The recent tabling of the Assisted Dying Bill in the UK Parliament is a deeply alarming development—one that must not be overlooked by fellow members of the Commonwealth, especially those that trace their legal and ethical frameworks to common law traditions. The Bill proposes to decriminalise assisted dying in England and Wales, under certain safeguards. While the intent may seem humane on the surface—allowing terminally ill adults with six months to live the right to end their lives with medical assistance—the ramifications stretch far deeper and darker than what appears in legal text.
At its core, this bill introduces a chilling recalibration of how society values human life, particularly when that life is deemed terminal, burdensome, or no longer “productive.” Despite its safeguards, including assessments by two doctors and a High Court judge, the very act of legalising a pathway to death opens doors to subtle coercion, misdiagnosis, and a cultural shift that may begin to normalize suicide as a solution to human suffering.
Let us begin with the flawed premise on which the bill rests: the assumption that doctors can accurately predict the timeline of death. Anyone remotely familiar with the limits of modern medicine knows that medical prognoses are often estimates—not absolute truths. Countless cases exist where patients diagnosed with “six months to live” outlived expectations by years. Science, for all its merits, is not an oracle. Medical timelines are based on probabilities, not guarantees. To base a law permitting death on such an uncertain foundation is legally and ethically irresponsible.
Moreover, how do we ensure the mental and moral capacity of the decision-makers—the doctors and judges involved? Who certifies their medical soundness and moral impartiality? And who scrutinises those who examine them? The layers of subjectivity and risk of abuse are far too many, especially in overburdened healthcare systems already under economic and moral strain.
We live in an age where globalization and capitalism have already distanced people from one another. Loneliness is being referred to as a public health crisis in the developed world. In such times, the solution is more empathy, not legalized escape routes from existence. Terminal patients do not only need palliative medicine; they need community, love, dignity, and presence. The passage of such a bill, rather than addressing the systemic failures of healthcare and social support, simply offers a legally sanctioned exit.
Worse, the implications for youth mental health are particularly grave. Suicide is already one of the leading causes of death among young people globally. At a time when countless youth are battling depression, anxiety, and existential dread, laws like this set a damaging precedent—suggesting that some lives are too painful to continue, and that ending them can be not only justified but legally endorsed.
Let us not forget that faith, traditional healing, and the human will to survive have long served humanity, often where science falls short. Whether through belief in God, as in Islam, or through indigenous and alternative medical systems like acupuncture, herbalism, or spiritual therapy, people have found healing, hope, and resilience. By marginalizing these pathways and creating a new legal normal for state-approved death, we risk devaluing the many ways in which people continue to fight, survive, and heal.
During my recent several visits to China, I had the opportunity to visit one of the world’s largest gene research facilities—BGI Genomics, along with cell manufacturing and regenerative medicine research centres that are pioneering cutting-edge gene therapy solutions. The groundbreaking research underway in these labs is bringing realistic hope to those suffering from illnesses that were considered fatal just a decade ago.
China, through the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), is not only building infrastructure but also sharing scientific expertise with partner countries—many of which are from the Global South. This marks a revolutionary shift in global medical cooperation and shows how investment in life-saving technologies can offer a future of dignity and survival rather than surrender.
It is therefore tragic and paradoxical that while some nations are making unprecedented progress toward healing, others are legalising pathways to death. These legal steps—if unchallenged—will have cross-border ethical implications, especially for Commonwealth nations and those aligned with UK legal traditions.
Such legislation must not be treated as an internal matter of one sovereign state. Instead, parliaments around the world, particularly in countries like Pakistan, must take this up for serious debate. It is time that forums such as the Inter-Parliamentary Union (IPU), the Commonwealth Parliamentary Association (CPA), the World Health Organization (WHO), and the UN Human Rights Council begin deliberating on the ethical and human rights concerns associated with assisted dying laws.
As a global village, we must ensure that compassion, not convenience, drives our legal systems. If wealthier nations normalize such practices, poorer countries—already suffering from healthcare access issues—may exploit similar laws as cost-cutting measures. Vulnerable patients who need love and care could be pushed toward death under the guise of relief. That would be a gross failure of our shared humanity.
As someone studying law at the University of London, I’ve come to understand that law is not merely a tool to regulate behaviour, but a moral compass for society. It teaches us to protect the weakest, not eliminate them. Assisted dying laws must be viewed not just as policy choices but as civilisational decisions about how we treat human suffering.
We are living in an age where science is not only evolving but also extending lives. Technology is helping people walk again, speak again, and even breathe again. To pass laws that undermine this human potential is to betray both faith in science and humanity.
Rather than offering death, let us offer compassion, innovation, and solidarity. Let us remind ourselves that every breath is sacred, and that in our darkest moments, it is hope—not the law—that must prevail.
