"All the big powers they've silenced me. So much for free speech and choice on this fundamental human right"
About this Quote
Jack Kevorkian speaks from the posture of a dissident facing a wall of institutions. By invoking the phrase big powers, he gathers prosecutors, legislatures, medical boards, and media gatekeepers into a single adversary. The complaint that they have silenced him is not only about prison time or the loss of a medical license; it is a claim that the system suppresses the very argument he wanted to normalize: that control over the manner and timing of one’s death is a basic human liberty.
Kevorkian built his public identity by forcing the issue. A pathologist dubbed Dr. Death, he devised devices like the Thanatron and Mercitron and aided more than a hundred terminally ill people in ending their lives. Michigan moved to outlaw assisted suicide; his license was revoked; he was tried repeatedly. His most defiant act came in 1998, when he injected a patient, Thomas Youk, and allowed the video to be broadcast on 60 Minutes. The resulting 1999 conviction for second-degree murder marked the legal line he wanted tested: when does speech and advocacy become criminal conduct, and who decides?
The remark lands in the shadow of national law. In 1997, the U.S. Supreme Court held there is no fundamental constitutional right to assisted suicide, leaving policy to the states. Oregon’s narrow allowance stood as an exception, while many states reinforced prohibitions. Kevorkian countered with a rights-based frame, equating end-of-life autonomy with free speech and bodily self-determination. His critics answered with the state’s duty to protect the vulnerable, uphold medical ethics, and guard against coercion.
The tension remains: individual sovereignty over dying versus the community’s ethical limits on killing. By casting himself as silenced, Kevorkian underscores how battles over life and death turn on who controls the terms of debate. His provocation made the law speak, but not in the language of rights he demanded.
Kevorkian built his public identity by forcing the issue. A pathologist dubbed Dr. Death, he devised devices like the Thanatron and Mercitron and aided more than a hundred terminally ill people in ending their lives. Michigan moved to outlaw assisted suicide; his license was revoked; he was tried repeatedly. His most defiant act came in 1998, when he injected a patient, Thomas Youk, and allowed the video to be broadcast on 60 Minutes. The resulting 1999 conviction for second-degree murder marked the legal line he wanted tested: when does speech and advocacy become criminal conduct, and who decides?
The remark lands in the shadow of national law. In 1997, the U.S. Supreme Court held there is no fundamental constitutional right to assisted suicide, leaving policy to the states. Oregon’s narrow allowance stood as an exception, while many states reinforced prohibitions. Kevorkian countered with a rights-based frame, equating end-of-life autonomy with free speech and bodily self-determination. His critics answered with the state’s duty to protect the vulnerable, uphold medical ethics, and guard against coercion.
The tension remains: individual sovereignty over dying versus the community’s ethical limits on killing. By casting himself as silenced, Kevorkian underscores how battles over life and death turn on who controls the terms of debate. His provocation made the law speak, but not in the language of rights he demanded.
Quote Details
| Topic | Human Rights |
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