“Can We Really ‘Prevent’ Suicide? The Uncomfortable Truth Psychiatry Faces”
by Lauro Amezcua-Patino, MD, FAPA and Vincent Perez-Mazzola
Suicide Prevention: Risk Reduction vs. Absolute Prevention
Suicide prevention is a core goal in mental health and public health, but experts debate what “prevention” truly means in practice. Does it imply every suicide can be stopped, or is it more about reducing risk without a guarantee of zero cases? Many mental health organizations acknowledge that “not all suicides can be prevented” and focus on strategies to reduce the risk . In contrast, public health campaigns often emphasize that suicide is “preventable”, suggesting an optimistic view that every suicide could be averted . This contrast has sparked ongoing discussion in psychiatry, touching on philosophical ethics, clinical evidence, and policy implications. Below, we explore different perspectives — from debates over the term “prevention” itself, to what research shows about interventions, to how language influences policies, treatment approaches, and patient outcomes.
Philosophical and Ethical Perspectives on “Prevention”
What does “prevention” imply ethically? Some philosophers and ethicists question whether “suicide prevention” is a misleading term if it suggests an absolute guarantee. Aiming to prevent every suicide can conflict with individual autonomy and realistic outcomes. For example, a blanket goal of zero suicides may contravene ethical principles — it can be seen as inefficient or even harmful (challenging beneficence), overly paternalistic (limiting autonomy), and potentially stigmatizing or unrealistic (violating transparency) . As one analysis put it, a “zero-suicide” stance — the idea that no one should ever die by suicide — could burden many people and “a ‘zero’ goal that cannot be met” risks public frustration and distrust . Ethically, promising total prevention may overstep what is possible, raising concerns about honesty and potential harm if people feel failed by an unattainable ideal.
Autonomy vs. paternalism: Classical ethical debates on suicide highlight a tension between respecting a person’s autonomous choice and the impulse to save lives. Philosophers like Hume and Camus viewed suicide in certain circumstances as a rational, autonomous choice, while others argue life must be preserved whenever possible . In modern psychiatric ethics, most agree that if someone is acutely suicidal due to treatable mental illness or transient crisis, intervening to prevent suicide is justified — even if it means temporary coercion (a form of justified paternalism). The prevalence of mental disorders among those who die by suicide (around 90% in psychological autopsy studies) is often cited as moral grounds to “prevent suicide” in these cases . In other words, because many suicidal individuals are not in a state of true informed autonomy — they may be overwhelmed by depression, hopelessness, or psychosis — society and professionals feel a duty to protect them from an irreversible act. This aligns with the principle that we have an “obligation to prevent suicide” when a person’s decision-making is impaired, even if doing so sometimes requires restricting their freedom briefly .
On the other hand, ethicists also recognize exceptional situations where preventing a suicide might not be morally required. If a person is fully competent and facing incurable suffering (for instance, a terminal illness with extreme pain), some argue that suicide could be a permissible choice and forcing prevention would violate their autonomy . These cases are rare in psychiatric practice (more relevant to end-of-life ethics), but they underscore that the term “prevention” is not one-size-fits-all. Absolute language can be misleading if it ignores contexts where not intervening might be more ethical. In general, however, within psychiatry the prevailing ethical stance is to err on the side of life: given the often ambivalent and treatable nature of suicidal crises, preventing a suicide attempt (even through paternalistic means like hospitalization) is seen as the compassionate, ethical course . The debate arises in how far this should go — should we declare an unconditional mandate to stop all suicides, or acknowledge ethical limits and focus on reducing suicide as much as possible? Critics of the absolutist approach note that treating suicide as something that must be “eradicated” at all costs can infringe on personal rights and set up unrealistic moral expectations .
Is “prevention” the right word? From a linguistic standpoint, some experts suggest that saying “suicide is preventable” might oversimplify a complex reality. They argue it might be more accurate to speak of risk reduction or suicide safety. For instance, Dr. Michael Pollak contends that the phrase “Zero Suicide” — used in some initiatives — “implies the perfect outcome of irrevocably eliminating suicide”, akin to eradicating a disease, which is misleading . He notes that despite advances in medicine wiping out polio or curing infections, “there is no evidence that methods can be devised that would entirely eliminate suicide” . Ethically, using terms like “zero” or absolute “prevention” without clarification can give false hope or imply a promise that cannot always be kept. Philosophers writing in the British Journal of Psychiatry similarly recommend a middle path: instead of a hard “never ever” stance, base suicide prevention on harm reduction principles — do everything possible to save lives and reduce suicide rates, but accept that zero may not be fully attainable . This nuanced framing is both ethically honest and still firmly committed to preserving life. It respects the value of prevention while admitting it comes with limits.
