Column
Assisted dying
Comment
4 min read

Polly's pop at a "pitiless God" distorts my argument

There’s more than one argument for opposing assisted dying.

George is a visiting fellow at the London School of Economics and an Anglican priest.

A hand rest gently on another outstretched hand.
Alexander Grey on Unsplash.

I hesitate to have a pop at the venerable Guardian columnist Polly Toynbee, partly because I like and admire her work. And partly, in this new media environment in which my enemy’s friend is my troll, I fear aligning myself with foam-flecked righties who use words like “Guardianista” and “wokerati”. 

But she wrote a column late last week about assisted suicide that was just plain wrong. And, actually, I think she’s being profoundly illiberal on the subject, for reasons I’ll explain in a moment. 

Assisted suicide – voluntary euthanasia, assisted dying, call it what you will – was a hobby horse of mine some 15 years ago when I wrote a book against it. Slightly more recently, Toynbee and I were on a broadcast interview together on an entirely unrelated subject when, to the bemusement of the presenter, she suddenly raised assisted dying to have a go at me. It was quite flattering. 

Anyway, last week’s Toynbee column was of a kind, dismissing the anti-euthanasia case as the province of religious nutcases (presumably like me). Consider this massive straw man of a sentence: “Only God can decide how long we should suffer before death comes at a time of his pitiless whim, they say.” 

I’m used to this, though not from Toynbee. Debating assisted suicide, it’s only a matter of minutes before someone will say that I shouldn’t impose my “sanctity of life” beliefs on other people. Eh? I’ve never used that phrase in this context (whatever it may mean). In fact, my views on assisted suicide are entirely secular, though informed by a faith that respects the primacy of compassion for and defence of the most vulnerable in our society. 

I believe that a jurisdiction that enshrines in its legislature the principle that some lives are more worth living than others takes us into very dangerous moral territory. Related to that, a two-tier structure for the value of human life in the medical professions is abhorrent. That’s why I say that to despatch the weakest and most vulnerable among us is unacceptably illiberal. 

The terminally ill, the disabled, the profoundly depressed and the aged and vulnerable really shouldn’t be treated as a nuisance to be helped on their way.

A bill will come back to parliament to change the law to allow assisted suicide this autumn. With new PM Keir Starmer in favour and a very different configuration of the House of Commons post-election, its chances of passing are said to be high. 

But even Lord Falconer, the parliamentary poster-boy for assisted suicide, who convened a ludicrous “independent” commission in 2012 stuffed with euthanasia enthusiasts and useful idiots, has accepted that no so-called safeguards can entirely ensure that no lives will be lost to malfeasance or malpractice. 

So, my question to Falconer and Toynbee is this: How many unnecessary lives lost to assisted suicide is enough to have what you want? 100? 50? One? Another number? 

It’s commonplace for deeply distressing accounts of agonising deaths to be rehearsed in support of assisted suicide. Toynbee did so last week. But as Falconer must (or should) know, hard cases make bad law. The only focus here should be on how best to ensure that no one need die a bad death. 

For Falconer and his supporters the solution is to legislate so that terminally ill patients can be helped to kill themselves. But speaking to end-of-life medical professionals, such as Baroness Finlay of Llandaff, many of whom claim that advances now mean that bad deaths are vanishingly few, it’s clear that the UK’s world-leading palliative care has in sight the day when no one need die a bad death. 

That’s no comfort to someone who is suffering at the end of their life right now. But assisted suicide puts that palliative care target in jeopardy, when it makes death a form of medical treatment. Look at the record – the Netherlands now allows assisted suicide for those who are simply “tired of life”. That’s not where end-of-life care should go. 

The burden of proof under the Suicide Act (1961) lies with the defendant, who currently faces a maximum jail sentence of 14 years for assisting or encouraging a suicide.  Those who have demonstrated that they have acted with compassion and consent have in turn been treated with compassion and leniency in the application of the law. Invert that burden of proof, with the Crown needing to prove that an unscrupulous relative or friend coerced a victim into suicide, and we’re into a fresh hell of moral jeopardy. 

The law works as it stands. The terminally ill, the disabled, the profoundly depressed and the aged and vulnerable really shouldn’t be treated as a nuisance to be helped on their way. Again, as we might expect Toynbee to know, that is wholly illiberal. 

It looks like the assisted suicide lobby will get what they want this year. It will be hailed as a great liberal social reform. Doubtless they will find it in their hearts to forgive me if I continue to demur.

Article
Comment
Freedom of Belief
5 min read

These stubborn stories from Nigeria’s killing fields are still lodged in my head

Last year’s victims are joined by many more

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen and co-host of its Re-enchanting podcast.

