Patient autonomy is paramount to the oath that we take when we

Hear now, O children of healing and justice, the fervent words of Ami Bera, physician and servant of the people, who proclaimed: “Patient autonomy is paramount to the oath that we take when we enter the profession of medicine. That is why I am appalled when the federal government gets between my patients and their right to the full range of medical information and complete access to health care.” These words resound like a cry of conscience, a reminder that at the heart of medicine is not bureaucracy, nor power, nor profit, but the sacred covenant between healer and patient.

The origin of this truth lies in the physician’s ancient oath, spoken first in the halls of Greece when Hippocrates called his followers to lives of service. In that vow, the healer binds himself not to governments, nor kings, nor institutions, but to the suffering person before him. This is the meaning of patient autonomy: that every human being is sovereign over their own body, their own choices, their own destiny of health and illness. To betray this is to betray the very foundations of medicine itself.

Bera speaks with anguish because he has seen what happens when the state places itself between healer and patient. When medical information is censored, when options are stripped away, when access is blocked, the patient ceases to be sovereign and becomes instead a subject. The healer’s hands are tied, his wisdom silenced, his oath dishonored. Such interference is not the protection of life, but the erosion of freedom, dignity, and trust.

History bears witness to the dangers of such meddling. In the Soviet Union, medicine was once twisted into a tool of ideology, with physicians forced to declare dissidents insane to justify their imprisonment. In Nazi Germany, the sacred oath was perverted into cruelty, with doctors compelled to betray their calling in service of tyranny. In both cases, government control over medical practice did not heal but destroyed, reducing patients to pawns in a larger game. Bera’s words echo as a warning: let not such shadows return.

Yet history also shines with examples of physicians who defended autonomy at great cost. Consider Ignaz Semmelweis, who urged doctors to wash their hands to protect women in childbirth. Though mocked and resisted, he honored the right of patients to safety and knowledge, even when the establishment opposed him. Or Elizabeth Blackwell, the first woman physician in America, who defied social scorn to give women access to dignified and competent care. In each of these stories, the truth is the same: respect for the patient must triumph over the barriers imposed by others.

The deeper meaning of Bera’s words is a call to vigilance. Freedom is fragile, and the rights of patients can erode quietly, not always through cruelty, but through the slow creep of regulation, denial of care, and the silencing of information. The healer must not only cure disease but also guard the dignity of those who seek his help. For the patient does not stand alone; the physician’s oath is a shield, promising that their choices and voices will be honored.

The lesson is clear: if you are a healer, let autonomy guide your practice. If you are a patient, know that your rights are sacred and must not be surrendered. And if you are a citizen, defend a system where care is given in freedom, truth, and trust, not dictated by distant powers. Practical action follows: advocate for access, oppose censorship of medical knowledge, and stand beside those whose voices are silenced in the halls of health.

Thus let Bera’s words endure: “Patient autonomy is paramount… I am appalled when the government gets between my patients and their rights.” Carry them as a reminder that medicine is not merely a science, nor merely a service, but a sacred covenant of trust. And when you honor that trust, you preserve not only health, but humanity itself.