We’ve medicalized nearly everything in life—birth, aging, sleep, even boredom. Now, in the spirit of efficiency, we’ve begun medicalizing death itself.

In his unsettling essay “The European way to die,” French novelist Michel Houellebecq warns that the normalization of euthanasia and assisted suicide is not a sign of progress but of profound cultural decay. I didn’t expect to find myself agreeing with him.

As a physician for over three decades, I’ve seen how easily good intentions in medicine become systems of quiet cruelty. Bureaucracies rarely do nuance well. Once a compassionate exception becomes protocol, it’s only a matter of time before it becomes routine—and then expected.

Houellebecq argues that pain is no longer the main reason people seek death. We’re excellent at managing pain. What we’re not good at is managing meaninglessness. What many patients fear isn’t physical agony—it’s loneliness, dependency, indignity.

And our answer? A signature, a sedative, and a Thursday at 2 p.m.

What gets lost is the sacred mess of dying. The farewells. The reconciliations. The human presence at the bedside. Houellebecq calls it “a final moment that belongs, in part, to others.” I’ve seen it. I’ve also seen what happens when we sterilize the exit ramp.

We’ve become so obsessed with autonomy that we forget: Freedom is not the same as abandonment.

Houellebecq’s voice is not religious. It’s moral. Dying has always been a communal, spiritual act. In trying to make it painless, we may be making it hollow. Medicine, in trying to be humane, risks becoming too clinical—too tidy.

The great risk is that we begin treating death the way we’ve treated every other inconvenience: As something to solve, sanitize, and schedule. But death, like birth, isn’t a problem to be fixed. It’s a human experience to be witnessed—with presence, with mess, and with meaning.

Larry Kaskel is an internal medicine physician and lipidologist.