Clinical Research: Effectiveness and Limitations of Prevention Strategies
From a clinical perspective, the goal of preventing suicide translates into a wide range of strategies: screening for risk, crisis hotlines, psychotherapy (like cognitive-behavioral therapy for suicide prevention), antidepressant or other medications, safety planning, follow-up outreach after hospital discharge, restricting access to lethal means (firearms, toxic pills, etc.), and more. These interventions have shown some effectiveness in reducing suicide risk, but research also highlights significant limitations — no approach offers a 100% guarantee.
Unpredictability of suicide risk: One major challenge is that clinicians cannot reliably predict exactly who will attempt or die by suicide. Suicide is statistically rare and influenced by many factors, making accurate prediction akin to “forecasting the weather” in a chaotic system . Standard suicide risk assessment tools and checklists, while a routine part of practice, have low positive predictive value — many people flagged as “high risk” will not go on to die by suicide, and some who die were assessed as “lower risk” . In short, risk scales produce a lot of false alarms and still miss some real dangers. As Dr. Pollak observes, “formal risk assessment…is notoriously unreliable” with “unacceptably high rates of false positives and false negatives.” Even with thorough evaluation, “suicide remains unpredictable in each case” . This means that even the best clinicians often cannot say who will be saved by an intervention and who might tragically slip through. Therefore, preventive efforts focus on broad risk reduction — addressing known risk factors and warning signs as much as possible — rather than perfect prediction.
Effectiveness of interventions: Despite the difficulty of prediction, certain strategies do have evidence for reducing suicide rates or attempts (though none is foolproof). A prominent example is means restriction: making it harder for at-risk individuals to access common lethal methods. Research shows this saves lives. For instance, limiting access to firearms in the home, adding barriers on suicide hotspots (bridges, high buildings), or reducing toxicity of gas and pesticides has led to measurable drops in suicides in various countries . The logic is simple: suicidal crises are often impulsive and brief, so if lethal means are less available, the impulse may pass without death. The American Medical Association notes that “restricting access to lethal means is an evidence-based intervention to reduce suicide risk” . However, while means reduction clearly lowers risk, it doesn’t absolutely guarantee prevention — a determined individual might find another method. It’s a risk reduction success, not an elimination of risk.
Other interventions also show partial but important benefits. Certain forms of therapy (like dialectical behavior therapy for suicidal individuals, or the Attempted Suicide Short Intervention Program in clinical trials) have reduced repeat suicide attempts and self-harm in research studies . Regular follow-up contact (such as letters, calls or texts to patients after a psychiatric hospitalization) has been linked to lower suicide rates in those groups, suggesting that persistent caring contact provides support during vulnerable periods. Safety planning — where a clinician and patient list coping strategies and emergency steps — is a common method; some studies show it reduces suicidal behavior, though findings are mixed . Medications like clozapine (for schizophrenia) and lithium (for mood disorders) have unique anti-suicidal effects in patients with those illnesses, lowering suicide rates compared to other treatments . And of course, treating underlying mental health conditions (depression, substance abuse, etc.) is fundamental to reducing long-term risk.
Despite these efforts, no intervention is 100% effective. Unfortunately, some patients who receive excellent care still die by suicide. Clinical trials and population data illustrate this sobering truth. For example, when antidepressants or therapy are given to large groups of suicidal patients, the overall suicide rate may drop, but not to zero — some individuals do not respond or remain at high risk. As the Canadian Mental Health Association notes, “good treatment is very important, but it may not immediately eliminate the risk of suicide” . This is why they emphasize staying connected and vigilant even as symptoms improve. A patient might seem better and still have an unexpected suicidal crisis. One illustrative story from a health system: a man with depression improved with treatment over two years; yet when a stressful moment hit, he accessed a firearm and took his life, despite everyone thinking he was out of danger . Such cases underscore that risk can resurface even after periods of stability.
