GLOBE AND MAIL, JANUARY 8, 2005

Tsunami spotlight: Brad Searle holds son Lachlan and his wife,
Jillian, right, carries Blake as they arrive home in Perth, Australia.

By Arthur Schafer
It's not as if she had scads of time to contemplate the philosophical niceties of her predicament.

One moment, Jillian Searle was breakfasting with her two young boys. The next moment, they
were assaulted by the massive tsunami that washed over their hotel in Phuket. Trying to keep
hold of both boys seemed to promise death for all three of them. Her decision was made in an
instant. She clutched the baby and released Lachlan.

Choosing which of your children shall live, and which shall perish, must rank as just about the
cruelest dilemma imaginable. Thousands of Canadian parents who saw or listened to the
interview with Ms. Searle must have asked themselves, as I asked myself: "What would I have
done in her place?" The truth is, of course, that none of us really has a clue. In real life, we have
never faced a choice even remotely similar to the choice faced by Ms. Searle.

We may, however, have read William Styron's book Sophie's Choice, or seen the Hollywood
adaptation in which a mother is compelled by a sadistic Nazi official to choose one of her
children for immediate execution or else witness the execution of both. Some applauded while
others condemned the mother, Sophie, for selecting one of her children to die in order that the
other might live. But who could truly say they know what they would themselves do in such an
extraordinary and terrifying situation?
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Globe and Mail, January 8, 2005

My personal fear is that in Jillian Searle's place I might become paralyzed with anxiety, thereby
condemning both children to death. (I am one of those people marked out by nature as a "sinker"
rather than a "floater" and share Lachlan's fear of water.) Or perhaps I would resolutely hang on
to both children, accepting death for the children and myself, rather than "play God" by choosing
which shall live and which shall die.

This much seems clear: Even those, such as this newspaper's own Christie Blatchford, who
believe that Ms. Searle made the morally wrong choice, are being unreasonably harsh when they
condemn Ms. Searle's moral character. She was compelled to react instantaneously. People who
do their best in an emergency deserve to have some slack cut for them by those of us who judge
from the safety and comfort of our living rooms. Or so I believe.

It is also worth mentioning that, when she released her grip on Lachlan, Ms. Searle attempted to
transfer his hand to a nearby stranger. That manoeuvre didn't work, but Lachlan managed, by
sheer luck, to grab hold of some floating debris, which saved his life. Thus, against the odds,
mother and both children survived, though it won't quite do to declare that "all's well that ends
well."

The classic legal case involving decision-making in extremis is the English case of The Queen v.
Dudley and Stephens (1884). Dudley and Stephens were shipwrecked sailors who saved their
own lives by killing and eating the flesh of the moribund cabin boy. They pleaded not guilty to
the charge of murder, arguing that, since they faced imminent death from dehydration and
starvation' the extremity of their circumstances justified what would otherwise have been a
crime.

Chief Justice Lord Coleridge, in delivering his guilty verdict, was not unmindful of the "terrible
temptation" faced by the sailors and their "awful suffering." He also acknowledged how difficult
it would be for anyone deprived of food and water for many days "to keep the judgment straight
and the conduct pure."

Having admitted that he could not vouch for his own conduct in such a dire situation, Lord
Coleridge nevertheless sentenced both of the sailors to death.

Interestingly, the sentence given to both sailors was subsequently commuted by the Crown to six
months' imprisonment. Law sometimes requires to be tempered by mercy.

Now, of course, Jillian Searle committed no crime whatsoever, except perhaps the "moral
crime," as some would see it, of favouring her more vulnerable younger son over her almost as
vulnerable older son. If one has to make a life-or-death choice, then choosing to protect someone
because he's more vulnerable seems on the face of it to be a reasonable criterion.

Some philosophers have argued, however, that it is always wrong to make such a choice. They
claim that, when the value of human life is at stake, it is "inherently" wrong for any human being
to engage in a selection process. If all cannot live then, rather than "play God," we should allow
all to die.
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Globe and Mail, January 8, 2005

I have put this proposition to my bioethics students over a period of many years, and to
conferences of. transplant physicians and surgeons. I have never yet encountered anyone who
actually thinks that when a life-saving resource is in short supply – whether a kidney for
transplant or a mother's hand for rescue – we should refuse to save as many lives as possible.

From the foregoing remarks, you will have concluded, correctly, that I think Jillian Searle made
an ethically defensible choice; indeed, the morally right choice. But even if I am mistaken in this
belief, I would still want to insist that it would be wrong to label her as a morally bad person or a
morally inadequate mother.

Arthur Schafer is a professor of philosophy and director of the Centre for Professional and
Applied Ethics at the University of Manitoba.

By Margaret Somerville
The tsunami disaster seems so close in Australia, where I've been visiting. One Aussie told how
he had been in the nightclub in Bali when the bombs exploded and he had escaped. Now, he was
on the beach in Phuket when the sea exploded and once again had escaped. A friend remarked,
"You wouldn't want to take your next holiday with him!"

But the story of Jillian Searle, the Australian woman who decided to let her five-year-old son go,
is discussed in hushed and serious tones. It's too awful even to think about.

What hasn't been discussed is the question of media ethics that it raises. Should the media have
reported this, and in this way? What about when the child sees the footage in the future or when
others recognize him as that child – the child whose life his mother chose to risk? A friend with
whom I was watching the TV report, who has four sons, gasped and said, "That poor child. Now,
he will always think his mother didn't love him best!"

She believes that a second child is often the mother's favourite, because she is usually more laid
back, less aggressive, more affectionate than with the first.

As a young mother herself, she lived in many countries and recently found all the letters she had
written to her mother while away – her mother had kept them. She said she wouldn't be able to
show them to her sons who are now all in their 30s and 40s, because they might see she loved
one son best – although she pointed out the favourite changed from time to time.

We discussed whether all parents have a favourite. We also spoke about whether everyone feels
guilty about such feelings. I recently said to my 85-year-old aunt in Adelaide – my mother's
younger sister, who was as much a mother to me as my mother – that my mother much preferred
my younger brother. She agreed in a matter-of-fact way and said, "But you were your father's
favourite, so that's fair!"
But what about when such feelings get translated into life-and-death decisions as in this case?
Could it be a survival mechanism that when both children can't be saved, at least one will be?
Might the younger child be preferred because the relationship is less complicated and complex?
Might mothers have to prefer a younger child who is more dependent and needy for that child to
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Globe and Mail, January 8, 2005

have any chance of survival? What if mothers just doted on the oldest and the others never had a
chance?

Michael Meaney's work at McGill University on the genetic basis of certain behaviour – for
instance, nurturing in rats – comes to mind here. Might we be genetically programmed to act in
extreme situations where analysis is not possible so as to give all the children some chance of
survival?

My grandmother was a Fitzgerald and her family crest shows a monkey with a broken chain
around its neck sitting on top of a chimney with a baby in its arms.

The legend is that centuries ago when the family castle in Ireland was invaded and the family
annihilated, the pet monkey broke its chain and snatched the youngest son from his crib and took
him to the chimney top. Through that child, the family survived.

The most urgent ethical issue, however, is to stop the damage to this mother and her child – first
do no harm – and to the extent possible repair it. There but for the grace of God go I – and that's
all of us.

Ethicist Margaret Somerville holds professorships in both law and medicine at McGill
University.