Contribution
There is no issue of conscience more capable of dividing constituents, families or, indeed, this House, than that of assisted dying. We can all agree that no one wants to suffer unnecessarily at the end of their life, and that no one wants to witness their loved ones suffering. We are all here in this place doing what we believe is best to achieve that end.
This debate means that the subject of death as a process is again out of the shadows, where we as a society have thrust it over many years. We have been unwilling to confront our own mortality, avoiding difficult discussions even with our own families until reality finally hits us, as it does—we just do not know how. It is a truth that the death of a loved one, and our own inevitable decline, can sometimes arrive with real fear, real pain and, sadly, too much unnecessary and unsupported suffering, but it does come to us all. It would be wiser for us to be ready to face it, to prepare for it and to be able to live with it as individuals, as families and as a society.
For those of us here today as lawmakers, the reality is that a change can happen in all our lives—whether a bolt from the blue, an accident, an incident, a tragedy, a violent attack, a diagnosis or simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time—that can mean life changes in an instant. Who you are, what you are capable of and what your life is now and onwards comes into focus.
My dad’s life and that of my family changed in an instant. He was attacked at work. Punches were thrown and he fell and hit his head on the kerb. He was saved by a passing man on his lunch break with first aid training. I was 11. Dad did not recognise us for several months. The financial impact was that we eventually lost our home, our family business and the surety that his hard work had given us.
Disablement can begin at birth, it can be acquired or it can come with a health condition—all determining what happens next. Yet we are legislating potentially to fundamentally change every person’s relationship with the state, their doctor and the NHS, depending on their health, their preparedness for what is next and the support they may or may not have.
Over the past two years, I have listened carefully to my colleagues from all parts of the House who have made personal arguments for and against. I have read the many briefings sent to me by charities, organisations, groups and representatives from right across our society. I have heard, too, from 1,000 or so of my constituents, who I thank deeply for sharing their own stories and thoughts. I have reflected back on my own experience, and that of my father, friends and loved ones, as one does when one witnesses an accident or incident, a health condition or, eventually, the death of a loved one. We know that many people are fighting for—and come to this place to fight for—better lives, better treatment, updated drugs, better knowledge and empathy. They often live longer, and push to live longer, than the initial prognosis they have been given.
My father lived a longer life than my mum, who became his main carer. She had previously worked with disabled young adults, helping them into work and helping them to thrive. As someone who previously had the honour of being the Minister for Disabled People, Health and Work, I roundly appreciate that some of our most vulnerable often feel under-acknowledged, undervalued, unheard and screened out of life and work in wider society. In that role, I had to learn not base policymaking on my own thoughts and my own family experiences, but to put good lawmaking at the heart of what I did. People must not feel pressured, worthless or subject to coercion, defined solely by what they cannot do.
My dad too often felt worthless. Long term, he felt less of a man, no longer a provider or a business owner. He went back to his farming roots, but a head and neck injury meant that that was not sustainable. An unseen disability saw him succumb to early onset dementia, with trauma-induced epilepsy and diabetes. He far too often felt he was worth more to us dead than alive. That was long before social media and the additional pressure that that entails.
I therefore believe, sadly, that this process is completely wrong. It is wrong to use the vehicle of this Bill to bring forward such societal consequence and change—changing the relationship between patient and doctor, and individual and state, and changing significantly the connection we all have with the NHS.