In light of these realities, clinical researchers increasingly frame suicide prevention as a matter of risk management. The consensus is that we can save many lives with known strategies, but we cannot save everyone. Even comprehensive, high-quality care yields major risk reduction rather than total prevention. One group of experts bluntly stated, “No evidence-based measures exist for reaching zero suicide”, given that we “cannot even tell with high likelihood who will die by suicide, and [have] few effective measures” to drastically cut rates . However, they hastened to add that this doesn’t mean we should give up — rather, it means our goal should be realistic. We should implement all effective measures to achieve large reductions in suicide, while understanding that an irreducible minimum may remain due to factors beyond current control. In summary, clinical science supports a vigorous pursuit of suicide prevention as risk reduction: using every tool available to lower the incidence of suicide (and indeed many countries have seen rates fall with systematic prevention), but also being candid that “prevention” in this context means probabilistic improvement, not an absolute guarantee of safety in every single case .
Psychiatric and Public Health Viewpoints: Risk Reduction vs. “Zero Suicide”
Different stakeholders frame the suicide prevention mission in different ways. Public health officials and advocacy organizations often opt for an aspirational tone — conveying that suicide can be prevented and rallying communities to work toward that goal. In contrast, many clinical psychiatrists and researchers prefer to emphasize realistic risk reduction and caution against overpromising. This doesn’t reflect a difference in dedication, but rather in messaging and focus.
Public health perspective: At the population level, suicide prevention is approached like other public health issues (e.g. reducing smoking or traffic fatalities): set big goals and implement broad strategies. Agencies like the U.S. Centers for Disease Control (CDC) explicitly state that “suicide is preventable” , and they promote comprehensive prevention plans. The CDC and World Health Organization advocate a multi-level approach — strengthening economic supports, improving mental healthcare access, creating protective environments, teaching coping skills, identifying at-risk individuals, and promoting social connectedness . All these efforts in combination are aimed at lowering the overall suicide rate. For instance, the CDC’s national goal (as of recent years) is a 20% reduction in the suicide rate by 2025 . This implicitly acknowledges that while every single life lost is “one too many” (to quote a WHO report) , success will be measured in reduced numbers, not absolute zero. Public health leaders often use phrases like “a single suicide is one too many” or call suicide a “never event” in healthcare to stress the importance of action. These phrases set an ideal (no loss is acceptable) which serves as a moral guide, even if statistically one cannot reach a literal zero. The terminology here is aspirational — it aims to inspire maximal effort and funding for prevention programs.
Psychiatric and clinical perspective: Within psychiatry, there has been intense discussion about the “Zero Suicide” movement, which originated in healthcare systems. The Zero Suicide initiative posits that healthcare providers should accept nothing less than zero suicides among the patients under their care — treating suicide like a preventable medical error. This approach has been adopted in various places (including the UK, US, and elsewhere) as an “aspirational goal” for health systems . Notably, the Henry Ford Health System in Michigan pioneered this philosophy in their “Perfect Depression Care” program around 2001, literally asking “What’s an acceptable number of suicides?” and concluding “the only perfect outcome is zero.” They then reorganized care to pursue that goal . Impressively, over a decade, they achieved a dramatic reduction (around 75–80%) in patient suicide deaths, and even had some years with zero suicides in their patient population . This demonstrates that adopting a zero mindset can spur effective system changes — such as aggressive follow-up, removing access to means (as in the example of proactively getting a gun out of a patient’s home) , and constant quality improvements. The success of such programs is often cited by proponents to show that “suicide can be stopped” if we truly commit to best practices and refuse to accept any death as inevitable.
However, many frontline psychiatrists and researchers caution that “zero” should remain a motivating vision rather than a literal expectation. They appreciate the improvements from the Zero Suicide framework (like better training, standardized risk assessments, safety planning, etc.), yet worry about the implications of the term itself. As one commentary noted, “Zero Suicide implies [suicide] can be eradicated…much like some infectious diseases,” but “advances may…lower the incidence of suicide…[yet] are quite unlikely to eliminate it” entirely . Psychiatrists emphasize that despite our best efforts, human behavior and suffering cannot be made perfectly predictable or controllable. Thus, while “zero harm” is a noble aim (just as no airline wants any crashes, and no hospital wants any fatal errors), setting it as a hard target may inadvertently create unintended consequences.
Many in the psychiatric field therefore favor describing their mission as “suicide risk reduction” or “suicide safer care”. This viewpoint doesn’t diminish the urgency of prevention, but it frames it more in terms of continuous improvement rather than an absolute endpoint. For example, a 2023 ethics analysis proposed focusing on “harm reduction” and “soft paternalism” — meaning health systems should do everything possible to reduce suicide risk (harm reduction), and intervene assertively when needed but still in the least autonomy-restrictive way (soft paternalism) . This balanced approach respects that clinicians must sometimes act decisively to save lives (e.g. hospitalizing someone in acute suicidal crisis), but also that they should empower patients in care and not default to coercion for all future risk. It implicitly accepts that even with optimal care, a zero outcome can’t be guaranteed, so the focus should be on minimizing risk and improving quality of life, especially for those most vulnerable.
Meanwhile, public health officials continue to use optimistic messaging to galvanize action. Both perspectives have merit: the public health viewpoint pushes society to invest in prevention by declaring “we can prevent suicide”, and the clinical viewpoint injects realism, reminding us that prevention efforts lower risk but might not achieve the impossible. In practice, these perspectives are converging. For example, the U.S. National Strategy for Suicide Prevention describes Zero Suicide as an aspirational goal for healthcare, not a mandate, and simultaneously promotes measurable objectives like reducing the national suicide rate . Psychiatrists increasingly work hand-in-hand with public health experts to implement data-driven programs (like improving depression treatment, or community gatekeeper trainings) that have been shown to reduce suicide rates, even if they don’t save every single life. The ongoing debate in psychiatry isn’t about whether to prevent suicides — everyone agrees we should try — but about how to talk about prevention. Should we speak in terms of absolute outcomes (“stop all suicide”) to drive maximum effort? Or in terms of risk and probabilities (“reduce suicide as much as possible”) to stay scientifically accurate and ethically transparent? The trend is toward honest communication that both inspires hope and acknowledges limitations.
A supportive, compassionate approach is central to suicide prevention. Many clinicians focus on building hope and connection to reduce suicide risk, rather than simply relying on coercive measures. This reflects a risk reduction philosophy — helping individuals find reasons to live and ways to cope, recognizing that care and support can significantly lower the likelihood of suicide even if it can’t always be brought to zero.
How Terminology Influences Policy, Treatment, and Outcomes
The language we use — “suicide prevention” vs “risk reduction,” “zero suicides” vs “reduce suicides” — has practical effects. It shapes policies, clinical practices, and the experiences of patients and families.
• Policy-making: Terminology can set the tone for national and institutional policies. An absolute term like “Zero Suicide” in a policy can signal strong commitment and lead to funding and mandates to implement comprehensive prevention programs. The upside is a mobilization of resources and attention. The downside is if zero is taken literally without context. Policymakers might inadvertently create a “zero tolerance” culture around suicide, where every instance is seen as a failure of the system. This can lead to blame and punitive responses rather than learning. As Pollak warns, the “moniker of Zero Suicide runs the distinct risk of raising false hope for patients, their loved ones, and their health care providers.” He notes that it is “quite unlikely to eliminate [suicide]” and calls for the initiative to explicitly clarify that the real goal is “sharply reducing the occurrence of suicide, but not trying to extirpate it.” . If policies incorporate that nuance, it can set realistic benchmarks (e.g. percentage reductions) and encourage transparent reporting of outcomes. In contrast, policies that simply declare “we will have zero suicides” might be setting themselves up for public perception of failure, even if substantial progress is made. Thus, many experts urge policymakers to use precise language — for example, saying “our aim is to prevent as many suicides as possible and reduce the suicide rate” — which galvanizes action but leaves room for evaluating improvements short of perfection.
