We were interested to read Corfield et al’s recent article on Foundation doctors’ confidence in dealing with ethical issues in the workplace(1), which felt particularly relevant to us – a fourth-year medical student and a Foundation doctor. The importance of medical law and ethics (MEL) has been emphasised by the current COVID-19 pandemic. Difficult decisions with complex ethical implications have had to be made at both clinical and managerial levels across the health service.

Suddenly, junior doctors’ preparedness to deal with ethical dilemmas is framed in a new light. We took particular note of Corfield et al’s concluding remark which highlights the need for a supportive environment which fosters liberal discussion of ethical queries(1). It is well documented that the presence of rigid hierarchies within the clinical environment can deter junior doctors from raising uncertainties(2-4), a phenomenon likely to extend to those of an ethical nature.

The COVID-19 pandemic represents an unprecedented challenge for medics regardless of their level of seniority, which has engendered a feeling of common endeavour with far-reaching consequences for practice. Interestingly, discussions with colleagues have echoed our perception that these changes have precipitated a less pronounced sense of hierarchy. This in turn has the potential to facilitate more open discussion of ethical issues including those generated by the crisis. In relation to the authors’ findings(1), junior doctors who are either underprepared or overconfident when it comes to ethical reasoning, will each be more likely to be exposed to such discussion, leading to better ethical decision-making overall.

This could represent an important learning opportunity to be taken forward over the coming months, one that could promote more confidence and competence amongst Foundation doctors when tackling MEL issues.

References
1. Corfield L, Williams RA, Lavelle C, Latcham N, Talash K, Machin L. Prepared for practice? UK Foundation doctors’ confidence in dealing with ethical issues in the workplace. Journal of Medical Ethics. 2020 Apr 10.
2. Brennan PA, Davidson M. Improving patient safety: we need to reduce hierarchy and empower junior doctors to speak up. Bmj. 2019 Jul 2;366:l4461.
3. Care Quality Commission. Opening the door to change: NHS safety culture and the need for transformation. 19 Dec 2018. www.cqc.org.uk/openingthedoor.
4. Srivastava R. Speaking up—when doctors navigate medical hierarchy. New England Journal of Medicine. 2013 Jan 24;368(4):302-5.

The vulnerabilities of pharmacists would appear to be invisible in the euthanasia/assisted suicide debates.

As healthcare systems and societies are changing, the social positions of doctors, pharmacists, nurses and patients within them were changing too. In the past, clinical experts’ authority and patients’ autonomy have been in conflict. The current patient-centered / person-centered model of medical care, aims to establish egalitarian relationships between patients and healthcare clinicians and providers .

Vulnerability can be defined as a lack of autonomy and independence, bodily and psychological insecurity, marginalized or deviant status, lack of acknowledgement within the society (1).Vulnerable groups are exposed to discrimination, intolerant attitude, subordination. Vulnerability is usually seen as an inherent quality of certain social groups (but not others). However it has many dimensions and might be attributed to relatively “powerful” groups (2). Doctors, pharmacists and nurses i.e. so called powerful groups, are rarely characterized as vulnerable groups, but within certain circumstances, they can be recognized as “vulnerable”.

Doctors, pharmacists and nurses are in a situation where they are becoming more controlled by the patients. There is an emphasis on the myth that citizens (patients) should be autonomous and the inevitability and normality of dependency is not recognised (3). Dependency is an unavoidable feature of any society and it is not a feature that is taken into account from the liberal perspective. The recognition of universal vulnerability suggests that the autonomy model will have to re thought (4).

Ethics has not paid attention to vulnerability for three possible reasons (5):
• Vulnerability is the antithesis of the individualistic ethics predominating in Western societies.
• Vulnerability is not addressed in ethics because philosophy ignores the body.
• Ethics has been prominently rationalist and therefore feelings have been displaced or have not been taken into account.

It is methodologically important not to define certain groups as (not) vulnerable by default (2). There are many potential sources of vulnerability, and each of these constitutes a different, overlapping layer. This metaphor of layers presents a contextual and variable concept of vulnerability, moving away from the fixed and static view (6). The vulnerability of professionals e.g. pharmacists remains invisible as it does not correspond with their social position. The sufferings (existential and moral) of pharmacists in particular are invisible, denied and ignored in the euthanasia/assisted suicide debates.

