This is where life ends and social judgement commences. Society cannot admit that it is against freedom of expression (suicide is, after all, a statement). It never could. It always preferred to cast suicides in role of criminals (and, therefore, bereft of any or many civil rights). According to still prevailing views, suicide violates unwritten contracts with himself, with others (society) and, many might add, with God (or with Nature with a capital N). Thomas Aquinas said that suicide was not only unnatural (organisms strive to survive, not to self annihilate) – but it also adversely affects community and violates God's property rights. The latter argument is interesting: God is supposed to own soul and it is a gift (in Jewish writings, a deposit) to individual. A suicide, therefore, has to do with abuse or misuse of God's possessions, temporarily lodged in a corporeal mansion. This implies that suicide affects eternal, immutable soul. Aquinas refrains from elaborating exactly how a distinctly physical and material act alters structure and / or properties of something as ethereal as soul. Hundreds of years later, Blackstone, codifier of British Law, concurred. The state, according to this juridical mind, has a right to prevent and to punish for suicide and for attempted suicide. Suicide is self-murder, he wrote, and, therefore, a grave felony. In certain countries, this still is case. In Israel, for instance, a soldier is considered to be "army property" and any attempted suicide is severely punished as being "attempt at corrupting army possessions". Indeed, this is paternalism at its worst, kind that objectifies its subjects. People are treated as possessions in this malignant mutation of benevolence. Such paternalism acts against adults expressing fully informed consent. It is an explicit threat to autonomy, freedom and privacy. Rational, fully competent adults should be spared this form of state intervention. It served as a magnificent tool for suppression of dissidence in places like Soviet Russia and Nazi Germany. Mostly, it tends to breed "victimless crimes". Gamblers, homosexuals, communists, suicides – list is long. All have been "protected from themselves" by Big Brothers in disguise. Wherever humans possess a right – there is a correlative obligation not to act in a way that will prevent exercise of such right, whether actively (preventing it), or passively (reporting it). In many cases, not only is suicide consented to by a competent adult (in full possession of his faculties) – it also increases utility both for individual involved and for society. The only exception is, of course, where minors or incompetent adults (the mentally retarded, mentally insane, etc.) are involved. Then a paternalistic obligation seems to exist. I use cautious term "seems" because life is such a basic and deep set phenomenon that even incompetents can fully gauge its significance and make "informed" decisions, in my view. In any case, no one is better able to evaluate quality of life (and ensuing justifications of a suicide) of a mentally incompetent person – than that person himself.

The paternalists claim that no competent adult will ever decide to commit suicide. No one in "his right mind" will elect this option. This contention is, of course, obliterated both by history and by psychology. But a derivative argument seems to be more forceful. Some people whose suicides were prevented felt very happy that they were. They felt elated to have gift of life back. Isn't this sufficient a reason to intervene? Absolutely, not. All of us are engaged in making irreversible decisions. For some of these decisions, we are likely to pay very dearly. Is this a reason to stop us from making them? Should state be allowed to prevent a couple from marrying because of genetic incompatibility? Should an overpopulated country institute forced abortions? Should smoking be banned for higher risk groups? The answers seem to be clear and negative. There is a double moral standard when it comes to suicide. People are permitted to destroy their lives only in certain prescribed ways.

And if very notion of suicide is immoral, even criminal – why stop at individuals? Why not apply same prohibition to political organizations (such as Yugoslav Federation or USSR or East Germany or Czechoslovakia, to mention four recent examples)? To groups of people? To institutions, corporations, funds, not for profit organizations, international organizations and so on? This fast deteriorates to land of absurdities, long inhabited by opponents of suicide.

Sam Vaknin is the author of Malignant Self Love - Narcissism Revisited and After the Rain - How the West Lost the East. He is a columnist for Central Europe Review, United Press International (UPI) and eBookWeb and the editor of mental health and Central East Europe categories in The Open Directory, Suite101 and searcheurope.com.

