Article
Assisted dying
Care
Comment
Politics
6 min read

Assisted dying’s problems are unsolvable

There’s hollow rhetoric on keeping people safe from coercion.

Jamie Gillies is a commentator on politics and culture.

Members of a parliamentary committee sit at a curving table, in front of which a video screen shows other participants.
A parliamentary committee scrutinises the bill.
Parliament TV.

One in five people given six months to live by an NHS doctor are still alive three years later, data from the Department of Work and Pensions shows. This is good news for these individuals, and bad news for ‘assisted dying’ campaigners. Two ‘assisted dying’ Bills are being considered by UK Parliamentarians at present, one at Westminster and the other at the Scottish Parliament. And both rely on accurate prognosis as a ‘safeguard’ - they seek to cover people with terminal illnesses who are not expected to recover. 

An obvious problem with this approach is the fact, evidenced above, that doctors cannot be sure how a patient’s condition is going to develop. Doctors try their best to gauge how much time a person has left, but they often get prognosis wrong. People can go on to live months and even years longer than estimated. They can even make a complete recovery. This happened to a man I knew who was diagnosed with terminal cancer and told he had six months left but went on to live a further twelve years. Prognosis is far from an exact science. 

All of this raises the disturbing thought that if the UK ‘assisted dying’ Bills become law, people will inevitably end their lives due to well-meaning but incorrect advice from doctors. Patients who believe their condition is going to deteriorate rapidly — that they may soon face very difficult experiences — will choose suicide with the help of a doctor, when in fact they would have gone on to a very different season of life. Perhaps years of invaluable time with loved ones, new births and marriages in their families, and restored relationships. 

Accurate prognosis is far from the only problem inherent to ‘assisted dying’, however, as critics of this practice made clear at the – now concluded – oral evidence sessions held by committees scrutinising UK Bills. Proponents of Kim Leadbeater’s Terminally Ill Adults (End of Life) Bill and Liam McArthur’s Assisted Dying for Terminally Ill Adults (Scotland) Bill have claimed that their proposals will usher in ‘safe’ laws, but statements by experts show this rhetoric to be hollow. These Bills, like others before them, are beset by unsolvable problems. 

Coercion 

Take, for example, the issue of coercion. People who understand coercive control know that it is an insidious crime that’s hard to detect. Consequently, there are few prosecutions. Doctors are not trained to identify foul play and even if they were, these busy professionals with dozens if not hundreds of patients could hardly be counted on to spot every case. People would fall through the cracks. The CEO of Hourglass, a charity that works to prevent the abuse of older people, told MPs on the committee overseeing Kim Leadbeater’s Bill that "coercion is underplayed significantly" in cases, and stressed that it takes place behind closed doors. 

There is also nothing in either UK Bill that would rule out people acting on internal pressure to opt for assisted death. In evidence to the Scottish Parliament’s Health, Social Care and Sport Committee last month, Dr Gordon MacDonald, CEO of Care Not Killing, said: “You also have to consider the autonomy of other people who might feel pressured into assisted dying or feel burdensome. Having the option available would add to that burden and pressure.” 

What legal clause could possibly remove this threat? Some people would feel an obligation to ‘make way’ in order to avoid inheritance money being spent on personal care. Some would die due to the emotional strain they feel they are putting on their loved ones. Should our society really legislate for this situation? As campaigners have noted, it is likely that a ‘right to die’ will be seen as a ‘duty to die’ by some. Paving the way for this would surely be a moral failure. 

Inequality 

Even parliamentarians who support assisted suicide in principle ought to recognise that people will not approach the option of an ‘assisted death’ on an equal footing. This is another unsolvable problem. A middle-class citizen who has a strong family support network and enough savings to pay for care may view assisted death as needless, or a ‘last resort’. A person grappling with poverty, social isolation, and insufficient healthcare or disability support would approach it very differently. This person’s ‘choice’ would be by a dearth of support. 

As Disability Studies Scholar Dr Miro Griffiths told the Scottish Parliament committee last month, “many communities facing injustice will be presented with this as a choice, but it will seem like a path they have to go down due to the inequalities they face”. Assisted suicide will compound existing disparities in the worst way: people will remove themselves from society after losing hope that society will remove the inequalities they face. 

