Saving Face
Commentary by JoEllen Collins
In a nightmare scenario, a traffic
accident fatality who has signed an unspecific donor card is "farmed" for
several organs. A young girl regains sight through his eyes, a middle-aged
mother is given a new lease on life through his liver, and most of his other
body parts benefit others. However, in a brand-new procedure, his face is
transplanted onto the wrecked face of a burn victim. Several months later the
donor’s widow collapses when she sees the image of her late husband coming down
the street.
Surely this is the stuff of science
fiction, of movies like "Face/Off" where Nicholas Cage and John Travolta
exchange faces. According to a research team of British surgeons, however, the
procedure is almost perfected. And while countless scarred, burned and
disfigured people can perhaps anticipate new faces that won’t repulse onlookers,
the surgery opens up many moral and esthetic issues.
When I mentioned the impending likelihood
of facial transplants to some friends, the first reaction was overwhelmingly one
of disgust and shock. Somehow I don’t think most of us have thought about the
possibility of having our faces live on in other bodies. It is a creepy
prospect.
Just as in my generation, when we thought
in vitro fertilization was impossible and we couldn’t even grasp the concept of
cloning, this new advance is frightening. Many new discoveries are scary, of
course, partly because we are afraid of possible perverted uses. The
mad-scientist version of face transplantation is one. Can we imagine someone,
out of vanity, "reserving" the face of a model or movie star in the event of his
or her early demise?
Atomic energy was thought a boon to
civilization until the development of atomic weapons, so massive in their
destructive abilities that most peaceful uses of atomic energy have been
sidelined. The one thing I have learned as a product of the 20th Century is that
most of the fantastic can become real. We must expect the unexpected.
So what is so terrifying about this
particular development? Most of us agree that the dead don’t "feel," and so
removing organs will not cause pain. Why do detractors of the procedure claim
that people will stop designating themselves as organ donors because they
shudder at the use of facial features post mortem?
For one thing, the very essence of
individuality is inherent in the face, the one part of a body that most uniquely
represents its bearer. No two faces, like snowflakes, are alike. Most of us fall
in love with a smile, a look, a face.
The soul is reflected, many believe, in
the face. In Thailand, the higher the body part, the more honored it is. Thus
one doesn’t touch another’s face or head casually, and pointing feet at someone
is an insult. It is no accident that pride in Asian societies is wrapped up with
"saving face." In addition, the memories we have of loved ones almost always
focus on their faces, the images of them in photographs, the occasional visual
reinforcement of the remembrance of someone’s eyes or lips. Finally, I believe,
it is easier to make more impersonal the removal of interior organs after death
to benefit others. We don’t see our kidneys every day: We aren’t particularly
attached to our insides except when they don’t function. But we do look at our
faces all the time. The fact that I almost wrote ourselves instead of our faces
shows how the concept of the self is inextricably associated with facial
appearance. It is often said that the aged get the faces they deserve, as though
being a good and loving person will insure a graceful old age, or that being a
nasty one will mean certain ugliness in the retirement home. I don’t agree. Lots
of other factors than wickedness are etched on people’s faces. I remember when
my mother lost her brother and sister within a year of each other (both were in
their early 40s) and the resultant emergence of new lines in her face. I
cherished them, as I did everything about her visage, as a part of the person
she was. There is certainly a sense of violation about peeling away someone’s
face and applying it to another’s. That is understandable. The other side of the
coin, however, is from the vantage point of the horribly disfigured. What a
difference might it make to be able to wear a face that generates welcome
instead of rejection? In spite of my disgust with our society’s emphasis on
physical beauty, and the increasing demand for ever more youthful looks on those
wearing older faces, I accept the reality that we are often judged by first
impressions. No one can contest the truth that the attractive often have an
easier time than those less blessed with beauty. It must be very lonely to be
hideously ugly or to live with the negative reactions of others on a daily basis
to a ravaged face.
It may not be inconceivable that this most
precious manifestation of our individuality can indeed be salvaged to ease the
pain of another if we but open our minds. Surgeons needn’t generate monstrous
uses of life-saving procedures, nor do we, perhaps, have to fear this ultimate
assault on our vanity. There must be a way, as in all medical breakthroughs, to
insure the ethical uses of such knowledge.