• Clinical treatment approaches: How clinicians talk about and understand “prevention” can influence their therapeutic approach. If a mental health team internalizes the idea that “any suicide is unacceptable and must be prevented”, they may practice more defensive or authoritarian medicine. For instance, they might be quicker to hospitalize patients involuntarily or overestimate risk, because the mandate is “don’t let them die on your watch.” This can indeed save some lives in the short term, but it can also have downsides: patients might feel they cannot honestly share suicidal thoughts for fear of coercion, or they may disengage from treatment after feeling their autonomy was taken away. An overly rigid prevention mindset could paradoxically erode trust. On the other hand, a clinician focused on risk reduction will still take suicidal statements extremely seriously, but may put more emphasis on collaborative safety planning, addressing underlying issues (trauma, despair, hopelessness), and using the least restrictive intervention compatible with safety. This approach can improve the therapeutic alliance and encourage patients to seek help early, potentially heading off crises. The balance is delicate: too lax an approach is dangerous, but an overzealous “zero failure” approach can be counterproductive if it alienates patients. In practice, most clinicians try to find a middle ground — high vigilance and aggressive intervention when needed (e.g. if someone is acutely at imminent risk), combined with ongoing efforts to empower the patient in their own care. The language of “preventability” also affects how providers feel about their work. If a patient does die by suicide, a team that believed “suicide is preventable” may experience intense guilt, shame, or even legal jeopardy, as if they did something wrong. Indeed, studies show that clinicians often suffer traumatic grief and self-blame after losing a patient to suicide . Pollak worries that a “utopian vision of a society free from death by suicide” could “exacerbate…reactions in people who have lost someone to suicide”, implying they failed in an achievable mission . By contrast, a risk-reduction framing might help clinicians and family members understand that they did the best they could with the knowledge and tools available, and sometimes tragedies still occur. This doesn’t reduce the imperative to improve; it simply prevents a culture of blame. Some hospitals have begun adopting a “just culture” approach when suicides happen — analyzing what can be learned and improved without automatically faulting providers — which is aligned with recognizing that not every suicide is 100% preventable.
• Patient and family outcomes: The words used in prevention messaging can also influence those who are directly affected by suicide. For patients struggling with suicidal thoughts, hearing “suicide is preventable” could instill hope — it sends a message that someone cares and there are ways to get through this. It can motivate them to reach out for help, believing that their fate is not sealed and that treatment can make a difference. On the other hand, if a patient has chronic suicidal feelings that do not fully go away despite treatment, the idea that it’s “preventable” might lead to a sense of personal failure or frustration (“Why am I not getting ‘cured’ of these thoughts? What’s wrong with me?”). It’s important for clinicians to clarify that “preventable” doesn’t mean “your thoughts will magically disappear” — rather, it means “together we can work to keep you safe and help you find reasons to live.” Similarly, families and loved ones are often told after a suicide that “it’s no one’s fault” and that not all suicides can be foreseen or stopped. This is to counter the crushing guilt that survivors frequently feel (“I should have prevented it”). If public campaigns too bluntly say “suicide is preventable!”, a grieving parent might interpret that as “my child’s death could have been prevented — and I or someone must have failed to do so.” This illustrates why sensitive language is important. Many suicide prevention groups now choose phrases like “suicide can be preventable” or “suicide is often preventable,” leaving room for the reality that, despite best efforts, some individuals still die. They emphasize shared responsibility (family, community, healthcare, individual, all playing a part in prevention) rather than implying a single person could have “saved” someone if only they tried harder. In terms of treatment outcomes, when patients and providers share a realistic understanding of goals, it can actually lead to better outcomes. For example, a patient might be told: “Our aim is to keep you safe and help you want to live; we have many effective tools, but it will be a collaborative effort.” This honest yet hopeful framing can increase the patient’s engagement in their safety plan (they see themselves as an active partner in reducing risk, not a passive subject of ironclad prevention). Policy terminology trickles down here too: if national policy focuses on building resilience and reducing risk factors (like unemployment, isolation, substance abuse), patients may benefit from broader social supports. If policy simply says “eliminate suicide” without specifics, it might invest in crisis management (hotlines, hospitalization) but neglect those upstream factors. Thus, terminology even guides which interventions are prioritized — “risk reduction” thinking tends to support comprehensive, long-term prevention measures (education, economic support, addressing inequality, etc.), whereas “stop suicide now” thinking might focus on short-term interdiction (crisis policing, emergency room interventions). Ideally, a balanced approach is achieved, but the language in strategies and funding proposals can subtly tilt priorities.
In sum, words like prevention vs risk reduction are not just semantics; they carry implications for how society organizes around suicide. Using precise and responsible terminology can ensure that we maintain urgency (no one is complacent about lives lost) while also maintaining honesty (no one is promised an impossible guarantee). As experts have suggested, reframing our goals in achievable terms can guide better policy and care: for instance, openly stating that the aim is to “sharply reduce the occurrence of suicide” through evidence-based means . This kind of wording still drives aggressive action but leaves room to support those impacted when a tragedy does happen. Ultimately, the consensus emerging in the field is that we should do everything we can to prevent suicide — knowing that “everything” will significantly reduce risk, though it may not always be able to stop every suicide . Such a perspective fuels continuous improvement and compassion, rather than defeatism or false confidence.
