By chance, the British House of Commons chose September 11, the twenty-fifth anniversary of the most spectacular modern example of combined murder and suicide, to debate the second reading of the Terminally Ill Adults (End of Life) Bill, which was designed to permit assisted suicide in England and Wales. The bill was defeated by sixteen votes.

Although the bill did not have official government backing, it had enormous tacit support from the UK government and from pressure groups. It failed in large part due to the efforts of concerned politicians, especially in the House of Lords, who used all the means at their disposal to increase public scrutiny and highlight unintended consequences. But there are deeper reasons, I think, behind why this assisted suicide bill, like three others in Parliament this century, failed. Most of them apply to a global question, rather than just in Britain. As a member of the House of Lords who sat in on almost every one of the many days of the debate on the bill, I began to see why it was not going the way its promoters had expected. Their lines of argument, which, before the parliamentary debates, had seemed to carry all before them in the media, came under much more intense scrutiny.

The pro-assisted suicide case advanced on three related themes: choice, modernity, and compassion. Supporters thought the principle of autonomy was what mattered above all. If people had been told that they had only six months to live (the rather shaky qualification for being allowed such a death), and wished to end their lives, why should they be denied this choice? Who had the right to block this literally existential decision? The freedom to commit suicide, which most modern societies have, was being translated into a positive right, promoted, protected and, in many cases, paid for, by the state.

Modernity was invoked to assist this. Everybody else is starting to do it, the supporters said; look at Canada, Australia, the US state of Oregon, Belgium, the Netherlands and, most recently, France. This development was considered appropriate in a world where individuals no longer bow to religious authority or other collective interventions. The resources of the modern state could successfully ensure professional, safe delivery of the necessary services, equally available to the poor and weak as to the rich and strong through the British National Health Service. Two doctors would certify each patient’s suitability for such a death. Other doctors and nurses would have legally prescribed methods of administering the lethal drugs to their willing recipients.

Then there was compassion. Many people came forward to say how, because of their suffering, they longed for their right to be helped to kill themselves. So did some of their families, speaking on their behalf. Examples were given of terrible indignities; opponents were accused of condemning people to life, a life made worthless by pain. Many were criticized for trying to “impose their religious beliefs” on others.

Even the word “suicide” itself was frequently attacked for being cruel. Those who wanted an “assisted death” were described as people who did not see this as killing themselves, but as a better way of living and of dying. The language used seemed to be deliberately designed to deny basic facts about the human condition. It also made rather a muddle of autonomy arguments. But it got some traction because nowadays, for good reasons and for bad, we have become more preoccupied with giving people what they think they want.

Put together, the case for the bill seemed formidable, especially as we live in a culture where people are fearful of defying the spirit of the age. It would not have been surprising if most legislators had decided to go with the flow, leaving a few old and/or declaredly religious people to fight a losing battle. This did not happen. Indeed, I have never previously seen a pro-life movement in Britain act with such coherence, determination, and awareness of modern and media sensibilities.

Opponents of the legislation were able to stitch together a coalition of those who oppose assisted suicide on principle and those who were worried about aspects of the practice. The framing of the bill, which placed the burden for provision of assisted suicide upon state services, opened up a huge range of questions about the people who would provide these services.

What about cost to the taxpayer, conscientious objection by professionals, the careers of doctors and nurses who want nothing to do with the measure? What about the sinister suggestion that people should be guided to assisted dying to save the state money? What about the difficulties of deciding whether someone will die within six months and the problem, very germane in the National Health System (NHS), that waiting lists are much longer than six months? Would suicides have to be fast-tracked and given an NHS “pathway” unavailable to most other ailments?

Then there was the question of the victims or beneficiaries. Since the whole issue is presented as one of choice, it is essential to know that such a choice is freely made. Of whom could this be confidently said? Of people weakened by illness, rendered lonely by familial or medical neglect? Of people in areas where palliative care provision is poor or where there are not enough hospices? Of people who are suggestible because of mental handicap or age, or being in prison, or a disability which makes them feel unwanted, or a desire, particularly of the old, “not to be a burden”? Many organized disability groups in the United Kingdom oppose assisted dying, and so do some of the royal colleges of various forms of relevant expertise. People with professional experience of care for the elderly often speak of incidents known to them in which greedy or uncaring relatives want a member of their family to die. I noticed that ethnic minorities were less likely than white people to support the bill and – though this was less marked – more women than men had their doubts about it. In other words, those with the most experience of human vulnerability and the power of public authorities to oppress people were the most unhappy.

Such points gradually made their mark on public opinion in general. To the original proposition, “Do you support assisted dying?” most people had originally assented. But it turned out that many of these had thought that assisted dying meant all forms of help for people who are terminally ill. 

All of the above, and more, came together to persuade many people, who had at first looked at the bill in quite a friendly way, that it was unsafe. How could one countenance passing an unsafe law, especially in a matter which is, precisely, one of life and death? This feeling will not go away. The next time an assisted suicide bill comes up – as it almost certainly will – legislation will have to be framed with much more thought, showing much better comprehension of why people are so worried.

Although new laws are required to bring in assisted suicide, these debates are not ultimately reliant on what is said in legislative chambers anywhere in the world. They arise from the wider state of hearts and minds. The recent experience in Britain has taught us quite a lot.

The first lesson is that, although autonomy matters greatly, it cannot always have the last word in human society, because we all live together. If we think that one person’s suicide is his or her business alone, we quite mistake human nature itself. Individual human life matters not in a vacuum but in relation to our shared life. If anyone near or dear to you has killed themselves, you will know that the action ripples outwards and affects others. Of course, some suicides are much more understandable than others, but all are sad, and many represent terrible waste and collective failure. When the phrase “the sanctity of human life” is used, people sometimes recoil because they think they are being preached at, but actually this is something which all decent people, at some level, feel. It is a binding principle of human society, based on our understanding of human dignity and human love. When suicide is assisted, that principle binds less well. The responsibilities of each to all are thus weakened, to the general disadvantage.

Another lesson is about the meaning of religion. Supporters of assisted suicide resent the “imposition” of religious views. One could argue back that, if religious views are an imposition, the same applies to secular ones. But the more serious point is that organized religion does not take its views about human life from some technical, obscure, or superstitious provision in the theological small print, but from its understanding of the condition of all humanity. This is particularly true of Christianity because it is the only religion of the Incarnation, God in man. Christians should not demand that their views be law simply because they assert them as universally true. But what they can show is that their views on human life are essential for a flourishing society and apply to every human being, deriving from the life, death and resurrection of one Man.