All forms of euthanasia and physician assisted suicide require lethal medications. The role of pharmacists in the pharmaceutical care/medication use process at the end of life is often ignored, written out or overlooked. In the main doctors and nurses are included in “conscientious objection” legislative protections. Pharmacists are often excluded from protection of their human right to freedom of conscience and the derived right of “conscientious objection”. Pharmacists in all working environments (pharmaceutical industry , community pharmacy, hospital pharmacy, palliative care pharmacy, long term care, care of people with disabilities including intellectual disabilities, general practice pharmacists, etc. ) will be part of the process (7).

We can understand our humanity in a broader sense only by recognizing our universal vulnerability and interdependence (8). Pharmacists and their patients and colleagues are vulnerable and autonomous. The end of life medication use process (natural death or intentional death ) is dependent on the involvement and expertise of pharmacists. Failure to recognise this makes individual pharmacists and the pharmacy profession vulnerable.

References
1. Liamputtong, P. Researching the Vulnerable: A Guide to Sensitive Research Methods; SAGE: London, UK; Thousand Oaks, CA, USA, 2007; 246p.
2. Societies 2020, 10(1), 5; https://doi.org/10.3390/soc10010005
3. Fineman, Martha A., The Autonomy Myth: A Theory of Dependency, New York, The New Press, 2004.
4. Rodriguez, Janet Delgalo. The Relevance of the Ethics of Vulnerability in Bioethics. The Ethics Forum. Volume 12, Issue 2–3, Automne 2017, p. 154–179 https://doi.org/10.7202/1051280
5. Hoffmaster, Barry, “What Does Vulnerability Mean?”, Hastings Center Report, vol. 36, no. 2, 2006, pp. 38-45.
6. Luna, Florencia, “Vulnerabilidad: la metáfora de las capas”, Jurisprudencia Argentina, IV, 1, 2008, pp. 60-67.
7. Flood, Bernadette. Pharmacists and assisted dying. BMJ 2020 https://www.bmj.com/content/368/bmj.m1139.full

Words/Nga Kupu*
The suggestion of a “Words” column focussing particularly on words from a non-western ethical tradition is great. We are journeying through perilous waters and will need to adapt our ethical framework to the new reality. A value of diversity is that we can draw on concepts from other traditions. Of course, a “Word” in a language you do not speak is of no use. The word is part of a language, which is the embodiment of a culture, and ethics is inevitably culture bound. Even words shared between cultures do not necessarily share exact meanings. A consideration of Justice within the bioethical community culture would be incomplete without reference to Rawls. A consideration of Justice within a Māori community would be centred around Te Tiriti o Waitangi/ The Treaty of Waitangi(1). A simple translation is not enough. The definition of Whakawhanaungatanga is a good starting place, but more depth is needed. It is embedded in a Māori concept of health(2), and the richness of the concepts cannot be appreciated without appreciating the context in which it is used. Whilst it is a Māori word it is now also a New Zealand word. A whole generation of medical students have been taught Māori concepts of health, including Whakawhanaungatanga, significantly spearheaded by the work of Pitama and Lacey(3). Parry as a 5th year student wrote a heart-warming case study that illustrated the value of using these concepts(4). The New Zealand ethical landscape is an example of the extent to which ethics is culture bound. Whilst traditional ethical principles remain they are increasingly augmented by Māori concepts. The related word Whanaungatanga is one of the principles in “Te Ture Whakaruruhau Code Of Ethical Principles For Public Health in Aotearoa New Zealand”(5). I look forward to further contributions.
* Māori language translation of words.
1. Mutu M. ‘To honour the treaty, we must first settle colonisation’ (Moana Jackson 2015): the long road from colonial devastation to balance, peace and harmony. Journal of the Royal Society of New Zealand. 2019;49(sup1):4-18.
2. Durie M. Whaiora Maori Health Development. Second Edition ed. Melbourne Australia: Oxford University Press; 1998.
3. Lacey C, Huria T, Beckert L, Gilles M, Pitama S. The Hui Process: a framework to enhance the doctor–patient relationship with Māori. Journal of the New Zealand Medical Association. 2011;124(1347).
4. Parry R, Jones B, Gray B, Ingham T. Applying a Māori-centred consultation approach for engaging with Māori patients: an undergraduate medical student case study. Journal of Primary Health Care. 2014;6(3):254-60.
5. Public Health Association of New Zealand Incorporated. Te Ture Whakaruruhau Code Of Ethical Principles For Public Health in Aotearoa New Zealand. Wellington New Zealand2012 [Available from: https://www.pha.org.nz/page-18201.

