Thank you, convener. I am grateful that you have allowed me to join your meeting this morning. In my 10 years in the Parliament, it is the one committee that I have not attended.

I want to make a declaration up front, so that everyone knows exactly where I am coming from. I was a soldier for 12 years. I did not do an operation banner tour in Northern Ireland, but a lot of my friends served there, and I had friends who died there. In July 1982, in London, friends and colleagues in my regiment—Anthony Daly, Roy Bright, Jeff Young and Simon Tipper—were blown up, with their horses, while they were carrying out ceremonial duties. In 2020, a colleague, Dennis Hutchings, was dragged back to answer charges dating back to 1974. He was suffering from a terminal illness and died before his trial was completed. For a variety of reasons, I am emotionally invested in the bill.

Let us say that John Downey, one of the IRA members who planted the bomb in London, who was given an on-the-run ticket, was living in Scotland. Would the legacy commission, as set up by the bill, which the Government in Scotland is supporting, haul him in for justice in the same way that Dennis Hutchings was for an event in 1974?

I have one more question. Cabinet secretary, what I know is that the majority of us have no idea what it is like for the people whom we ask to serve their country and whom we throw into harm’s way. Decisions must be made in split seconds, when things go—excuse the vernacular—batshit crazy. You look left, you look right, you make sure the people on either side of you are all right, and then you do everything in your power at that stage to protect them. I struggle to understand how setting up a commission whose members sit in a warm room with cups of coffee and water and adequate food can look back dispassionately and make judgments about what people did at the time—things that people in those situations thought were the right things to do. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but, when you have things being thrown at you, you do not have that view.

Is the Scottish Government content that the bill will protect soldiers and servicemen and women from all the services who have done exactly what we have asked them to do in really difficult situations that are, for most of us, impossible to understand?

A legacy commission is being set up by the bill, which you support. Will the legacy commission look at both sides of the argument, unlike what happened in the past, before the 2023 bill, when it was just soldiers and servicemen and women who were hauled before the legacy commission? Will people who were involved from—I will be careful with my terminology—the other side be hauled in front of the legacy commission?

I share the view of the cabinet secretary that the system should treat everyone equally. My fear is that the bill will make the situation unequal for those who have responded to the call of their country to do what they are asked to do. I do not need to mention that three Scottish soldiers—young lads—were hauled out of their barracks, shot and killed. No one has been called to justice for that. My view is that giving consent to a bill that does not ensure justice for both sides is fundamentally wrong. I urge committee members to reflect on that when, as I know that they will do, they give the issue the serious consideration that it needs.

Thank you for allowing me to make my point this morning, convener.

We have finally reached the last stage of the Assisted Dying for Terminally Ill Adults (Scotland) Bill. I am sure that, for many, it has been a long and uncomfortable journey. We have all had to consider our own mortality and that of our constituents. Looking death in the eye has never been easy, and we must always consider the fragility of life. However, let us be clear: in my mind, life is always about living.

I have heard much in the debate about why people should have the choice. In principle, I agree. However, choice can be made only if there are genuine options. Those options must include palliative care, for which my colleague Miles Briggs has fought hard. However, the sad fact is that more than 14,000 Scots a year die without proper palliative care, and a lot of money would be needed to provide that. Thus, to some, it may be easier to opt for death, knowing that palliative care close to their home and family is unavailable. That is not a choice. Before we consider helping those people to die, we must know that their end of life is fully provided for and funded—which, at the moment, it is not.

Funding is a key issue when it comes to the bill. We know that funding for it would come from the existing national health service budget. The Government has been clear that it has no idea of the costs, but it admits that they would be high, and it says that a level of reprioritisation would be required. That means that existing services would face funding cuts. Which treatments would be cut? Would they include cancer care, palliative care, elective surgery, or perhaps even screening for breast or bowel cancers? It is just not good enough to say, “Pass this bill, and then we’ll work out how we’re going to pay for it.” We need clarity now.

