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
Education
1 min read

When universities turn their back on understanding

Axing Nottingham’s single-honours theology degree signals more than a funding issue

Arabella Moore-Smith is studying Religion, Culture and Ethics at the University of Nottingham.

A campus sign spells out Nottingham in large letters
University of Nottingham.

Two weeks ago, the University of Nottingham announced it is to axe its single-honours Undergraduate degree in Theology and Religious Studies. While the joint honours with Philosophy and Religion, Culture and Ethics remain, the fact that Theology is discounted as a subject worth keeping to study in its own right is concerning. In a world that is becoming increasingly more divided, unoptimistic and confusing, the study of Theology provides deep levels of understanding to our world, increasing hope and providing a way forward. I fail to see how the University of Nottingham can remain a respected university without offering the opportunity to study such understanding. 

Studying religion and theology has been central to my personal development. I’ll never forget sitting in a classroom when it felt as if the world was opening up to me. I could understand people’s views on the afterlife halfway across the world, while simultaneously also understanding my classmates, and what they thought of these beliefs. 

GCSE and A-Level Religious Education went on to show me that it is one of the few subjects that illuminates all aspects of humanity. The study of religion and theology covers literature, philosophy, psychology, sociology, history, anthropology…; the list goes on. 

Often Philosophy and Theology are pitted against one another, but during my studies I discovered that the writings of Aristotle and Plato overlap with early Christian thinking, revealing to me that we are far more united in our history and beliefs than we assume. The philosophers’ discursive forms revealed not only something about the divine but also the human; the way that we argue, think, and reason. Thus, theology at its core aims to understand people, while also aiming to understand the divine; and this, I think, requires a level of fearlessness and honesty that other subjects cannot always provide.

This intrigue led me to Nottingham to study theology at degree level, and as I come to the end of my studies I know I will leave with more questions about our world and spirituality than I have answers. In particular, my life at university has provided me with the opportunity to interact with so many different types of people, and so, despite my personal faith, I know that the world shows us so many fractions of the divine in ways that aren’t quite clear. This is the beauty of studying theology; it encourages us to live in the uncomfortable. This is something that I think leads to us wanting to understand one another better.

While the cutting of theology at Nottingham shows a funding problem, this is part of a wider issue; crisis is visible all across our world. Israel-Palestine violence continues; the recent vote to release the Epstein files reveals layers of deceit in multiple leaders, and the recent murder of Charlie Kirk plummeted MAGA into a more extreme Christian nationalism. But the reporting on these kinds of stories, while important, has knock-on effects, especially for young people. 

In July 2025, Unicef reported that Gen Z consume news more than any other type of content, 6 in 10 of our generation reporting to feel overwhelmed. My age group’s over-exposure to the news drives us somewhat towards a desire for change, although this determination can lead to overwhelm. I have certainly felt this myself. But this is exactly where the study of theology can provide a light within deceit and despair. 

The studying of ancient holy texts and religious practices teaches me the nuances of human nature; we are sometimes good, sometimes bad. We also do not always communicate effectively. Mistranslations within texts lead to misunderstandings of the Bible, and for some people who read the Bible literally, their understanding of the Bible is their reality. Yet at the same time, by assuming that there is a God, theology seeks to understand how this indicates our need for a divine being to underpin these misunderstandings. Studying theology encourages higher tolerance levels for others’ beliefs.

While the council at the University of Nottingham may argue that it is continuing its other religion degrees, the removal of single honours theology hints at something deeper than financial issues. It shows a lack of effort to understand the value that religion has on our society today. The Israel-Palestine war, for example, is underpinned by identity and religion, and cannot be understood without sufficient education on Jewish and Palestinian history. The decision that Religious Education will be added into the new national curriculum (ironically announced the day before Nottingham’s announcement of course cuts) is a step in the right direction for the encouragement of religious education in UK schools, but without Russell Group universities like Nottingham providing a Theology degree, I am concerned for the future of religious understanding in our society. 

Let’s save Theology at the University of Nottingham.  Please sign our petition.

Support Seen & Unseen

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,500 articles. All for free. 
This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?

Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief