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
Assisted dying
Comment
Freedom of Belief
Politics
5 min read

Holding an opposing view is not 'imposing' belief on the assisted dying debate

Opposing interventions from believers on dishonesty grounds is a sinister development in public debate

Nick is an author and Senior Fellow at Theos,a think tank.

A graphic shows a gallery of people with religious symbols on their clothing.

“There are some who oppose this crucial reform,” Esther Rantzen wrote recently of MPs who dared to opposed Kim Leadbeater’s Terminally Ill Adults (End of Life private member’s bill. “Many of them have undeclared personal religious beliefs…  [do] they have the right to impose them on patients like me, who do not share them?” 

This is a peculiarly common argument for those who support the right to Assisted Dying, which is surprising as it would be hard to come up with a less coherent case against religion in public life. The idea that elected MPs engaged in parliamentary debate are “imposing” their will on other people is odd. The idea that MPs have undeclared personal religious beliefs is strange too. I think it’s fair to say that most people know that Shabana Mahmood is a Muslim or Tim Farron is a Christian, and for those that don’t know that but do have access to Google, it takes less than five seconds to find out the religious beliefs of an MP. 

Perhaps most tellingly, however, why is it that we should be alert to – read wary of – MPs religious beliefs? Do the non-religious not have beliefs of which we should be cognizant? If my MP is motivated by a philosophy of relentless, Peter Singer-like utilitarianism or vague, incoherent secular humanism I’d like to know. 

In truth, Rantzen’s intervention in this debate, like that of a number of others – Lord Falconer, Simon Jenkins, Humanists UK, etc. – is part of a recent and rather dispiriting attempt to de facto exclude religious contribution to public debates by accusing them of being dishonest. 

To be clear, secular voices have long tried to exclude religious ones, but the tactics change. Back in the New Atheist heyday of the early twenty first century, all you needed to do was splutter something about sky fairies or Bronze Age beliefs or mind viruses to close down any sort of religious intervention. If, as Richard Dawkins famously put it, faith was one of the world’s great evils, comparable to the smallpox virus only harder to eradicate, no sensible parliament could possibly want to heed what faith had to say. 

Even back then, however, there were subtler arguments against faith, which usually came in the form of semi-digested Rawslian political liberalism, and demanded the religious participation in public debate had to obey the strictures of “public reasoning”, using logic and language that “all reasonable people” will understand. 

There are quite a few holes in this particular away of thinking (who are “reasonable people” anyway?) but as a rule of thumb, it’s not a bad one to follow. It is quite right and proper, if only as a matter of pragmatism, to speak in terms that your opponents will get, just as it is right and proper, as a matter of courtesy, to be open about what ultimately motivates you. 

And so that is what religious figures – MPs, leaders, institutions – do. Having read through pretty much all their contributions to the assisted dying debate, in parliament and beyond, I can testify that not many people, on either side of the debate, quote scripture or invoke papal teaching as a way of persuading, let alone commanding, others. (As it happens, parliamentarians haven’t really done that since the 1650s, but that’s another story).  

Rather, they argue in terms of policy and principles. They talk about the risk of legislative slippage, of changing attitudes to the vulnerable, of the need for better palliative care, of existing pressures on the NHS, etc. This is quite right and proper. As James Cleverly remarked in the Common debate in November, “We are speaking about the specifics of this Bill: this is not a general debate or a theoretical discussion, but about the specifics of the Bill”. And so that is what they did. 

Does anyone seriously think it is a good idea to compel a believing Jew to stand up in parliament and declare her faith before she were allowed to speak? 

In effect, religious public figures, whether or not their beliefs are “declared”, do what they have (rightly) been asked to do by those who have appointed themselves as gatekeepers for our public debate. And so this has forced the usual suspects to pivot in their argument. No longer able to dismiss religious contributions for what they say (“don’t quote the Bible at me!”) they are now compelled to dismiss them for what they don’t say. Hence, the trope that has become popular among such campaigners – “you are not being honest about your real motivations”. 

A new report from the think tank Theos, entitled, How much have your religious views influenced your decision?”: religion and the assisted dying debate, unpacks the various objections that have been levelled at the religious contribution to the debate, and then systematically dismantles them.

Some of these objections are old school in the extreme.  

Religious belief is too intellectually inadequate or disfiguring for debates of this nature. 

Religion is insufficiently willing to adapt and compromise for politics.  

Faith is ill-fitted or even inadmissible in a secular polity or culture.  

But the report majors on the newer objection, so clearly displayed by Esther Rantzen, what we might call “dishonesty” objection, that religious contributors are fundamentally dishonest about their motivations and objectives. 

In truth, this is no stronger than the more tried and tested objections, and it displays a serious, possibly intentional, misunderstanding of what a religious argument actually is. To quote the political philosopher Jeremy Waldron, such secular campaigners “present it as a crude prescription from God, backed up with threat of hellfire, derived from general or particular revelation, and they contrast it with the elegant simplicity of a philosophical argument by Rawls (say) or Dworkin [and] with this image in mind, they think it obvious that religious argument should be excluded from public life.” 

Contemporary arguments against religion in public life are slightly more sophisticated than Waldron’s caricature here, but not much. The idea that religio should be “declared” as a competing interest, so as to stop religious participants in debate from being “dishonest” is every bit as sinister, against both the letter and the spirit of plural, liberal democracy. Does anyone seriously think it is a good idea to compel a believing Jew to stand up in parliament and declare her faith before she were allowed to speak?  

As the assisted dying debate returns to parliament for the final push, there will be much animated debate. That is quite right and proper. A democracy needs vigorous and honest argument. But part of that honesty involves opening the doors of debate to everyone, and not subtly trying to exclude those with whom you disagree on the spurious grounds that they are being dishonest.

Support Seen & Unseen

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,000 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.

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Editor-in-Chief