Reflexion
The debate in psychiatry over suicide prevention boils down to balancing hope and realism. On one side is the vital hope that every suicide can be prevented — an ethos that drives innovation, resources, and persistence in saving lives. On the other side is the sober realism that suicide, as a deeply human and complex phenomenon, may never be completely eliminated. Embracing prevention as risk reduction does not mean accepting suicide as inevitable; it means relentlessly working to lower the risk and rate of suicide through all available methods, while acknowledging human limits. Philosophically and ethically, this balance respects both the sanctity of life and the truth of uncertainty. Clinically, it guides professionals to use proven interventions and strive for improvement, without overpromising. And in policy, it encourages bold action and funding for prevention, but with metrics and messaging that are grounded in evidence.
In practice, the difference between “stopping suicide entirely” and “reducing suicide risk” might seem subtle, but it has profound implications. A culture that believes “all suicides are preventable” may pour energy into the cause — which is good — yet must be careful not to punish or stigmatize when a suicide occurs despite best efforts. A culture that understands “we can prevent most, but maybe not all, suicides” might be more forgiving and focused on learning from each loss, but must guard against complacency. The ideal path is likely one of compassionate zeal: treat every life as precious and worth saving (so we never stop trying to prevent suicide), while also supporting caregivers, families, and society with the understanding that if a suicide does happen, it is not because they didn’t care or try hard enough. As one commentary urged, we should “foster hope while not raising unrealistic expectations” . In doing so, we create an environment where people at risk of suicide receive vigorous help and empathy, systems improve continually, and everyone works together towards the day when suicide is as rare as humanly possible.
Sources:
• Pollak, M. (2020). “What’s in a Name: The Problem with Zero Suicide.” Psychiatric Times. (Discusses the implications of the term “Zero Suicide” and the need for realistic goals) .
• Gradus, J. et al. (2023). “The phantasm of zero suicide.” British Journal of Psychiatry, 222(6), 230–233. (Analyzes the ethical issues of a zero-suicide goal and proposes harm reduction as an alternative) .
• Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). “Preventing Suicide: A Technical Package of Policy, Programs, and Practices.” (Public health perspective stating “suicide is preventable” and outlining strategies) .
• Canadian Mental Health Association (CMHA). “Preventing Suicide.” (Resource emphasizing that not all suicides can be prevented but risk can be reduced with proper measures) .
• Cambridge University Press. “Ethical perspectives on suicide and suicide prevention.” Advances in Psychiatric Treatment. (Overview of philosophical views on the duty to prevent suicide vs. respect for autonomy) .
• AMA Moving Medicine. “The pioneers of zero suicide take on a new frontier.” American Medical Association (2021). (Describes the Henry Ford Health “Zero Suicide” initiative and its outcomes) .
• Psychology Today (Joe Pierre, MD & Tyler Black, MD). “Does Suicide Risk Assessment Really Prevent Suicide?” (Discusses the limitations of predicting suicide and shifting focus to prevention efforts) .
• Pollak, M. (2020). “Zero Suicide: The Dogged Pursuit of Perfection in Health Care.” Psychiatric Times. (Emphasizes the need to instill hope but avoid unrealistic expectations in suicide prevention) .
• Fazel, S. & Runeson, B. (2020). “Suicide.” New England Journal of Medicine, 382(3), 266–274. (Review of suicide risk factors and prevention, noting challenges in prediction).
• Cavanagh, J., Carson, A., Sharpe, M., & Lawrie, S. (2003). “Psychological autopsy studies of suicide: a systematic review.” Psychological Medicine, 33(3), 395–405. (Finding ~90% of suicides had mental illness, supporting interventions).
• National Action Alliance for Suicide Prevention (2012). “National Strategy for Suicide Prevention: Goals and Objectives for Action.” (Introduced Zero Suicide as an aspirational goal for healthcare and set target reductions in suicide rates).
• World Health Organization (2014). “Preventing Suicide: A Global Imperative.” (Global report advocating that every suicide is preventable with a comprehensive approach, while presenting data on effective interventions).