Britain cannot become a country that nudges its most fragile towards the grave
When it comes to life or death, Keir Starmer can’t make up his mind. Yes, on one of the most significant ethical questions MPs will face in this Parliament, our Prime Minister prefers to sit on the fence. This is not a jab at undecided voters grappling with this complex and highly personal issue. But it is a reminder that questions of this nature should rise above polling or party agendas. Some matters demand moral courage, not mere political calculation. This is one of them. This is a matter of conscience.
Reasonable people will disagree on assisted suicide. Those who back the Assisted Dying Bill often do so from a place of compassion and empathy, believing that individuals should have the right to choose how and when they die, especially in cases of unbearable, chronic illness.
Some support the Bill because they cannot bear to see loved ones suffer. They argue that autonomy over one’s end-of-life decisions is a final, fundamental right. Then there are those who, quietly but unmistakably, see a utilitarian benefit in the Bill, hinting that assisted dying could relieve the burden on our overstretched healthcare system, especially with an ageing population.
But having reviewed the Bill myself, I will be voting against it. In 2015, I also voted against assisted suicide, and little has changed since. The risk of abuse remains, and the legislation presents a clear step down a slippery slope toward what, in my view, could eventually become institutionalised, state-sanctioned death.
First, let’s look at the safeguards – such as they are. The Bill requires that two independent doctors sign off on the decision to end someone’s life. A judge must then give final approval after reviewing evidence from a doctor and, in some cases, from the individual themselves.
This sounds thorough, but it barely differs from the 2015 proposal Parliament rejected. A process that takes only seven days is hardly a meaningful safeguard when we are talking about irreversible decisions. Coupled with the real risk that, in the inevitable legal challenge that will follow its enactment, the Act will likely be broadened in scope by the European Court of Human Rights by virtue of its expansive interpretation of non-discrimination laws, this law would really mean letting the genie out of the bottle.
The Bill also claims to prevent anyone from coercing another person into assisted suicide by requiring proof of “dishonesty, coercion, or pressure” to prosecute an offence. This wording might look strong on paper, but in practice, it will be exceedingly difficult to enforce.
The burden of proof is high: courts would need evidence beyond a reasonable doubt, not merely a balance of probabilities, to show that coercion caused the person to request assisted suicide. Imagine the subtle pressures that could influence a decision. A patient may feel obliged to end their life after witnessing their family’s struggles to care for them. They might feel, however subtly, that they’ve become a burden. How would a jury discern between a caring doctor discussing options and a doctor who subtly nudges a patient toward assisted suicide?
This isn’t theoretical. Consider countries like Canada, where broad interpretations of assisted suicide legislation have led to cases in which people with treatable conditions have been offered euthanasia, rather than care. In the absence of adequate safeguards, we are leaving our most vulnerable open to coercion, even if it may be unintentional. As the campaign group Our Duty of Care has pointed out, no law can perfectly safeguard against all forms of pressure that might lead someone to choose death.
Then, there’s the troubling shift in our values that this legislation represents. This Bill would give the state a formal role in deciding who lives and who dies. Involving the apparatus of the state in such intimate, human experiences is a line we should not cross. This is not just a question of individual rights; it is a question of how we value human life.
The introduction of assisted suicide would fundamentally alter our society’s commitment to protecting the vulnerable and, in doing so, risks opening the door to outcomes that are deeply concerning.
We stand at a moral crossroads. Keir Starmer may be undecided, but the time for decision is upon us all. And for those of us who still believe in a society that protects its weakest and most vulnerable, the answer is clear. The Assisted Dying Bill is a step too far. We must be there to comfort and protect, not to judge that life has outlived its worth. Let us not sanction a society that, however unintentionally, nudges its most fragile toward the grave.