It is hard to think of a better MP to take on the cause of assisted dying than Kim Leadbeater. She is energetic, engaging, persuasive and speaks like a normal human being. She has no tribal reputation, so there is no barrier to winning over Conservatives, and she has experience of horrifying personal tragedy: her sister, the MP Jo Cox, was murdered.
But it would be wrong to say it was Leadbeater who won this initial push to legalise assisted dying. Under the surface, the most important contribution has been the one made by ordinary people, an experiment in participatory democracy by stealth. In the end, that was what delivered such a comprehensive victory for the change at this stage.
Downing Street may sneer at the idea of citizens’ assemblies, but there have been small-scale ones happening all the same. Hundreds of MPs were undecided at the start of this process. So invitations were sent out in constituencies for people to meet their MPs and tell their stories – in pubs, libraries, community halls.
The meetings were packed, MPs said. There were tears of anger and frustration, of reliving the worst moments of their lives, of anguished fear over what awaits if people are already ill, or of how a loved one might feel like a burden.
On equal marriage, it was often said that parliament was ahead of public opinion. On assisted dying, parliament has seemed to lag behind. Two-thirds of those polled back assisted dying. Equal marriage or abortion are comparable moments of a fundamental societal shift. But they will never be personal to everyone – unlike death.
There have been many powerful and persuasive voices who spoke against the bill, including those of palliative care doctors, four former prime ministers, former judges, the father and mother of the House of Commons, and the health and justice secretaries.
Those interventions gave many MPs pause – particularly that of Wes Streeting, the health secretary who expressed his fears that the NHS was in no state to deliver such a seismic change.
But when it came to their final choice, it was the voices of ordinary constituents that rang in the minds of most MPs and whom they referred to the most in their speeches in the chamber.
Leadbeater dedicated most of her speech to the stories of individuals she had spoken to – relatives traumatised by watching loved ones suffocate to death, or a woman with terminal cancer allergic to opioids and facing a painful end. She appeared on the verge of tears as MPs spoke of the deaths of loved ones.
For those opposed, many argued forcefully and convincingly that individual empathy was not the only role of parliamentarians. It was to consider the risks to the most vulnerable people, not what each of us might want for ourselves at the end of life.
Many Labour MPs saw this as a core part of their politics: equality and justice for vunerable people, over individual choice.
Leadbeater’s connection with so many people desperate for change meant it sometimes appeared during recent weeks that she could never quite articulate convincingly that she grasped the real fears around coercion, or how the dying may feel like a burden. Once or twice, she almost appeared to suggest that was an understandable reason to choose to die.
What made the vote so unpredictable was the youth of the new parliament – both the age of its members and how many were new to the house, which hosts a record number of new MPs. Just over 200 of the 650 MPs were present when a vote on assisted dying was comprehensively defeated in 2015.
And although it went unspoken, Keir Starmer’s support for change was critical. As a new MP he made one of the most powerful speeches in the 2015 debate. This time he was completely silent, insistent that the government remain neutral.
He made no interventions in the debates before the vote, apart from veiled references to his time as the director of public prosecutions. It was a hint that he felt the current law was not fit for purpose. Even without a whip, it was powerful for many new MPs when the prime minister and the chancellor, Rachel Reeves, voted yes. For those worried about the safeguards or the drafting, Starmer’s support was a useful comfort blanket.
Perhaps the most striking aspect of the Commons debate was how many MPs suggested they had changed their minds – not a common refrain in Westminster. The former cabinet ministers David Davis and Andrew Mitchell were moved to support the bill. Marie Tidball, one of parliament’s few disabled MPs, suggested she had been instinctively against, recalling her own time as a child in hospital when the level of pain had made her wish for death.
But she said she had decided it was time to give people choice. Those changing their minds were not one way – Streeting voted in favour in 2015. Jess Asato, a new Labour MP, said her work with vulnerable women and girls and her fears about coercion were the reason she changed her mind to against.
In many speeches, MPs said their support was conditional. They wanted to see changes at the next stage – a tightening of which medical professionals can approve the changes, whether doctors should be allowed to suggest the option or not. The government will begin its impact assessments, and with a minister due to be assigned to the bill, it will probably offer its own amendments.
Apprehension remains about the next steps in government. There is no higher priority for Downing Street than the NHS – because it is so often the barometer that the public use to assess the functioning of the state. The symbolism of making it easier for people to die is a difficult one.
As much as the government can try to claim neutrality, that does not translate to ordinary people. Conversations over the weekend are unlikely to be about anything Starmer will say on the NHS – but about this fundamental shift on life and death. It may yet be the biggest moment of consequence he will preside over as prime minister.
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