BRING ME THE HEAD OF SADDAM HUSSEIN
K. L. Billingsley on
the internationalisation of cryonics
San Diego, California THE two men wore sunglasses and dark business suits that bulged suspicously in places. They wanted to speak with the doctor, who, with some caution, welcomed them into his office. A certain wealthy and powerful leader, they said, had sent them to enquire about having himself preserved and duplicated. Why? asked the doctor. Does he have some rare disease? Or is he planning some dangerous venture? `Never
'Trust you to make yourself conspicuous.'
mind,' said one of the men, stubbing out a cigarette, `just tell us about the freezing bit.'
Something along these lines actually happened. In July, just before ordering his Sturmtruppen into Kuwait, the Iraqi dicta- tor Saddam Hussein sent representatives to the American Cryonics Society (ACS) in Cupertino, California, headed by self- proclaimed genius Dr Avi Ben-Abraham. Like other cryonics organisations, ACS freezes heads (the `neuro' treatment, to you, $45,000) and entire bodies ($125,000) in the hope that Science will one day be able to revive them to new life. The Arab world, for all its wealth, evidently posses- ses no such industry.
According to Dr Ben-Abraham, the Iraqi emissaries discussed the possibility of freezing Hussein's semen, or providing cell tissues for the purpose of cloning Saddam II. The doctor provided the Iraqis with information but (attention George Bush) insists that no freezing or cloning took place. 'At the time, we would have helped them,' the doctor said. 'But not now.' ACS refuses further comment on the subject.
In a similar though post-mortem case a few years ago, relatives of Anastasio Somoza brought the late Nicaraguan strongman's porous remains to a facility in Florida. The institution turned them down for two reasons: there wasn't much left to preserve, and they feared attacks by terror- ists worried about a Somoza comeback. But it's not only dictators who are queueing for a place in the freezer. In September, a California judge re- jected a bid by Thomas Donaldson PhD, a mathematician and computer consultant, to have his head sawn off and frozen before he dies. State officials called the idea `murder one'. Donaldson suffers from a malignant brain tumour and holds a slim chance of living until 1993. He said that `under the current, stupid criteria, my brain could be entirely destroyed before Pm dead.'
Alcor had once been unjustly suspected of relieving an elderly woman, Dora Kent, of her head before she naturally expired. The organisation is currently embroiled in a dispute over the remains of wealthy television writer-producer-actor Richard C. Jones (aka Dick Clair) who in 1987 signed an agreement leaving $5 to $20 million in residuals to Alcor. Relatives are challenging the will. But such disputes have not quashed an aggressive promotion- al campaign in Europe. Next weekend Alcor will sponsor a `European Cryonics Conference,' at a hotel by Gatwick airport, the Moat House — which will include cryonoids from nine countries. Guests will examine the new facility built in East Sussex by Alcor UK, which will enable Europeans 'to be sus- pended under first-rate conditions' and `make it easier for them to recruit new members'. The vehicle that will bring in the stiffs is painted white and labelled `Ambulance', and 'Alcor Recovery'. Visi- tors will tour 'the operating room' and `the long-term patient care area', where loved ones in 'cryogenic dewars' remain sus- pended in arctic repose. Also on the bill, head still intact, is
Thomas Donaldson, who will explain his efforts to gain the right to 'pre-mortem' suspension. To promote the conference, the head-freezers call in aid the words of scientists at a number of prestigious univer- sities in America and Europe. Pierre Bout- ron PhD, of Laboratoire Louis Neel in Grenoble says that cryonics 'contributes to scientific and medical research' while the molecular biologist James Lewis calls the practice a 'rational gamble'. Most enthu- siastic of all is Arthur C. Clarke of 2001 fame, who Alcor describes as a 'writer of science fiction and science fact with an admirable record as a prophet'.
Clarke estimates that cryonics has a 90 per cent chance of working. Those who contend that it has no chance of success and does not advance scientific knowledge, adds the author, are 'not only incompetent but guilty of doing grave damage to society — like the doctors who opposed anesthe- tics and even aseptics, in the last century, because they were "against Nature"!'
The main motive for cryonics is — one imagines — the hope of preserving loved ones and the prospect of joyous reunion. Helping with the cryonic suspension of a friend's mother, says a children's librarian Steve Bridge, 'was one of the emotional highlights of my life'. There is however, another less charming motivation, which will also be introduced at Gatwick: 'How to Take Your Money With You' is the title of one workshop. The logic is simple enough: if one is not dead but a patient under long-term care, why give away one's money to greedy heirs? Those slated for freezing can 'contribute money (and other assets)' to the Reanimation Foundation, a `non-profit' organisation with headquarters in Vaduz, Liechtenstein, according to the promotional blurb for the Gatwick confer- ence. And why Liechtenstein? `Liechtenstein is one of few politically stable countries where there is no rule against perpetual trusts,' claims Alcor's Carlos Mondragon, who explains that Cali- fornia 'prohibits perpetual trusts'. Mean- while, the funds will be handled by Union Bank of Zurich, Switzerland. Alcor's Saul Kent, son of the departed Dora, says that `four or five' people already have accounts, and 'ten to fifteen', mostly Americans, have made enquiries. But the place, like cryonics itself, may have metaphysical problems.
Mondragon says that the Reanimation Foundation is separate from Alcor but its prime mover is Saul Kent. Its advertising brochure shows a castle-like structure in a spectacular Alpine setting. However, this is not Reanimation's headquarters but the residence of the local monarch. And though described as 'a Liechtenstein foundation', Kent says that the office in that country cannot be contacted directly. All enquiries must be routed through him or a charge-free number in Florida.
The foundation claims it will assist 'the reintroduction of reanimated patients into society' and can return your money 'with interest', a most attractive proposition for a millionaire suspended for, say, 100 years with only nitrogen and electricity as living expenses. But there's a catch.
You get the money, 'if and when you are restored to life, health and youth'. No such person has been scheduled to address the Gatwick conference.
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