On clarity, if the bill is passed, what will happen to those who want to opt out of providing an assisted death—from doctors to nurses to care homes to palliative care homes? Many of those, like me, will have no religious drivers but will know in their hearts that they do not want to be part of the process. The part of the bill that would have protected conscientious objectors has been removed, in order to make the bill competent. That worries me. Civil servants and ministers at Westminster will be able to decide on how to protect Scots in what is specifically a Scottish bill. Here, in our Parliament, there will be no choice on the exact detail. That not only seems wrong but is wrong.

I will turn to the area of the bill that gives me the greatest concern: coercion, including self-coercion. I find that a really difficult area to discuss. When one’s grip on life is fragile, the mind does somersaults. However, once someone gets past thinking that it might be easier and kinder to their family to die, the overriding consideration will turn to living. Treatment options and pathways for care are, rightly, the top priorities. However, the bill would give doctors the right, in terminal cases, to say, “Death is available.” I believe that the last thing that we should do is suggest that ending life is a form of treatment.

Presiding Officer, when we despair we need hope. Death offers no hope. Treatment and care offer hope. Let us provide and fund that care before we legislate to end life. Until we do, I am afraid that I cannot support the offering of assisted death; to me, that is morally wrong if we cannot allow for an assisted life.

18:48

We have finally reached the last stage of the Assisted Dying for Terminally Ill Adults (Scotland) Bill. I am sure that, for many, it has been a long and uncomfortable journey. We have all had to consider our own mortality and that of our constituents. Looking death in the eye has never been easy, and we must always consider the fragility of life. However, let us be clear: in my mind, life is always about living.

I have heard much in the debate about why people should have the choice. In principle, I agree. However, choice can be made only if there are genuine options. Those options must include palliative care, for which my colleague Miles Briggs has fought hard. However, the sad fact is that more than 14,000 Scots a year die without proper palliative care, and a lot of money would be needed to provide that. Thus, to some, it may be easier to opt for death, knowing that palliative care close to their home and family is unavailable. That is not a choice. Before we consider helping those people to die, we must know that their end of life is fully provided for and funded—which, at the moment, it is not.

Funding is a key issue when it comes to the bill. We know that funding for it would come from the existing national health service budget. The Government has been clear that it has no idea of the costs, but it admits that they would be high, and it says that a level of reprioritisation would be required. That means that existing services would face funding cuts. Which treatments would be cut? Would they include cancer care, palliative care, elective surgery, or perhaps even screening for breast or bowel cancers? It is just not good enough to say, “Pass this bill, and then we’ll work out how we’re going to pay for it.” We need clarity now.

On clarity, if the bill is passed, what will happen to those who want to opt out of providing an assisted death—from doctors to nurses to care homes to palliative care homes? Many of those, like me, will have no religious drivers but will know in their hearts that they do not want to be part of the process. The part of the bill that would have protected conscientious objectors has been removed, in order to make the bill competent. That worries me. Civil servants and ministers at Westminster will be able to decide on how to protect Scots in what is specifically a Scottish bill. Here, in our Parliament, there will be no choice on the exact detail. That not only seems wrong but is wrong.

I will turn to the area of the bill that gives me the greatest concern: coercion, including self-coercion. I find that a really difficult area to discuss. When one’s grip on life is fragile, the mind does somersaults. However, once someone gets past thinking that it might be easier and kinder to their family to die, the overriding consideration will turn to living. Treatment options and pathways for care are, rightly, the top priorities. However, the bill would give doctors the right, in terminal cases, to say, “Death is available.” I believe that the last thing that we should do is suggest that ending life is a form of treatment.

Presiding Officer, when we despair we need hope. Death offers no hope. Treatment and care offer hope. Let us provide and fund that care before we legislate to end life. Until we do, I am afraid that I cannot support the offering of assisted death; to me, that is morally wrong if we cannot allow for an assisted life.

