The case for passive euthanasia
In India’s evolving dialogue on death with dignity, some lives compel us to pause and reflect—not because of how they ended, but because of how they endured.
One such life is that of Aruna Shanbaug, who was left in a permanent vegetative state after a brutal sexual assault in 1973, at the age of 25. For over four decades, she remained confined to a hospital bed in the very institution where she had once worked. It is such cases—where the probability of recovery is negligible or absent, and where the small, defining experiences that give life its texture are no longer accessible—that compel us to confront difficult questions about the meaning of life itself.In 2011, a journalist-activist approached the Supreme Court in Aruna Ramchandra Shanbaug v. Union of India (2011), seeking permission for passive euthanasia so that Shanbaug might die with dignity. In a carefully reasoned judgment, the Court rejected the plea.
Yet, in doing so, it marked a turning point: while denying euthanasia in this instance, it formally recognised passive euthanasia as permissible under strict safeguards and judicial oversight.
The next major milestone came with Common Cause v. Union of India (2018), where the Court held that the right to die with dignity is an intrinsic part of the right to life under Article 21 of the Constitution.
The judgment reaffirmed the legality of passive euthanasia and recognised “living wills” or advance medical directives, enabling individuals to refuse artificial life support in terminal conditions.This cautious recognition has continued to evolve.
More recently, in the case of Harish Rana, a 31-year-old who remained in a vegetative state for thirteen years following a freak accident, the Court permitted passive euthanasia.
The decision reflects a judiciary increasingly willing to confront the difficult reality that prolonged biological existence, in the absence of awareness or the possibility of recovery, calls for compassion, rather than mere continuation. Life, in such circumstances, cannot be reduced to its indefinite prolongation.Shanbaug’s case also reveals another, parallel evolution in Indian law.At the time of her assault, legal recognition of sexual violence was limited in scope.
It was only after the national outrage following the 2012 Delhi gang rape and murder case that the law expanded to acknowledge a broader spectrum of violations. That shift—from silence to recognition—offers a compelling parallel to the present conversation on euthanasia. Both reflect the law’s gradual attempt to respond to forms of suffering that are not always easily articulated yet demand acknowledgment.
Against this backdrop, the debate on euthanasia must move beyond rigid binaries—between the sanctity of life on one hand and the right to die on the other. Such formulations fail to capture the complexity of cases where individuals can no longer express choice and where recovery is no longer a possibility. In these situations, the question is less about choosing death and more about recognising the limits of meaningful preservation—and allowing dignity, even in death, to remain central.
The author is a freelancer, writes on social and politcal issues ; views are personal
