‘Sarco’ by Philip Nitschke

In 2017, Australian assisted dying activist Philip Nitschke created the Sarco (short for ‘sarcophagus’) suicide capsule. This 3D-printed device releases nitrogen at the press of a button, rapidly reducing oxygen levels and causing the individual inside the chamber to die from hypoxia. Sarco was not only developed as a device which facilitates assisted dying, but is also conceptualised and promoted—through its narrative framing and visual design, as well as through public exhibitions and immersive experiences — to convey its creator's vision of what constitutes a ‘good death,’ with personal autonomy at its centre. To Nitschke, who regards the right to die as a fundamental human right, Sarco challenges what he views as restrictive assisted dying laws and medical paternalism. He intends to make it an open-source project which will enable individuals to 3D-print the capsule themselves. The device would thus allow individuals to choose to die whether or not they are legally permitted an assisted death according to the laws of the place where they live. Access to Sarco would therefore not be limited to those who meet certain medical criteria – such as having life-threatening or chronic illnesses—or who can access prescriptions for and administration of lethal medication. Nitschke believes that every mentally competent adult should have the freedom to choose death, even if that person is in good health. It is no coincidence, then, that a Sarco model was featured on stage in a 2022 performance of Ferdinand von Schirach’s play Gott which explores the right of a healthy protagonist to an assisted death. Sarco’s most defining feature is its design. Created in collaboration with Dutch industrial designer Alexander Bannink, the capsule has a futuristic, almost sci-fi aesthetic that evokes the look of a spaceship. This design choice reinforces the longstanding metaphor of death as a 'final journey,' with its promoters asking rhetorically: "Death is a voyage of sorts … Sarco makes it an event to remember?" A key feature of the capsule is its mobility, allowing users to choose where they would like to die, such as in a beautiful outdoor setting, viewable through its transparent canopy. Referring to the movie Soylent Green, Nitschke remarked that while the “ground-breaking” film “showed the benefit of the peace that pretty pictures and a soothing soundtrack can bring,” it failed to convey “the possibility of feeling not just dignity at the end, but of feeling euphoric”—a sensation Nitschke claims Sarco can offer through death by hypoxia. Sarco’s marketing and outreach strategy incorporated a highly performative aspect, with presentations at several conventions and exhibitions in museums, including a virtual reality experience at the 2018 Amsterdam Funeral Fair, allowing visitors to simulate the use of the device. The third and most recent model of the capsule was officially presented in 2024, and first used in September 2024 in Switzerland—a country with a liberal legal framework surrounding assisted dying. Sarco was used with the involvement of The Last Resort, a Swiss branch of the right-to-die organization Exit International of which Nitschke is the founder and director.

Since Nitschke’s first presentation, Sarco has been met with serious ethical concerns and fierce criticism. The capsule’s futuristic design has raised fears that it glamorizes suicide. Furthermore, Nitschke’s plan to publish 3D-printing instructions online—and thus eventually remove the need for third-party involvement—has led critics to worry the device could cause “suicide contagion,” particularly endangering vulnerable and mentally ill individuals. Sarco’s opponents argue it is essential for individuals to be assisted by competent professionals when deciding whether or not they wish to die, and that important safeguards, such as the guidance of healthcare professionals, exist in order to ensure that an individual’s decision to die is truly autonomous and well-considered. Safety concerns have also been raised about Sarco’s use of nitrogen, as some question whether it can truly guarantee a peaceful and painless death. Another major point of criticism concerns the kind of death Sarco represents, as some see Sarco as an expression of modern “hyper-individualism.” Disability rights activist Stephen Duckworth warned that Sarco would “deprive users of human connection and replace it with a lonely, virtual reality experience” and that “ it disconnects people from everything that makes life worth living and gives death meaning.” Duckworth further called Sarco “the antithesis of what the choice of assisted dying represents.” Beyond ethical objections, legal concerns have also surfaced. Although Nitschke obtained a legal opinion from a law firm affirming that Sarco complied with Swiss law, a criminal investigation was launched following its first use. The event also sparked widespread societal and political debate about tightening the regulations governing assisted suicide. At present, the debate has focused less on criminal liability—since Sarco’s promoters do not appear to violate Article 115 of the Swiss Criminal Code through selfish motives—and more on the legal authorisation of the method itself. On one side, concerns have been raised that Sarco bypasses the established model of medical professionals acting as gatekeepers. On the other, there is unease about the device’s highly technical nature, which seems to mark a new frontier in assisted dying. In response to a motion and interpellation from the MPs, the Federal Council stated that it would await the outcome of ongoing legal investigations regarding Sarco’s legal status before determining whether, and where, regulatory action is required. As for the circumvention of medical professionals in the process, the Federal Council indicated that enforcing a ban is highly unlikely, as Swiss law does not mandate medical involvement in assisted suicide. In this context, reference was again made to the origins of Article 115, in force since 1942—a time when medically assisted suicide was not yet anticipated. When the law was drafted, legislators assumed that assistance in dying would typically come not from physicians, but from individuals close to the person seeking to die.