Article
Assisted dying
Care
Comment
Ethics
6 min read

It's a dreadful thing when we regard the disabled, the dependent, and the different as disposable

A MND sufferer reflects on the historic vote to legalise assisted dying
A crowded House of Commons awaits a vote.
MPs await the result.
Parliament TV.

I can’t say I’m surprised, but I am disappointed. The euthanasia juggernaut has been gathering momentum throughout the western world. In this country it appeared as the Voluntary Euthanasia Society, to be later rebranded as the richly endowed Dignity in Dying. It’s been beavering away for decades, with well publicised personal stories and legal cases which have been very effective in persuading general opinion that dying is frequently nasty and that we should have the right to choose when and how to die. That organisation resisted using the term ‘suicide’, which is what they advocate, realising that it opens up the accusation of devaluing life. So, I’m not surprised that MPs have, after an impassioned debate, by a narrow majority, eventually given way to the pressure.

A fortnight ago, I had my annual check-up at the motor neurone disorder clinic and subsequently received the GP letter.

“Date seen 02/06/2025…  Diagnosis (this visit) Primary Lateral Sclerosis…  Symptom onset 2000”.

I well remember the year 2000, my voice deteriorating, my balance starting to fail me, resulting finally a year later in the consultant’s verdict, “You have a motor neurone disorder.”

I knew what that meant as at the time Diane Pretty, backed and publicised by the Voluntary Euthanasia Society, was fighting through the courts as far as the European Court of Human Rights for the right for her husband to take her to commit suicide in Switzerland in the Dignitas “clinic”. It was a frightening time to receive an MND diagnosis, and it still is today. The normal progression is both swift and relentless. However, the Motor Neurone Disease Association does say “in the majority of cases, death with MND is peaceful and dignified”.

At that time I could have been depressed; I could have known how much care I would need, how much it might eat into our savings; I could have feared the physical and emotional toll it would take on my wife; I could have been desperate about the future. Certainly I was vulnerable. Fortunately, I was of an optimistic nature and had plenty of reasons for living.

But it could easily have been otherwise. I might well have panicked and opted for a doctor to help me die, if the law debated in the Commons today was in effect. Then I wouldn’t have seen two sons getting married nor grandchildren being born and growing up. I would have missed out on twenty years of an increasingly restricted but paradoxically fulfilled life.

Of course you might argue that I’m ‘lucky’ to have, as became clear over the years, my exceptionally rare and slow form of MND, but I wasn’t to know that, as indeed none of us do despite our doctors’ best predictions. Indeed I am lucky to be alive.

However it was my experience that brought me face to face with the fact of my own mortality and the issue of assisted dying. There seemed to me to be four main drivers. First, the desire for autonomy; second, the insistence of independence; third, a sort of compassion, and fourth, finance. There were two further factors: fear of death and fear of being “a burden”.

Autonomy

It’s a modern western concept that humans are by nature autonomous beings, meaning that choice is an inalienable right. I once co-wrote a book with the title, I Choose Everything, based on a quote of Therèse of Lisieux. It was from a childhood incident, but it did not mean she reserved the right for total autonomy, but rather the opposite. As she later wrote, “I fear only one thing: to keep my own will; so take it, for ‘I choose all!’ that you (God) will!”

Absolute choice is not a virtue. Choosing where to drive your car is not a virtue as it can endanger other road users. There are many limitations on freedom or taboos that protect others in a society. Taking someone’s life directly or indirectly is a universal one. Individuals submitting to a higher authority holds a community and a nation together.  

Independence

Another related modern heresy is the ideal of independence. How utterly fatuous this is! None of us is born independent. We’re born relational. All of our lives we are interdependent. Being cared for is not to be lacking in dignity. Being 100% dependent does not deprive someone of their human dignity. Even the most disabled person is a human being made in the image of God. It is a dreadful thing when a society regards the disabled, the dependent, the different, the mentally deficient and the declining as inferior and potentially disposable. Of course the advocates of the Bill would vehemently deny that they or it implied any such thing. Yet the history of the twentieth century bears witness to how subtly a society can be seduced by the pernicious philosophy of eugenics.