18:48

We have finally reached the last stage of the Assisted Dying for Terminally Ill Adults (Scotland) Bill. I am sure that, for many, it has been a long and uncomfortable journey. We have all had to consider our own mortality and that of our constituents. Looking death in the eye has never been easy, and we must always consider the fragility of life. However, let us be clear: in my mind, life is always about living.

I have heard much in the debate about why people should have the choice. In principle, I agree. However, choice can be made only if there are genuine options. Those options must include palliative care, for which my colleague Miles Briggs has fought hard. However, the sad fact is that more than 14,000 Scots a year die without proper palliative care, and a lot of money would be needed to provide that. Thus, to some, it may be easier to opt for death, knowing that palliative care close to their home and family is unavailable. That is not a choice. Before we consider helping those people to die, we must know that their end of life is fully provided for and funded—which, at the moment, it is not.

Funding is a key issue when it comes to the bill. We know that funding for it would come from the existing national health service budget. The Government has been clear that it has no idea of the costs, but it admits that they would be high, and it says that a level of reprioritisation would be required. That means that existing services would face funding cuts. Which treatments would be cut? Would they include cancer care, palliative care, elective surgery, or perhaps even screening for breast or bowel cancers? It is just not good enough to say, “Pass this bill, and then we’ll work out how we’re going to pay for it.” We need clarity now.

On clarity, if the bill is passed, what will happen to those who want to opt out of providing an assisted death—from doctors to nurses to care homes to palliative care homes? Many of those, like me, will have no religious drivers but will know in their hearts that they do not want to be part of the process. The part of the bill that would have protected conscientious objectors has been removed, in order to make the bill competent. That worries me. Civil servants and ministers at Westminster will be able to decide on how to protect Scots in what is specifically a Scottish bill. Here, in our Parliament, there will be no choice on the exact detail. That not only seems wrong but is wrong.

I will turn to the area of the bill that gives me the greatest concern: coercion, including self-coercion. I find that a really difficult area to discuss. When one’s grip on life is fragile, the mind does somersaults. However, once someone gets past thinking that it might be easier and kinder to their family to die, the overriding consideration will turn to living. Treatment options and pathways for care are, rightly, the top priorities. However, the bill would give doctors the right, in terminal cases, to say, “Death is available.” I believe that the last thing that we should do is suggest that ending life is a form of treatment.

Presiding Officer, when we despair we need hope. Death offers no hope. Treatment and care offer hope. Let us provide and fund that care before we legislate to end life. Until we do, I am afraid that I cannot support the offering of assisted death; to me, that is morally wrong if we cannot allow for an assisted life.

18:48

We have finally reached the last stage of the Assisted Dying for Terminally Ill Adults (Scotland) Bill. I am sure that, for many, it has been a long and uncomfortable journey. We have all had to consider our own mortality and that of our constituents. Looking death in the eye has never been easy, and we must always consider the fragility of life. However, let us be clear: in my mind, life is always about living.

I have heard much in the debate about why people should have the choice. In principle, I agree. However, choice can be made only if there are genuine options. Those options must include palliative care, for which my colleague Miles Briggs has fought hard. However, the sad fact is that more than 14,000 Scots a year die without proper palliative care, and a lot of money would be needed to provide that. Thus, to some, it may be easier to opt for death, knowing that palliative care close to their home and family is unavailable. That is not a choice. Before we consider helping those people to die, we must know that their end of life is fully provided for and funded—which, at the moment, it is not.

Funding is a key issue when it comes to the bill. We know that funding for it would come from the existing national health service budget. The Government has been clear that it has no idea of the costs, but it admits that they would be high, and it says that a level of reprioritisation would be required. That means that existing services would face funding cuts. Which treatments would be cut? Would they include cancer care, palliative care, elective surgery, or perhaps even screening for breast or bowel cancers? It is just not good enough to say, “Pass this bill, and then we’ll work out how we’re going to pay for it.” We need clarity now.

