Always under pressure

Now condemned, the latest incidents of church burning in Pakistan are indicative of a continuing deeper pressure Christian communities face.

Belle Tindall

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen.

A crowd of people inspect fire damaged debris outside a burnt-out church.

The aftermath of a mob attack that burnt-out a church in Jaranwala, Pakistan.

Tearfund.

The pressure is once again rising for the four million Christians living in Pakistan.

Earlier this month a crowd of thousands angrily descended upon the city of Jaranwala in North-Eastern Punjab, an area with a notably high population of Christian residents. The mob set fire to (at least) four churches, burned Bibles in the streets, vandalised a cemetery, and looted numerous homes believed to be owned by Christian families. Social media and news outlets are brimming with videos of these attacks taking place in broad daylight; people can be heard cheering and chanting as churches are set alight, while police officers seemingly stand by and watch the chaos unfold.

These attacks were triggered by allegations that two Christians in Jaranwala had set fire to a Qur’an, thus breaking Pakistan’s strict blasphemy laws and insulting Islam. There is little evidence to suggest that this crime was committed by Christians, only that burnt and vandalised pages of the Qur’an were found scattered near this Christian community. Although the allegations therefore remain heavily disputed, the consequences that the Christian community have suffered have been severe.

Despite this being one of the most destructive incidents in the country’s history, there are thankfully no reports of injuries or fatalities, as it is reported that the Christian residents were forewarned and therefore able to evacuate their homes in time. Nevertheless, the damage done to the community in Jaranwala is profound. Both Christians and Muslims alike have widely and vehemently condemned the violence directed at the Christian community in Pakistan, with Muslim leaders refusing to allow such violence to be carried out in the name of Islam.

The depths of distress

The Right Reverend Azad Marshall, Bishop of a neighbouring city, has responded, stating that the Christian community throughout Pakistan are ‘traumatised’, ‘deeply pained’ and ‘distressed’. Bishop Azas has therefore called for ‘justice and action’ and an assurance that ‘our (Christian) lives are valuable in our own homeland’. Bishop Azad’s words imply that, perhaps unsurprisingly, the pain and devastation caused to the Christian community is multifaceted.

The first layer of distress is the most obvious: the practical implications of these attacks continue to face this community and are a source of ongoing distress. Whole families are sleeping on the streets, their homes no longer safe, surrounded by the rubble of their beloved churches and the ash of their burnt Bibles. In response to the mass destruction, over one hundred men who are thought to have been involved in carrying out and/or inciting the riots have been arrested and detained. What’s more, the Pakistani government have handed out $6,800 as compensation to each Christian household affected, this is reported to be over one hundred Christian families in total.

And yet, the words pouring out from Christians in Pakistan, so often echoing the words of Bishop Azad, speak of another level of pain and distress. This pain is pertaining to the lack of safety and value they experience in their own home as a result of their Christian identity. Such damage is not so easily compensated.

Continual and extreme persecution

Pakistan is a majority Muslim country, with the four million Christians making up just 1.9 per cent of the population. According to the charity Open Doors, which monitors such incidents and who have placed Pakistan in eighth place on their World Watch List, the persecution that Christians face as a minority people group in the country is both continual and extreme. As well as the one-off incidents, such as the deadly attack of a church in 2017, which killed at least nine individuals, Christians in the country are subject to ‘a silent epidemic of kidnappings, forced marriages and forced conversion of Christian girls and women’.

The Prime Minister has attempted to quell the deepest fears being vocalised by Pakistani Christians by vowing that his government will work to ensure their safety as a minority group. However, what is being highlighted in Pakistan is how a Christian identity can place on in the epicentre of political tension. We’re reminded once again that religious persecution can, and does, ensure that people feel unsafe and undervalued, unwelcome in their home countries. What is it like to live under the pressure of political extremists stirring up hatred toward you as a result of your beliefs? What must it feel like to feel such a tension in the country you call home? This is a daily reality for not only the 2 million Christians living in Pakistan, but the 360 million Christians who are living in persecution worldwide.

Article

Care

Comment

Economics

Ethics

2 December 2024

4 min read

NHS: How far do we go to feed the sacred system?

Balancing safeguards and economic expediencies after the assisted dying vote.

Callum Elwood

Callum is a pastor, based on a barge, in London's Docklands.

A patient eye view of six surgeons looking down.

National Cancer Institute via Unsplash.