A burnt out motor cycle and car stand amid charred debris in a dusty compound.
Burned vehicles after Good Friday raid on April 7, 2023, in Ngban, Benue state, Nigeria.
Justice, Development, and Peace Commission.

Last summer, I spent some time in Northern Nigeria.  

I went there because terror is having its way and nobody seems to be talking about it. I said it last year, and it still seems to be the case now - the violence that is being carried inflicted is out of sight and, therefore, tragically out of mind. 

While there, I met many people that had their lives violently turned upside down - their families torn apart, their villages burnt to the ground, their homes and livelihoods pulled out from underneath them, their loved ones ‘butchered’ before their eyes. The people I met were targeted, it seems, largely because of their Christian identities.  

I wrote about them for Seen and Unseen this time last year, feeling the pull to memorialise their stories; to point toward them, to look their tragedy in the eye for a little longer. 

Every person that I met has had a lasting impact on me, how could they not? Before I met them, the only reference point I had for such violence was apocalyptic movies. A year on, my brain still resists accepting what my ears have heard and my eyes have seen. I dwell on it all, the whole experience, often.  

But there are two stories that have gotten stubbornly lodged in my mind, taking up slightly more real-estate in my thoughts. They’re the stories of two girls, one around my own age and one much younger. I’d like to re-point you to their stories now.  

The first woman, she was incredibly gentle and kind, and told her story with a composure that’s hard to fathom. She was working on her land along with her husband and mother-in-law, a totally run-of-the-mill day. They were so engrossed with the task at hand, they didn’t notice that their village was being attacked by armed ‘Fulani’ militants (the majority of the violence being carried out in Northern Nigeria is at the hands of Islamic extremist groups such as Fulani militants, Boko Haram and ISWAP - Islamic State in West African Province). She looked up to find herself face-to-face with two attackers and despite their command for her to surrender to them, she ran, as did her husband and mother-in-law. While she was running, she could hear bullets flying past her head and the screams of her mother-in-law. Making it to a neighbouring village, she gathered help and eventually went back to find her husband and mother-in-law. Both of whom were stabbed and killed that day.   

The Fulani militants now have control over her village, and she told us how she’s been praying that she would be able to forgive these men for what they’d done, as she is now forced to live alongside them. And so, she felt proud because she had recently been able to respond to one of the men as they greeted her.     

The other story, that of a heart-wrenchingly-young girl told us how, while she sleeping – she was awoken by her father who told her that they needed to run, they were under attack. She ran, hand in hand with her father, while her mother carried her younger brother. While they were fleeing, her dad was shot and killed. Her mother pried her hand out of her father’s and buried both her and her brother in sand, instructing them to stay hidden. The next day, they found that their house, their crops, their entire village had been burnt down.   

This rampant violence is not caught in a freeze-frame, it’s not last year’s story, it is still happening. Despite Nigeria having greater religious freedoms than other countries, it is still the seventh most dangerous country in the world for Christians to live, it is still the case that more Christians are killed for their faith in Nigeria than the rest of the world combined.    

2025 has seen wave after wave of attacks, some of which were prompted by outrage over the testimony of Bishop Wilfred Anagbe, who spoke of the horror and terror being inflicted on Christian communities in front of the US Congress. As a result of Bishop Wilfred’s words, his Nigerian diocese was subject to mass shootings, killing forty people. So, people’s voices, their pleas for help - or even simply recognition of the violence - brings a threat to their lives.  

Just weeks later, 24 members of a Methodist church were shot in the middle of the night, days later nine further people were killed while mourning those who had already been shot dead. 

In the month of June alone, 218 Christians were killed, and a further 6,000 were displaced after a spate of attacks carried out on mostly Christian villages. Open Doors note that ‘dozens of Christians are said to be trapped in forests and mountain hideouts, unable to escape as the militants continue to roam through the villages’.  

And in July, Pastor Emmanuel Na’allah, a Christian pastor and convert from Islam, was shot and killed during a worship service. A friend of his, Samaila Gidan Taro, was also shot, and a woman was abducted.   

Again, Open Doors explains that ‘These murders and abductions are sadly increasingly common in Nigeria… large-scale attacks are the most visible. Attacks such as this one occur daily, so frequently that they do not make the headlines. It is clear that Christians are suffering a relentless onslaught, with government agencies, international bodies and official observers struggling to even document each incident.’ 

As I wrote last year, while we are not seeing this violence, the people of Nigeria are not seeing an end to it.    

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