Compassion

It is a modern paradox that medical advances have contributed to the illusion that death is to be feared. Yes, death has always been the last enemy and, yes, we hope it will be peaceful. But we shall all die. Contrary to received wisdom, the compassionate response to that fact of life is not to “put someone out of their misery”; compassion (literally suffering with) means to be with them in their suffering. This is what good palliative care provides, making the end of life dignified, worth living and even pain free.

As former Prime Minister Gordon Brown pertinently asked, “When only a small fraction of the population are expected to choose assisted dying, would it not be better to focus all our energies on improving all-round hospice care to reach everyone in need of end-of-life support?”

Finance

Of course palliative care costs more than facilitating patients to take their own lives. According to the Daily Mail “Legalising assisted dying would save the taxpayer £10million in NHS costs in its first year, rising to £60million after a decade, according to grim new estimates published by the government.” The estimates are indeed grim, but also attractive to politicians straining to balance the national budget. Yet they raise the fundamental question: do we want to live in a society which values money over life?

Which is the most fundamental of all the issues: the sanctity of life has been a core principle central to all the Abrahamic faiths, which undergird our culture and way of life. In the words of Job on hearing of the death of all his children, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.” The start and end of life are not ours to determine. We lack the wisdom of God.

Apparently the majority of our parliamentarians have decided to place that prerogative into the hands of suggestible and distinctly fallible humans beings. We or our children shall, I fear, reap the whirlwind.

As an afterthought I have a number of friends who disagree with me, often after personal experience of watching a loved one die. I sympathise and I suppose that I must be glad for them that the MPs have represented their wishes. And I would never condemn them if they decided to choose the route of assisted dying for themselves. I hope they won’t have to.

Meanwhile I trust that, when the Bill comes to the upper house, their Lordships will fulfil their function of revising it wisely and effectively. They certainly have relevant expertise, for example in the field of palliative care - which is in danger of being squeezed following this bill.

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Article
Comment
Football
Justice
5 min read

The 50-year injustice at the heart of women’s football

Now we need to do these two things to put right decades of disparity
A victorious women's football team celeberate.
It came home.
The Football Association.

I don’t normally like men’s international football. I spend all season wishing Bukayo Saka and Jordan Pickford nothing but misfortune and now, suddenly, I’m expected to cheer them on? Not for me, thanks. I’ll stick to revelling in scouse Schadenfreude when football, inevitably, does not come home. 

By contrast, I find the Lionesses much easier to support. That’s probably because, to my shame, I don’t really follow the Women’s Super League as much as I should. I don’t watch them with any petty grudges lingering in my mind. It does mean, however, that I can happily join the 12.2 million other people tuning in to watch Chloe Kelly hop, skip, and volley England to another European Championship. 

It also helps that they seem to keep winning in the most implausible ways possible. There’s a stat going round social media at the moment that, across all the knock-out games of this Euros, England were only ahead for 4 minutes and 52 seconds. Incredible. 

The Lionesses have – yet again – managed to show their nation the joy and drama of football and look set to inspire yet more women and girls to get involved in grass roots football. Women’s football, it would seem, is in rude health. But, look beneath the surface a little, and there are still significant disparities between the women’s game and the men’s game. 

In May, Chelsea effectively sold their women’s team to themselves: they sold the team to BlueCo (Chelsea’s parent company) for a reported £198.7m. This is not the first time Chelsea have engaged creative accounting. In April. 2024, the club revealed it had sold two hotels it owned to one of BlueCo’s sister companies (a move later upheld by the Premier League itself). A whole women’s football team – a good one, at that! – being leveraged for accounting purposes. 