Visit Sam's Web site at http://samvak.tripod.com

When government fell in December 1989, Ceausescu was overthrown and executed.

The misery didn't die with him.

Even braced for conditions she had heard were common at orphanages, Simon had to steady herself at odor blasting into her nostrils. The heat concentrated stench of diapers, changed -- if at all -- once a day. It happened like this: children with sticky legs sat stacked on trays like loaves of bread, changed in one fell swoop.

More than smell, what struck her about this particular orphanage was silence. Wards of tiny creatures stared blankly through bars in cribs, or rocked, rocked, rocked on filthy bare pads. Children with bloated bellies and babies crawling with lice had learned not to cry. Rarely would their screams move a caretaker to dab at their tears.

Simon delivered care packages to Spitalul Children's Hospital and several orphanages. At orphanages, children buzzed about her as if she were queen bee. One child swooped down on a pink bunny, wetting its fur with kisses.

Simon returned home to Orlando, changed. She knew what she had to do.

HUG MELTS AWAY BLEAKNESS

In late October 1990, Simon again was bound for Romania.

She and her husband, Paul, in their early 40s at time, had tried and failed to adopt children in states. Five times, same thing. It was as if children were ice -- when Simons believed they were grasping something solid, children slipped like water through their fingers.

On her first trip to Romania, Simon became smitten with a 2-year-old named Ana and started adoption paperwork.

But soon her optimism faded like black-and-white snapshot of brown-haired little girl.

Simon found red tape virtually impenetrable. Each court appearance brought disappointment and more frustration. Each judge she appeared before had his own rules for signing off on adoption. That she spoke little Romanian didn't help.

Complicating matters, Simon was under a deadline: She had been in Romania for several weeks and with an airlines strike looming, she was booked on last flight out of Bucharest before Christmas.

At least she had tried, she thought.

As one door seemed to slam shut, another opened. An interpreter, aware of her dead-ends with Ana, told her about a slight boy at Orphanage No. 4.

Simon visited place. The building was old, frigid. Inside there were no toys. Outside packs of wild dogs roamed. The children slept in military cots. They shared a bathroom with rusty showers and two sinks.

After a while, Simon and boy she came to meet were brought together, two strangers in strangest of places. His father was dead and his mother was poor. His aunts, uncles, and cousins lived in a commune outside of Bucharest.

The child, in a sweater, long stockings, and knitted pants, reacted only way he could: he ran as fast as he could over to Simon, snaked his arms around just under her waist and squeezed.

Within week, boy she called Nick was gorging on chocolates on a flight bound for Orlando.

Nick was miles away from speaking English, save for words, "chocolate" and "Mickey." And this: Her son could say mama.

DISCOVERING TIRE TREADS

After a while, when newness rubbed away, Simons confronted some unpleasant realities.

An institutionalized child -- one who had been warehoused virtually all his life without an encouraging word, without love -- was going to bear scars.

The first night he spent in his room, Nick stripped sheets and ignored pillow -- luxuries he had never had. He spent nights haunting hallway, snacking on bowls of sugar.

Precious few things came naturally to him. He knew how to march and salute -- orphans were groomed to be crack soldiers -- and when placed in a bathtub, Nick would grab a cloth and buff chrome.

Since he had never seen a toy, he had to learn how to play.

Since he was rarely allowed to venture beyond crib, he had to learn to explore. Once at school, teachers found Nick under a school bus, weaving his fingers through tire treads. <

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Darryl E. Owens Features Writer The Orlando Sentinel 633 North Orange Avenue Orlando, FL 32801 (407) 420-5095 Fax: (407) 420-5457

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JOAN BRAMSCH is a family person, educator, writer and E-publisher. Her articles appear internationally in print and online. Six of her best-selling adult novels - near one million copies - have worldwide distribution. Her Empowered Parenting Ezine serves 1000 parents around the globe. http://www.JoanBramsch.com mailto:hijoan@joanbramsch.com