Politicians should also assess the claim that assisted deaths are “compassionate”. The rhetoric of campaigners vying for a change in the law have led many to believe that it is a “good death” — a “gentle goodnight”, compared to the agony of a prolonged natural death from terminal illness. However, senior palliative medics underline the fact that assisted deaths are accompanied by distressing complications. They can also take wildly different amounts of time: one hour; several hours; even days. Many people would not consider a prolonged death by drug overdose as anguished family members watch on to be compassionate. 

Suicide prevention 

 It is very important to consider the moral danger involved with changing our societal approach to suicide. Assisted suicide violates the fundamental principle behind suicide prevention — that every life is inherently valuable, equal in value, and deserving of protection. It creates a two-tier society where some lives are seen as not worth living, and the value of human life is seen as merely extrinsic and conditional. This approach offers a much lower view of human dignity than the one we have ascribed to historically, which has benefited our society so much.  

Professor Allan House, a psychiatrist who appeared before the Westminster Committee that’s considering Kim Leadbeater’s Bill, described the danger of taking this step well: “We’d have to change our national suicide prevention strategy, because at the moment it includes identifying suicidal thoughts in people with severe physical illness as something that merits intervention – and that intervention is not an intervention to help people proceed to suicide.” 

 Professor House expressed concern that this would “change both the medical and societal approach to suicide prevention in general”, adding: “There is no evidence that introducing this sort of legislation reduces what we might call ‘unassisted suicide’.” He also noted that in the last ten years in the State of Oregon – a jurisdiction often held up as a model by ‘assisted dying’ campaigners – “the number of people going through the assisted dying programme has gone up five hundred percent, and the number of suicides have gone up twenty per cent”. 

The evidence of various experts demonstrates that problems associated with assisted suicide are unsolvable. And this practice does not provide a true recognition of human dignity. Instead of changing the law, UK politicians must double down on existing, life-affirming responses to the suffering that accompanies serious illness. The progress we have made in areas like palliative medicine, and the talent and technology available to us in 2025, makes another path forwards available to leaders if they choose to take it. I pray they will. 

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Article
Comment
Ethics
Politics
War & peace
5 min read

We must invest in defence, fast - it’s the only moral thing to do

The responsible use of force today precludes pacifism

Emerson Csorba works in deep tech, following experience in geopolitics and energy.

Amid a bombed alley, a victim is helped to walk by a rescue worker
Aftermath of a Russian drone attack, Odesa, Ukraine.
Dsns.gov.ua, CC BY 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

In May 2016, I was hiking the Southwest Coast Path in a group, trudging through dense forest between Lyme Regis and Weymouth, when a distinctly unsettling event occurred. As we moved along a narrow trail, a buzzing sound began—we assumed we had disturbed a bee’s nest. We quickened my pace, but the buzzing continued. Eventually, we emerged from the woods and looked up. The sound had not come from bees, but from a drone that had been following us.

I will never forget that sound; the eerie sense of something pursuing you, but unseen. In a recent BBC special on the war in Ukraine, a journalist documents the now-pervasive use of drones, the journalist and Ukrainian soldiers hiding under the cover of forest as a Russian drone scans the area, before escaping to their car in which an AI voice says ‘Detection: multiple drones, multiple pilots, high signal strength’ as they journey overground. This is the new era of covert warfare, where the enemy strikes without being easily identified. You hear the hum, but the source is elusive.

In the coming years, this kind of psychological warfare will make its way into Western cities. Terrorist attacks will shift from in-person confrontations—like the Novichok poisonings in Salisbury—towards remote, anonymous assaults: drones drifting from overseas into coastal cities to target civilians, or swarms carrying out mass attacks in dense downtown cores. The aim will be psychological trauma at scale. Civilians will grow hesitant to leave home, hyper-sensitive to the buzz of anonymous drones in their own areas. Iran recently declared that no US, British, or French base is safe from retaliation in the emerging Israel–Iran war. It is not difficult to imagine Western cities soon being viewed as legitimate targets.