Elsewhere, Liverpool Women’s Team sold their star player – Canadian forward Olivia Smith – to Arsenal for a world record fee of … £1m. To put that into context, Liverpool’s men’s team have already bought Florian Wirtz for roughly £116m this summer. They may add to that by buying Alexander Isak for anywhere up to £150m. And that’s to ignore the purchases Hugo Ekitike (£69m), Milos Kerkez (£40.8m), or Jeremie Frimpong (£35m). Moreover, the first male player to be sold by an English club was Trevor Francis, sold by Birmingham City to Nottingham Forrest. The year? 1979. 46 years ago. 

In purely financial terms, then, the women’s game seems to be about 50 years behind the men’s. And yet, there are the Lionesses. They have just retained the European Championship. They have made three finals in a row, winning the Euros twice and narrowly losing the World Cup final in 2023. By contrast, the men’s team famously haven’t won a major trophy since 1966. 

And so why does women’s football exist in an alternative financial universe about 50 years behind the men’s game? Well, I think a big part of it is making up for lost time. 

The FA banned women from playing at FA-affiliated grounds between 1921 and 1971. Did you know that? It’s one of the UK’s greatest sporting shames and yet it’s hardly common knowledge. How like this country to front up to its institutional mistakes with silence. 

For 50 years women were effectively unable to participate in the sport in any meaningful and professional way. 50 years. Where have we heard that number before? 

Prior to this, women’s football had been rather popular. Dick, Kerr Ladies FC regularly attracted matchday audiences of thousands. In 1920, the year before the FA ban, 53,000 fans went to Goodison Park to watch they play against St. Helens. For context, this is a crowd so big the vast majority of Premier League stadiums would not be able to accommodate it. It would fill Brentford’s stadium three times over, and there would still be people queuing up outside. 

For 50 years, men’s football was able to accelerate and grow while women’s football matches simply weren’t possible. Who knows where women’s football would be now, if it had been allowed to continue with the successes it had won for itself. 

The success of the men’s game is built, in part, upon the enforced stagnation of the women’s game. People watched men’s football because it was the only football it was possible to watch. Men’s football owes its success in part to this. I don’t see how we can say otherwise. In response to this, I wonder if there are two things the sport might do to attempt to rectify this somewhat: one big, one small. 

First, the big change. I wonder if there does need to be some form of reparations instituted to restore parity and to right the wrongs of the past? I know this won’t be popular. I love football, and I love it when my football club spends loads of money on players. I love that Liverpool (men’s team) might spend over £100m on two separate players this summer. I probably shouldn't be rubbing my hands at this, but if I’m honest, I am. 

But at least some of this money ought to be diverted away from the men’s game and funnelled towards the women’s game. If men’s football is built in no small part on the enforced cessation of women’s football, then this seems only to be right. It’s not about punishing men’s football or paying a penalty for wrongdoing. It’s simply about restoring back to women’s football that which rightfully belongs to it. 

Second, the small change. We should start calling men’s football teams ‘Men’s Football Teams’. When I talk about Liverpool Men’s Team, I just say ‘Liverpool’. I know, and anyone listening to me knows, that I mean the men’s team. I then add ‘Women’s’ when I’m talking about the Women’s Team. 

The effect of this is that the ‘Men’s Team’ becomes the ‘default’ way of thinking about football. It is the ‘normal’ way of engaging with the sport, and this is then qualified or relativised by my talking about ‘Women’s football’ elsewhere. ‘Women’s Football’ becomes a smaller sub-category of the bigger category of ‘football’ as a whole, which is implicitly linked to ‘Men’s football’ specifically. 

By taking the time to specify ‘Men’s Football’, we remind one another that football needn’t be played by men at all. That it, too, is just one way in which the sport might be engaged with or played. Not the ‘default’ or ‘correct’ way the sport exists. It’s a small change that, with time, may have a big effect on the way the sport as a whole of perceived. 

50 years of injustice cannot be repaired overnight. There is a lot of work to be done to undo the wrongs of football’s historic treatment of women. But the sooner men’s football starts, the sooner justice will be restored. 

Support Seen & Unseen

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,500 articles. All for free. 
This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?
 
Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief