Contribution
My Lords, there are passionately held views on the subject before us, and the informed and respectful deliberation so far shows your Lordships’ House at its best. We are being asked to legislate for autonomy, but we also have a duty to set out that principle within the reality of our unequal society. I am deeply concerned that the Bill as it stands would not only ignore but deepen those inequalities.
My views are shaped in part from learning about my mother’s work as a counsellor in a palliative care unit and the hours I spent at the bedside of three of my grandparents as they neared the end, including as they took their last breaths. While I am one of the younger Members of this place, and I hope I have at least another 50 years ahead of me, I have thought about the end of my life. Ideally, I would like to die naturally at home, with, if needed, access to the high-quality palliative care that everyone deserves.
While I would not want an assisted death, I recognise that some noble Lords do, as expressed during this debate. We are fortunate: as noble Lords, we have a voice, above-average resources, and agency—the ability to make our own choices, free from interference, prejudice, coercion or undue influence. But assisted dying, if introduced, would exist as a choice not only for us and other comparatively fortunate people; it would enter the lives of those most at risk—people already overlooked, unprotected and vulnerable at the end of life.
It was a privilege to be a Member of Parliament for almost a decade, and I have so many fond memories of my former constituents. But some of the most searing moments I experienced as a Member of the other place came at my weekly surgeries. The first time I heard someone speak openly, in the most unsavoury terms, about wanting a family member dead, I shook. I was appalled, and I could not believe what I was hearing. I was naive to think that this would be an isolated case. I have also not forgotten the words and realities of too many former constituents: people isolated and abused in their own homes, sometimes for decades, in fear for their own lives; people who felt like a burden because of long-term illness or serious mental health conditions, especially the elderly; and people treated as though their lives were worth less because they had a disability. Many were from low-income backgrounds, facing not only poor health but the crushing stress of unaffordable care costs.
These voices still ring in my ears and motivate me profoundly as I consider this Bill, alongside the many powerful representations we have heard in recent weeks, including, as we have heard from other Members, that there is no organisation of or for disabled people in this country that supports the Bill. In considering who the Bill might benefit by giving them more autonomy, we must equally consider who it may harm by taking their autonomy away.
We have a duty in this House to test the Bill’s safeguards when they meet reality, and I think we must also consider the role of family members and carers. The Bill does not require their involvement. It does not even guarantee they will be informed. Yet these are exactly the people who know a patient best, and who may spot signs of coercion, confusion or fear that professionals might miss. Their exclusion is not just a procedural oversight; it is a moral failing.
In conclusion, if the Bill passes, the relationship between vulnerable people and their doctors and the state would change for ever. There would be no going back. This Bill touches the deepest and most exposed moments of human life. It demands our utmost scrutiny, not just in principle but in practice—and, in practice, it currently falls short. We cannot legislate for irreversible decisions on the basis of incomplete protections. We have important work to do.