The authors argue that when we prioritize healthcare workers for ventilators because of their instrumental value as healthcare workers, we fail to value human lives equally. While they suggest that “it may be ethically justifiable for healthcare workers to receive priority for some scarce healthcare resources” and argue that healthcare workers should have sufficient personal protective equipment (PPE), they do little to explain why granting priority for these resources isn’t also, as they argue with ventilators, a case of failing to attribute equal value to human lives. Indeed, it is not clear that they think prioritizing healthcare workers for vaccines was the right thing to do: “. . . our social fabric has shown signs of unravelling as vaccine roll-outs have pulled on loose threads” and prioritizing vaccines has resulted “in unanticipated frustration, mistrust and strife.” The authors are right in their conclusion about ventilators, but we should reject the concerns their article raises about vaccines and PPE. If saving the most lives is the goal, it is consistent with valuing each person’s life equally to prioritize healthcare workers for preventive measures, particularly at the outset of a pandemic.
The authors mention three reasons ventilators are different from preventive measures like PPE and vaccines: 1) Efficacy: Those who require a ventilator will not return to work quickly. 2) Lifesaving: While ventilators rescue endangered lives, preventive measures only reduce risk. 3) Urgency: Not being prioritized for preventive measures likely means waiting until they become available, while not being prioritized for a ventilator means not receiving one at all. The point about efficacy should be acknowledged as an important difference between ventilators and preventive measures. If healthcare workers qualify for priority for scarce life-saving resources due to their instrumental value in their roles as care providers, and the need for a ventilator indicates an inability to fulfill this role, then healthcare workers requiring ventilators shouldn’t receive priority for those resources over others.
The authors’ commitment to community solidarity leads them to concern about the results of assigning (or worse, reassigning) the last ventilator to a healthcare worker as opposed to someone in equal medical need. However, if prioritizing ventilators for healthcare workers weakens our social fabric, we must ask whether this also applies to preventive measures. Contra the authors’ last two points about differences between ventilators and preventive care: a) preventive care is lifesaving: The life of a nurse forced to face Covid patients without adequate PPE is endangered. b) preventive measures are urgent: If hospitals are overwhelmed and death rates are spiking, those aware of the virus’s danger and the vaccine’s efficacy in January will find only limited comfort in knowing that they might be able to receive the vaccine if they are healthy by May.
Preventive measures are like ventilators in that they are scarce lifesaving medical resources and their use is urgent. Can prioritizing them be justified? The authors follow James Childress in supposing that any justification for their use on the basis of instrumental value carries a “heavy burden of proof.” Childress made his comments in 1970, while grappling with how to approach extremely limited dialysis or organ transplant opportunities. He argued that the burden for straying from randomness or chance as a basis for allocation demands showing not that someone has positive contributions to make, but that they are literally irreplaceable, that disaster would likely result from that person’s loss. However, in the context of a pandemic, this burden of proof is too heavy. It is possible to be instrumental in saving many lives yet still fall short of Childress’ standard.
The most straightforward justification for prioritizing those who save more lives is the multiplier effect, an instance of instrumental value. If we save the life of a life-saver, more total lives are saved. This is evidence not that we value lives unequally—the life-saver’s life isn’t valued more highly—but that we value saving more lives above saving fewer lives. The authors make the point that many workers, not just healthcare workers, have instrumental value. It is true that healthcare workers aren’t alone in having instrumental value (many are instrumental in keeping the economy running or society functioning, for example) and in fact, aren’t the only ones in roles that might save lives. My argument is that if saving the most lives is our primary objective, then prioritizing those we believe will make that possible is consistent with valuing each life equally.
These judgments are context dependent. Decisions must be judged by the information available at the time. At the outset of a pandemic, we are information poor. No one knows whether the infectious agent in question is as contagious as measles or Ebola, how it spreads, or which groups are most at risk. This is difficult because PPE must be stockpiled in advance, and successful planning for mass vaccine allocation/distribution, although it happens later, isn’t last minute either. We must act on our best predictions. For pandemic disease, it is reasonable to assume that healthcare workers will be particularly vulnerable to death and that more lives will be saved if healthcare worker lives are saved. If we later come to have solid evidence that prioritizing housekeepers for vaccines instead of healthcare workers would actually save more lives (not the same as concluding that housekeepers are dying at higher rates, as mentioned in the article), we should adjust our priorities accordingly.
The authors’ account of unravelling social fabric is overblown. Scarcity brings sorrow; there aren’t enough lifesaving resources to go around. However, this is more a reflection of the pandemic’s toll than our decision to save the most lives by prioritizing healthcare workers. The goal is to save the most lives, not a perfect distribution process. Inevitably an imperfect distribution system will lead to the frustration the authors reference. Many will disagree with which goals are primary or how to achieve them. But frustration isn’t failure. When we come to know more, we can do better. Meanwhile, we save the most lives we can.