Contribution
I will get to the end of my speech.
That is the medical stage, and I will jump straight to the judicial stage. The medical practitioners sign it off, and then the judge has to confirm all the same tests. Of course, many eminent judges have made the point that it will overwhelm the family courts if the test were applied properly, but it will not be applied properly, because the Bill assumes that judges will fulfil a new inquisitorial role and actually look into cases as investigators, which is entirely unknown in English common law. But the Bill will not require any actual investigation.
There is no requirement for a judge even to meet the applicant. They simply have to have a phone call, or maybe it will be an email, from one of the medics. That is it. That is the inquiry. On that basis, the judge must decide whether it is more likely than not that there has been external pressure. After the judge approves it—they are required to approve it, unless they can find evidence of external coercion—we go to “the final act”, as the Bill says, where a junior colleague, as a medical practitioner, oversees your death by pills or lethal injection.
And here is the last thing that the Bill does or does not do. There is no requirement at any stage of the process—at either the medical or the judicial stage—for anyone to tell the patient’s next of kin, their wider family or even their GP that the NHS and the judicial system are working in secret to bring about the death of their loved one, maybe their father or their daughter. I say again that these are not the cases that the Bill was designed for, but they are directly in scope, and it is going to take more than a tweak in Committee to get them out.
Is this what is meant by having choice at the end of life? Let us talk about choice. I am often accused of wanting to impose my view on others—that point was made earlier. People say, “If you don’t approve of assisted death, don’t have one, but don’t deprive me of the choice.” In fact, the evidence is that, with this new option and the comparative loss of investment and innovation in palliative care, real choice will narrow. There is a broader point to make about choice, which is that no man or woman is an island. Just as every person’s death, even a good death, diminishes us all, so we will all be involved and affected if we make this change.
The Bill will not just create a new option for a few and leave everyone else unaffected; it will impose this new reality on every person towards the end of their life, on everyone who could be thought to be near death, and on their families—the option of assisted suicide, the obligation to have a conversation around the bedside or whispered in the corridor, “Is it time?” It will change life and death for everyone.
I am very aware of the terrible plight of the people who are begging us for this new law. I think we can do better for them than they fear, but we also need to think in real human terms about what the effect will be on the choices of other people, and I do not mean the people who are used to getting their way. I am talking about the people who lack agency, the people who know what it is to be excluded from power and to have decisions made for them by bigwigs in distant offices who speak a language they do not understand—the sort of people who the hon. Member for Spen Valley and I both know from our previous charity work, and who we all know from our constituency work. They are not the people who write to us campaigning for a change in the law, but the people who come to our surgeries with their lives in tatters, or who the police or social workers tell us about—the people with complex needs. What are the safeguards for them?
Let me tell the House: we are the safeguard—this place; this Parliament; you and me. We are the people who protect the most vulnerable in society from harm, yet we stand on the brink of abandoning that role. The Rubicon was a very small stream, but on the other side lies a very different world—a worse world, with a very different idea of human value. The idea that our individual worth lies in our utility, valuable only for so long as we are useful—not a burden, not a cost, not making a mess. Let us not be the Parliament that authorises that idea.
I mentioned at the start of my speech the voices of those we cannot hear: the frail and elderly and the disabled. As we are surrounded by such a cloud of witnesses, let us do better than this Bill. Let today be not a vote for despair, but the start of a proper debate about dying well, in which we have a better idea than a state suicide service. Let us have a debate in which we remember that we have intrinsic value; that real choice and autonomy means having access to the best care possible and the fullest control over what happens to us while we live; and that true dignity consists in being cared for to the end.