Translated by ChatGPT
https://www.zaobao.com.sg/forum/views/story20260405-8836069?utm_source=android-share&utm_medium=app
2026-04-05
Lianhe Zaobao (联合早报）
Author: Lu Lishan (卢丽珊)
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The truth about death is that it does not always come swiftly; more often, it slowly consumes a person, from the body and physical functions to the will to live, with the process varying in length.
On March 26, a 25-year-old Spanish girl, Castillo, won a lawsuit that had lasted nearly two years against her father, who had tried to stop her from seeking euthanasia, and she was able to end her short life as she wished. Even in Europe, where euthanasia is legal, the case sparked intense controversy—first because of her age, and second because of the involvement and breakdown of familial relationships. The twists and turns of the case have prompted deeper reflection on euthanasia.
A life of 25 years may sound short, but in the eyes of the individual, it had already reached its end. She had a difficult childhood and spent most of her time in foster care. As an adult, she suffered multiple instances of sexual assault. Three years ago, a failed suicide attempt left her permanently paralyzed. The girl said she “only wanted to leave peacefully and end the pain.”
In Spain, street interviews conveyed shock and disappointment among the public. Some viewed it as a great disgrace to society, believing that if such cases had received earlier attention and care, extreme outcomes like euthanasia among young people might have been prevented. Spanish religious organizations and scholars also issued strong condemnations, arguing that the incident exposed society’s neglect of disadvantaged groups, and called for strengthened support services and adjustments to euthanasia laws.
A joint statement issued by Spanish church bishops the day before her death said that her experience reflected “the overlap of personal suffering and systemic shortcomings, posing a challenge to society as a whole.” However, under the premise of valuing individualism and respecting human rights, the girl’s personal wishes ultimately took precedence over everything, making euthanasia her final exit from life.
Related reading
The UK Parliament passes a euthanasia bill
In 2021, euthanasia was legalized in Spain. Adults suffering from terminal illness or severe chronic disability can apply for assisted death through the public healthcare system.
If the Spanish girl’s death is unsettling, the situation in the Netherlands—the first country to legalize euthanasia (2002)—is also shocking. Data from the Dutch euthanasia review committee last year showed that nearly 10,000 people underwent euthanasia in 2024, a 10% increase from the previous year. The number of people with mental illness increased by 60%, accounting for 5.8% of all deaths nationwide.
Currently, countries that have legalized active euthanasia or assisted suicide are mainly concentrated in Europe and the Americas. The first countries to legalize euthanasia were the Netherlands and Belgium, followed by Luxembourg, Canada, Spain, Colombia, and New Zealand, which have successively passed laws permitting active euthanasia or assisted death. Several states in Australia have also implemented related policies.
Writing about euthanasia carries immense weight, as it touches on the many complexities of life and death. There was a moment, reflecting on the girl’s death, when I felt fortunate to live in Singapore, where what I see as such a regrettable event would not occur. Yet, upon further thought, is it truly a “regret,” or does it actually address the most genuine needs of someone in her unique situation? Not discussing or accepting euthanasia may be the current social environment, but it may not always remain so.
Living in a country where euthanasia is not legal, my views are naturally shaped by society and policy, and I understand the broader emphasis on end-of-life care systems. Emotionally, I cannot accept euthanasia; rationally, however, it is not a monstrous concept and has its reasonable place.
As I write this column, an elderly relative in her seventies, who had suffered from cancer for over 25 years, has just turned into wisps of smoke at Mandai Crematorium. In the final years of repeated torment from cancer, she gradually lost her sight and hearing, yet remained mentally clear, repeatedly asking herself: Why am I still not dead? Why can’t I die sooner?
She, who once excelled in music, chess, calligraphy, painting, and sewing in her later years, slowly became a human ruin because of illness. Even though she was surrounded by children and grandchildren, at her most vulnerable moments she once asked me to help sell her house and quietly take her to Europe for euthanasia. Of course, no matter how filial a child is, it is impossible to hear the suppressed cry of one’s own mother; she could not possibly tell her children her true wish.
The essence of life is “being born toward death”; everyone shares the same end. Yet the truth of death is that it does not necessarily come swiftly. More often, it slowly consumes a person—from the body and physical functions to the will to live—with varying durations. In Singapore, living under the shadow of death and the endless torment of illness has become a passive compromise for many unfortunate individuals. I could not fulfill that elderly relative’s request—that is my current stance on euthanasia, though I fully understand and sympathize.
To live—whether well or poorly—is a basic attitude; otherwise, it would be seen as belittling life and desecrating the divine. But is that necessarily true?
At the beginning of last year, my mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. After half a year of chemotherapy proved ineffective, she passed away two months later. Looking back at the blank pages of my diary during those months, I saw a few words written on February 8: “Mother said: I am suffering very much, please let me go.”
It turns out that even those nearing death plead emotionally for their loved ones to let go and allow them to leave. Without our “permission,” they cannot bear—or dare—to go. The cruel truth is that even when we see our loved ones in such pain, we who remain alive still silently, almost brutally, hope that they will continue to live despite the suffering—for our sake.
Euthanasia has only a 24-year history of legalization in some countries. In Singapore, the government opposes euthanasia in order to protect the dignity of life. However, individuals may sign an Advance Medical Directive (AMD), choosing not to undergo life-sustaining treatment that prolongs suffering when critically ill.
On the issue of euthanasia, I have come to feel more than ever the vast differences between Eastern and Western societies. Perhaps this is also why we must begin to seriously reflect on the questions of life and death, and take greater control over them.
(The author is a writer/businessperson.)
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