We are entering a time of intensified conflict, with national security becoming the dominant framework for policymaking. The watchword of UK government policy is ‘security,’ and—writing now from Montréal—the recent Canadian election was framed around which party and leader could best protect Canadians from external threat. In this context, even domains once governed by cooperation are transformed into zero-sum contests, because national security framing by its nature shifts focus from reciprocity to limitation of the other. 

Free trade, for example - fundamentally the mutually beneficial exchange of goods and services as part of the creation of value - becomes, in a security-focused world, a question of containment. Trade, in a security-focused world, is turned on its head, free trade becoming trade wars. Fairness (in which the pie is grown and shared across multiple people) is replaced by interest, whether the interest of countries or communities and individuals within them seeking to protect themselves. As US–China competition escalates, we can expect human relations—among both states and citizens—to become even more zero-sum. 

In such an environment, do morals still matter? When the enemy grows more ruthless and more innovative in an era of national security, must we match them in kind? Or is it still possible to uphold principles while defending ourselves?

Restraint and humility are still critical virtues—but must not be mistaken for weakness.

In a recent Times column, Juliet Samuel suggested that gestures of non-aggression—such as Finland’s 2015 destruction of its one million landmine stockpile—now appear dangerously naïve. Ukraine, for its part, has rightly disregarded the Ottawa and Oslo (banning cluster munitions) conventions. Its survival depends on ingenuity, rapid technological development (for instance through the work of funds such as D3), and collaboration with its allies to prototype and deploy advanced systems.

Reinhold Niebuhr, in Moral Man and Immoral Society, contends that to be moral, one must possess the capacity for force—‘power must be challenged by power.’ That power, however, must be exercised with responsibility, humility, and moral purpose. Nigel Biggar, my former doctoral supervisor and a key figure in the Niebuhr tradition of Christian realism, argues in In Defence of War that war can be justified on balance when it meets the criteria of jus ad bellum: just cause, legitimate authority, right intention, proportionality, and reasonable prospect of success. 

War, in this reading, can express a ‘kind harshness’—a form of judgment exercised in defence of victims. Like Niebuhr, Biggar grounds his argument in Augustinian realism: the world is fundamentally good, yet broken. Because evil persists, the moral use of force becomes necessary to uphold what is right. I believe this to be true, and directly applicable to the national security-focused world in which we find ourselves. 

What does this mean then for Western countries as national security reasserts itself as the central organising principle of governance?

It means significant and urgent investment in defence and deep technology, including for instance emerging capabilities like cognitive warfare and neuroadaptive systems (wearables that enhance soldiers’ performance in live combat), counter-drone systems for urban, rural, and maritime environments, and next-generation electronic warfare and geospatial intelligence.

If drone attacks intensify at sea—such as those carried out by the Houthis to disrupt global shipping routes—counter-drone systems will be vital to ensure safe passage. In a world of manipulated narratives and disinformation, geospatial intelligence will serve as a source of truth, helping establish what is actually happening on the ground. And as agentic AI grows increasingly capable of manipulating users—through sycophancy, persuasion, and other techniques—oversight technologies like Yoshua Bengio’s new LawZero project will be essential for maintaining objectivity and integrity.

The responsible use of force today precludes pacifism, averting violence altogether. It means maintaining—and advancing—the capability for overwhelming force, so it is ready if needed. Morality in an era of national security demands investment in defence technologies at speed, to stay several steps ahead of adversaries. A ‘whole-of-society’ approach, as recommended in the recent UK Strategic Defence Review, means preparing citizens with such a mindset. Restraint and humility are still critical virtues—but must not be mistaken for weakness. Western nations must be prepared to act swiftly, decisively, and with the deterrent power that peace requires.

This is the world we are entering: one in which governments and civilians alike must be ready for unexpected threats. The hum of a drone overhead is more than a sound—it is instead a warning, reminding not only Ukrainians but those currently in peaceful situations, to prepare ourselves for potential conflicts to come. The appropriate response is not retreat, but the responsible and moral exercise of power: a necessary duty if we are to preserve peace, freedom, and justice in a world increasingly intent on contesting them.

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