Skip to content
Search

Latest Stories

‘Debate over assisted dying raises risks for medical staff’

Expert worries mental health assessments may fail under proposed law

‘Debate over assisted dying raises risks for medical staff’
Supporters of the ‘Not Dead Yet’ campaign outside parliament last Friday (29) in London

AFTER five hours of debate over assisted dying, a historic private members’ bill passed its second reading in the House of Commons. This is a stunning change in the way we as a nation consider ending our lives.

We know from survey research that the religious tend to be against assisted dying. Given Asians in the UK tend to be more religious, comparatively, it is likely that Asians in general are less supportive of this new proposed legislation, compared to the general public.


One study found that assisted dying was considered by Muslims as a grave sin, indicative of turning away from god. Buddhists are inclined to oppose assisted dying, as they are against killing in any form. Hindus tend not to support a doctor’s decision to assist a patient’s request for euthanasia, because of the religious conviction that this produces an unnatural separation of the body and soul, resulting in damage to the “karma” of both the perpetrator (doctor) and the recipient (patient).

But Asians tend to have greater respect for doctors, and what concerns me as a clinician is that for all the hours and hours in the media and in parliament over the debate, this illuminated an entrenched tendency to just ignore medical professional’s opinions on health care. The public and the media seem to turn to anyone – an astrologer, a shaman, a receptionist, anyone – but an actual physician over any aspect of actual medicine.

Doctors confront at first hand unbearable suffering in their patients, so you might think that they would be strongly in favour of assisted dying.

However, I as a psychiatrist, remain concerned that many of those who want to shorten their lives may be doing so because they have become clinically depressed, maybe as a result of some terrible physical or even social predicament. Then, it is the depression that is driving them to choose an early and assisted death.

In other words, we need to be careful that assisted dying isn’t an assisted suicide, when the suicidal thinking could have been the result of a treatable mental illness.

We don’t know what the final legislation might yet look like, but if it includes an assessment is required by a psychiatrist, then would I be reassured?

What might happen – if this aspect is even entertained by legislators – is that they will use terms like ‘mental health professional’, which will make it look to the general public, like psychiatrists are involved, but in the end, the interventions will be done by much cheaper employees, who never darkened the door of a medical school.

We are seeing precisely this trend play out with the fight between doctors and the government over the introduction of ‘physician associates’ into the NHS.

So, in the end, any mental health assessment that is part of a new assisted dying policy will not be any real evaluation, and it will not actually be a genuine part of the contrasting landscape we find ourselves in.

After all, you try getting a mental health assessment at your local general practice for an ‘ordinary’ depression, and experience what a nerve-shredding nightmare that becomes. If NHS mental health care has in fact crumpled up and blown away, what chance is there that those applying for assisted dying are going to get any kind of decent mental health assessment, before being signed up for early dispatch by an already overstretched system?

But it’s not just the mental health of the patients who will come under this new proposed legislation that worries me; in fact, it is also the potential long-term impact on the different emotional demands created for doctors who will work in this alternative system.

I have been told that more medics come to consult with me over their mental health, than any other psychiatrist in the UK. They opt to see me privately in Harley Street in droves because they are nervous that any question over their mental health that enters their NHS medical records could trigger an unwelcome intrusive interest from the doctors’ regulator, the General Medical Council (GMC).

Physicians have an increasingly strained relationship with their regulator, which is widely seen as overly punitive, unfair, and has even been accused of racism.

Generally, doctors work under pressure, and already experience an elevated suicide rate, which varies from country to country, but can be up to two times the suicide rate of the general public.

Interestingly, veterinary surgeons have an even higher suicide rate than doctors, indeed some surveys suggest it is twice the rate of doctors. At first glance, this appears odd, as traditionally, it is even more difficult to get into veterinary college than medical school, so these are super bright, successful people doing a highstatus job, which is often very well remunerated. They would appear to have won the lottery of life.

After all, the hugely popular TV series, ‘All Creatures Great and Small’, was set in a veterinary surgeon practice in northern England, based on the best-selling books by James Herriot, and illustrated the enormous affection the public have for these professionals.

As the British prefer animals to people, so they hold the experts who treat their four-legged friends with much greater regard, compared to those who merely look after humans.

So, given all this love and adoration from the local community, why then do vets have such a high suicide rate?

One interesting speculation might be referred to as a ‘culture of death’ theory, which suggests that what the public don’t appreciate is that a huge amount of what vets do is, in fact, put animals down as a way of relieving suffering.

