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
Community
Migration
Politics
5 min read

Starmer’s ‘island of strangers’ rhetoric is risky and wrong

The Prime Minister needs an English lesson.

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

A prime minister stands next to an Albanian police officer in front of a ferry.
Border control. Starmer in Albania.
X.com/10DowningSt.

In a recent speech launching the UK government’s white paper on immigration, Prime Minister Keir Starmer expressed concern that the country risks becoming an “island of strangers.” It is a compelling phrase - yet, for many, a deeply worrying one. Some argue it echoes Enoch Powell’s notorious 1968 “Rivers of Blood” speech, in which the then Conservative MP for Wolverhampton claimed that people in the UK were being “made strangers in their own country”. Even if the reference was unintentional, the sentiment is divisive and dangerous. Here are five reasons why this narrative must be challenged.  

Geography: We are fundamentally connected  

First and foremost, the United Kingdom is not a single island. To describe it as such is not only geographically inaccurate but symbolically unhelpful and politically careless. This sort of language risks excluding all those UK citizens who live in the other 6,000 islands that make up our country - islands such as the Isle of Wight, Anglesey, the Hebrides, Orkney, Shetland and the Channel Islands, as well as the 2 million UK citizens who live in Northern Ireland. Many of our families, mine included, are testament to the fact that between the British Isles there are connections and marriages. We are islands, plural, united by a national bond of friendship and collaboration, and a shared story of connection across water.  

Sociology: We are intrinsically social  

The notion that the UK is becoming “an island of strangers” contradicts what we know about how human societies function. We are fundamentally relational - forming and building connections in our schools, workplaces, neighbourhoods, shops, and clubs on a daily basis. Even if we do not know the names of those who live across the street, we have a great deal in common. They are not strangers, but neighbours. In times of crisis, as shown during the Covid pandemic, neighbourliness is a critical front-line defence. To undermine that by calling our neighbours ‘strangers’ is a recipe for social breakdown. True social cohesion can never come through exclusion only by being deliberately nurtured through acts of welcome, the language of inclusion and recognition of shared purpose and identity.  

Language: What we say matters 

In his speech, the Prime Minister gave credence to the claim that migrants fail to integrate because they don’t speak English. He said: “when people come to our country, they should also commit to integration, to learning our language.” But English proficiency is not the main barrier to social cohesion. As a country that proudly recognises multiple languages: Welsh, Scottish Gaelic, Irish, Cornish, British Sign Language, we should understand this. And as a nation who fails miserably at learning other world languages we should appreciate the enormous effort it takes to learn any level of English. The vast majority of migrants put us to shame in how quickly and readily they learn to communicate effectively. Might I suggest that the Prime Minister - whose speech contained questionable language that was factually untrue, politically dangerous and socially offensive - might benefit from an English lesson himself? 

Honesty: We benefit from migration 

When the Prime Minister claimed he was launching a strategy to “close the book on a squalid chapter for our politics, our economy, and our country,” he implied that migration is to blame for many of the difficulties the UK is facing. This is not a new tactic — some of the world’s darkest moments have been preceded by politicians stoking fear and resentment against immigrants for political gain. We must resist this rhetoric. Perhaps we could start by asking exactly which migrants are being blamed for this so-called "squalid chapter"? Is it the 200,000 people from Hong Kong who have arrived under the British National Overseas scheme, bringing skills and making major contributions to our economy? Or the 250,000 Ukrainian refugees who have been welcomed with open arms and helped knit communities closer together? Is it the 30,000 Afghans who supported British forces, risking their lives to do so? Or the 750,000 international students contributing £35 billion a year to the UK economy, sustaining our universities and global reputation for outstanding education and research? What about the 265,000 non-British NHS staff who work tirelessly to care for our sick and elderly? Blaming migrants for the UK’s problems is dishonest and dangerously divisive, potentially alienating the very people who are often most invested in making the country stronger, safer, and more successful.  

Integrity: We need to fix the real problem  

The Prime Minister’s use of the phrase “island of strangers” strikes a chord, not because we are all strangers to one another - we are not - but because many of us increasingly feel isolated in our own communities. There is evidence to support this emotional response. According to the Office for National Statistics, around 27% of adults in the UK report feeling lonely always, often, or some of the time. A report titled A Divided Kingdom, published just a day after the government’s immigration white paper, highlights growing intergenerational divides with only 5.5 per cent of children in the UK living near someone aged 65 or older, and just seven per cent of care home residents regularly interacting with anyone under the age of 30. Young adults are increasingly working remotely, reducing opportunities for casual, everyday social contact. Rising numbers of people live alone, and digital technology — while connecting us in some ways — often replaces the richness of face-to-face relationships. 

These shifts are not caused by immigration, and blaming migrants for the disconnections and discontent we feel only distracts us from addressing the real causes of social fragmentation. We need to find ways to reconnect with one another in person, recognising in those around us the image of God, our common humanity and the opportunity for service. 

Starmer’s narrative must be challenged before it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. The great English poet and cleric John Donne famously wrote: 

 “No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.”  

It would be sad if, in our modern world, we lost sight of that truth and ended up becoming estranged islanders floating on a sea of fear and xenophobia. 

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