Meghan Gallacher
MSP for Central ScotlandWhen I arrived at Holyrood early on Tuesday morning, there was a palpable unease in the air. For the third time in the short life of the Scottish Parliament, MSPs were preparing to vote on assisted dying — an issue as complex as it is emotionally charged.
Death remains one of the last great taboos. We speak of it in hushed tones, if at all. Yet, in this debate, there was a rare point of consensus: everyone wants to ensure that people die with dignity.
In recent weeks, my inbox had been flooded with messages from constituents, seeking to understand where I stood on the Bill. In truth, I agonised over the decision for months. This was not a vote to take lightly. The debate was unwhipped, giving MSPs freedom to speak from conscience rather than party script. For a few hours, ideological lines blurred. It was Parliament at its best.
I had resolved not to speak during the debate, choosing instead to listen. The moment that crystallised the weight of the decision came during a powerful contribution from Pam Duncan-Glancy, who urged colleagues to consider the Bill’s potential consequences for disabled people.
When the time came to vote, I hesitated. My finger hovered over the ‘Yes’ button — just for a moment. I have long advocated for the principle of assisted dying: that individuals facing the relentless advance of a degenerative illness should have the right to choose when and how they die. But principles must be tested against practical consequences, and on that count, I could not give my support.
Some MSPs voted yes to explore the Bill’s merits further, arguing that Stage 1 was merely a first step in refining safeguards. Others, like me, concluded that the risks were too great. A phrase from the debate stuck with me: “If in doubt, don’t do it.” My heart said yes. My head said no.
And in the end, I voted no.
Since then, I have outlined my reasoning — chief among them, the need to protect the most vulnerable. But I must also admit to a deeper concern: I lack confidence in the Scottish Parliament’s ability to legislate effectively on a matter of such gravity.
Recent history offers little reassurance. From failed judicial reviews to controversial interpretations of key legal terms — including the Supreme Court’s recent decision striking down the redefinition of ‘woman’ — there is a pattern of poorly framed laws inviting legal challenge.
This Bill is no different. Its eligibility criteria do not include a requirement for a specific life expectancy, meaning that individuals who might live substantially longer with appropriate care could still qualify. Its definition of a qualifying condition — “an advanced or progressive disease, illness or condition from which the person cannot recover and which can reasonably be expected to cause premature death” — is narrower than in previous iterations, but still open to wide interpretation and, inevitably, challenge.
Disabled people’s organisations have rightly voiced concern. Many MSPs also raised the chronic inadequacy of palliative care services in Scotland — a consensus that echoed previous debates, including in 2010. Yet little has changed since then. This raises a difficult but necessary question: should we consider legislating for assisted dying when we have failed to provide dignified end-of-life care for so many?
Why has the Scottish Government not done more to improve the lives of those with terminal illness?
Despite these misgivings, the Bill passed its first stage, with 70 MSPs in favour and 54 opposed. It now proceeds to Stage 2 — further scrutiny, more amendments, deeper debate. What happens next will be shaped by Parliament. But one thing is certain: Scotland’s conversation about death, and what it means to die well, has changed irrevocably.