The theory argues that as a result of this, day in and day out, experience, vets come to see death as a liberation, and a solution to suffering. Perhaps this leads them to pull that trigger on themselves too early, when they encounter personal suffering. If this is the case, and if assisted dying is going to introduce a new kind of similarity to medical practice that vets already possibly endure, could it mean the suicide rate in doctors might also climb higher, strangely enough, because of this new assisted dying legislation?

Dr Raj Persaud FRCPsych is a consultant psychiatrist working in private practice in Harley Street London and is author of The Mental Vaccine for Covid-19 published by Amberley Press

More For You

Does likeability count more than brilliance?

Higher education participation is 50 per cent for British south Asian students

Does likeability count more than brilliance?

THE headline in the Daily Telegraph read: An 18-year-old with a higher IQ than Stephen Hawking has passed 23 A-levels.

The gushing piece went on to report that Mahnoor Cheema, whose family originate from Pakistan, had also received an unconditional offer from Oxford University to read medicine.

Keep ReadingShow less
Comment: Why it’s vital to tell stories
of Asian troops’ war effort

Jay Singh Sohal on Mandalay Hill in Burma at the position once held by Sikh machine gunners who fought to liberate the area

Comment: Why it’s vital to tell stories of Asian troops’ war effort

Jay Singh Sohal OBE VR

ACROSS the Asian subcontinent 80 years ago, the guns finally fell silent on August 15, the Second World War had truly ended.

Yet, in Britain, what became known as VJ Day often remains a distant afterthought, overshadowed by Victory in Europe against the Nazis, which is marked three months earlier.

Keep ReadingShow less
Judicial well-being: From taboo to recognition by the UN

The causes of judicial stress are multifaceted, and their effects go far beyond individual well-being

iStock

Judicial well-being: From taboo to recognition by the UN

Justice Rangajeeva Wimalasena

Judicial well-being has long been a taboo subject, despite the untold toll it has taken on judges who must grapple daily with the problems and traumas of others. Research shows that judicial stress is more pronounced among magistrates and trial judges, who routinely face intense caseloads and are exposed to distressing material. The causes of judicial stress are multifaceted, and their effects go far beyond individual well-being. They ultimately affect the integrity of the institution and the quality of justice delivered. This is why judicial well-being requires serious recognition and priority.

As early as 1981, American clinical psychologist Isaiah M. Zimmerman presented one of the first and most comprehensive analyses of the impact of stress on judges. He identified a collection of stressors, including overwhelming caseloads, isolation, the pressure to maintain a strong public image, and the loneliness of the judicial role. He also highlighted deeply personal challenges such as midlife transitions, marital strain, and diminishing career satisfaction, all of which quietly but persistently erode judicial well-being.

Keep ReadingShow less
Fauja Singh

Fauja Singh

Getty Images

What Fauja Singh taught me

I met Fauja Singh twice, once when we hiked Snowdon and I was in awe he was wearing shoes, not trainers and walking like a pro, no fear, just smiling away. I was struggling to do the hike with trainers. I remember my mum saying “what an inspiration”. He was a very humble and kind human being. The second time I met him was when I was at an event, and again, he just had such a radiant energy about him. He’s one of a kind and I’m blessed to have met him.

He wasn’t just a runner. He was a symbol. A living contradiction to everything we’re taught about age, limits, and when to stop dreaming. And now that he’s gone, it feels like a light has gone out—not just in Punjab or east London, but in the hearts of everyone who saw a bit of themselves in his journey.

Keep ReadingShow less
“Why can’t I just run?”: A south Asian woman’s harrowing harassment story

Minreet with her mother

“Why can’t I just run?”: A south Asian woman’s harrowing harassment story

I was five years old when my parents first signed me up for a mini marathon. They were both keen runners and wanted me to follow in their footsteps. At the time, I hated it. Running felt like punishment — exhausting, uncomfortable, and something I never imagined I’d do by choice.

But one moment changed everything. I was 12, attending a gymnastics competition, and had gone to the car alone to grab my hula hoop. As I walked back, a group of men started shouting at me. They moved closer. I didn’t wait to hear what they had to say — I ran. Fast. My heart was pounding. It was the first time I felt afraid simply for existing in public as a young girl. I never told anyone. But I remember feeling thankful, strangely, that my parents had taught me how to run.

Keep ReadingShow less