. In the letter he left to his friends, he described his state of health as “unbearable”. He decided to leave while he still had some control over the existence that was being released from his fading consciousness. He chose to die as he had lived: “with dignity”, in his exact words.
Journalism tends to treat suicide sparingly, following the protocol published in 2000 by the World Health Organization (WHO). Glorification should be avoided, as should sensationalist mistakes or excesses. The World Health Organization recommends that messages left by suicide victims not be published. If there is no way to avoid reporting the news, the media should provide “information on telephone numbers and addresses of support groups and services where help can be obtained.”
All of these precautions are aimed at correctness. If turned into a flashy spectacle, voluntary deaths could promote a contagion effect that would mainly affect those who are facing acute personal crises and have fragile mental health. There is no way to disagree. There is no record of any journalist complaining about censorship when their media outlets make an effort not to highlight the details of the stories of those who commit suicide. Here we have one of the few situations in which journalistic silence is a virtue.
When Antonio Cicero passed away, however, his farewell letter was published everywhere and the coverage went beyond the standards of discretion. It did not adopt appealing tones, nor did it romanticize or glamorize the facts, but it did not limit itself to the established boundaries. When filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard died through similar means in 2022, the journalistic stance followed the same direction.
What explains the spontaneous attitude of professional editors, apparently contrary to such sensible rules? The answer is simple. Assisted suicide and euthanasia are not the same as ordinary suicide: they are legitimate remedies, surrounded by all medical care, which are offered as a right to patients suffering from a terminal or incurable illness and who are about to lose the last vestiges of physical and moral autonomy.
The problem is that almost no country recognizes this right. Why? This question is of the utmost public interest – it explains and justifies the extensive media coverage.
Journalist Hélio Schwartzman, from Folha de S. Paul, in his column last Thursday, argued correctly: “faced with irreversible suffering, such as Cicero’s, it is up to the liberal State to ensure that citizens have (…) the freedom to anticipate their own death”. Jean-Luc Godard or Antonio Cicero did not face tribulations that could be overcome, they were in the throes of sanity, with no prospect of improvement.
In short, reporting on what happened to the two artists and thinkers has nothing to do with sentimentally exploiting a painful personal drama. Accurate information, in these cases, invites society to reflect – and this reflection is important for the improvement of the democratic rule of law. Continuing to block debate only prolongs the suffering of those who rationally need to follow this choice, in addition to making the anguish of their friends and family even more torturous.
Antonio Cicero, who lived in Rio de Janeiro, took his last breath in Zurich. His loved ones understood and welcomed his gesture. With dignity, as he wanted. And what about those who do not have the money to cross the Atlantic and pay for services? With what dignity will they be able to make their final choice? The search for the best answers is the task of all people who believe in solidarity.
By the way, or by chance, Pedro Almodóvar's new film is now showing, The room next door, winner of the grand prize at the Venice Film Festival, which masterfully addresses this same taboo. The work shows the pain of those who die and, above all, exposes the ordeal of those who, in addition to keeping company with those who die, have to take great pains to lie to the police.
Pedro Almodóvar's calm message doesn't want to grab us by the hair either; it simply wants to invite us to think. May the film help us to dispel insensitivity. May philosophy disconcert us. There is art in death, because there must be dignity.
* Eugene Bucci He is a professor at the School of Communications and Arts at USP. Author, among other books, of Uncertainty, an essay: how we think about the idea that disorients us (and orients the digital world) (authentic). [https://amzn.to/3SytDKl]
Originally published in the newspaper The State of S. Paul.
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