“Die cheaply, protect the NHS” It sounds extreme, but it could become an unspoken policy. With MPs voting on 29th November to advance the assisted dying bill, Britain stands at a crossroads. Framed as a compassionate choice for the terminally ill, the bill raises profound ethical, societal, and economic concerns. In a nation where the NHS holds near-sacred status, this legislation risks leading us to a grim reality: lives sacrificed to sustain an overstretched healthcare system.

The passage of this legislation demands vigilance. To avoid human lives being sacrificed at the altar of an insatiable healthcare system, we must confront the potential dangers of assisted dying becoming an economic expedient cloaked in compassion.

The NHS has been part of British identity since its founding, offering universal care, free at the point of use. To be clear, this is a good thing—extraordinary levels of medical care are accessible to all, regardless of income. When my wife needed medical intervention while in labour, the NHS ensured we were not left with an unpayable bill.

Yet the NHS is more than a healthcare system; it has become a cultural icon. During the COVID-19 pandemic, it was elevated to near-religious status with weekly clapping, rainbow posters, and public declarations of loyalty. To criticise or call for reform often invites accusations of cruelty or inhumanity. A 2020 Ipsos MORI poll found that 74 per cent of Britons cited the NHS as a source of pride, more than any other institution.

However, the NHS’s demands continue to grow: waiting lists stretch ever longer, staff are overworked and underpaid, and funding is perpetually under strain. Like any idol, it demands sacrifices to sustain its appetite. In this context, the introduction of assisted dying legislation raises troubling questions about how far society might go to feed this sacred system.

Supporters of the Assisted Dying Bill argue that it will remain limited to exceptional cases, governed by strict safeguards. However, international evidence suggests otherwise.

In Belgium, the number of euthanasia cases rose by 267 per cent in less than a decade, with 2,656 cases in 2019 compared to 954 in 2010. Increasingly, these cases involve patients with psychiatric disorders or non-terminal illnesses. Canada has seen similar trends since legalising medical assistance in dying (MAiD) in 2016. By 2021, over 10,000 people had opted for MAiD, with eligibility expanding to include individuals with disabilities, mental health conditions, and even financial hardships.

The argument for safeguards is hardly reassuring, history shows they are often eroded over time. In Belgium and Canada, assisted dying has evolved from a last resort for the terminally ill to an option offered to the vulnerable and struggling. This raises an urgent question: how do we ensure Britain doesn’t follow this trajectory?

The NHS is under immense strain. With limited resources and growing demand, the temptation to frame assisted dying as an economic solution is real. While supporters present the legislation as compassionate, the potential for financial incentives to influence its application cannot be ignored.

Healthcare systems exist to uphold human dignity, not reduce life to an economic equation.

Consider a scenario: you are diagnosed with a complex, long-term, ultimately terminal illness. Option one involves intricate surgery, a lengthy hospital stay, and gruelling physiotherapy. The risks are high, the recovery tough, life not significantly lengthened, and the costs significant. Opting for this could be perceived as selfish—haven’t you heard how overstretched the NHS is? Don’t you care about real emergencies? Option two offers a "dignified" exit: assisted dying. It spares NHS resources and relieves your family of the burden of prolonged care. What starts as a choice may soon feel like an obligation for the vulnerable, elderly, or disabled—those who might already feel they are a financial or emotional burden.

This economic argument is unspoken but undeniable. When a system is stretched to breaking point, compassion risks becoming a convenient cloak for expedience.

The Assisted Dying Bill marks a critical moment for Britain. If passed into law, as now seems inevitable, it could redefine not only how we view healthcare but how we value life itself. To prevent this legislation from becoming a slippery slope, we must remain vigilant against the erosion of safeguards and the pressure of economic incentives.

At the same time, we must reassess our relationship with the NHS. It must no longer occupy a place of unquestioning reverence. Instead, we should view it with a balance of admiration and accountability. Reforming the NHS isn’t about dismantling it but ensuring it serves its true purpose: to protect life, not demand it.

Healthcare systems exist to uphold human dignity, not reduce life to an economic equation. If we continue to treat the NHS as sacred, the costs—moral, spiritual, and human—will become unbearable.

This moment requires courage: the courage to confront economic realities without compromising our moral foundations. As a society, we must advocate for policies that prioritise care, defend the vulnerable, and resist the reduction of life to an equation. Sacrifices will always be necessary in a healthcare system, but they must be sacrifices of commitment to care, not lives surrendered to convenience.

The path forward demands thoughtful reform and a collective reimagining of our values. If we value dignity and compassion, we must ensure that they remain more than rhetoric—they must be the principles that guide our every decision.