On clarity, if the bill is passed, what will happen to those who want to opt out of providing an assisted death—from doctors to nurses to care homes to palliative care homes? Many of those, like me, will have no religious drivers but will know in their hearts that they do not want to be part of the process. The part of the bill that would have protected conscientious objectors has been removed, in order to make the bill competent. That worries me. Civil servants and ministers at Westminster will be able to decide on how to protect Scots in what is specifically a Scottish bill. Here, in our Parliament, there will be no choice on the exact detail. That not only seems wrong but is wrong.

I will turn to the area of the bill that gives me the greatest concern: coercion, including self-coercion. I find that a really difficult area to discuss. When one’s grip on life is fragile, the mind does somersaults. However, once someone gets past thinking that it might be easier and kinder to their family to die, the overriding consideration will turn to living. Treatment options and pathways for care are, rightly, the top priorities. However, the bill would give doctors the right, in terminal cases, to say, “Death is available.” I believe that the last thing that we should do is suggest that ending life is a form of treatment.

Presiding Officer, when we despair we need hope. Death offers no hope. Treatment and care offer hope. Let us provide and fund that care before we legislate to end life. Until we do, I am afraid that I cannot support the offering of assisted death; to me, that is morally wrong if we cannot allow for an assisted life.

18:48

We have finally reached the last stage of the Assisted Dying for Terminally Ill Adults (Scotland) Bill. I am sure that, for many, it has been a long and uncomfortable journey. We have all had to consider our own mortality and that of our constituents. Looking death in the eye has never been easy, and we must always consider the fragility of life. However, let us be clear: in my mind, life is always about living.

I have heard much in the debate about why people should have the choice. In principle, I agree. However, choice can be made only if there are genuine options. Those options must include palliative care, for which my colleague Miles Briggs has fought hard. However, the sad fact is that more than 14,000 Scots a year die without proper palliative care, and a lot of money would be needed to provide that. Thus, to some, it may be easier to opt for death, knowing that palliative care close to their home and family is unavailable. That is not a choice. Before we consider helping those people to die, we must know that their end of life is fully provided for and funded—which, at the moment, it is not.

Funding is a key issue when it comes to the bill. We know that funding for it would come from the existing national health service budget. The Government has been clear that it has no idea of the costs, but it admits that they would be high, and it says that a level of reprioritisation would be required. That means that existing services would face funding cuts. Which treatments would be cut? Would they include cancer care, palliative care, elective surgery, or perhaps even screening for breast or bowel cancers? It is just not good enough to say, “Pass this bill, and then we’ll work out how we’re going to pay for it.” We need clarity now.

On clarity, if the bill is passed, what will happen to those who want to opt out of providing an assisted death—from doctors to nurses to care homes to palliative care homes? Many of those, like me, will have no religious drivers but will know in their hearts that they do not want to be part of the process. The part of the bill that would have protected conscientious objectors has been removed, in order to make the bill competent. That worries me. Civil servants and ministers at Westminster will be able to decide on how to protect Scots in what is specifically a Scottish bill. Here, in our Parliament, there will be no choice on the exact detail. That not only seems wrong but is wrong.

I will turn to the area of the bill that gives me the greatest concern: coercion, including self-coercion. I find that a really difficult area to discuss. When one’s grip on life is fragile, the mind does somersaults. However, once someone gets past thinking that it might be easier and kinder to their family to die, the overriding consideration will turn to living. Treatment options and pathways for care are, rightly, the top priorities. However, the bill would give doctors the right, in terminal cases, to say, “Death is available.” I believe that the last thing that we should do is suggest that ending life is a form of treatment.

Presiding Officer, when we despair we need hope. Death offers no hope. Treatment and care offer hope. Let us provide and fund that care before we legislate to end life. Until we do, I am afraid that I cannot support the offering of assisted death; to me, that is morally wrong if we cannot allow for an assisted life.

18:48

We have finally reached the last stage of the Assisted Dying for Terminally Ill Adults (Scotland) Bill. I am sure that, for many, it has been a long and uncomfortable journey. We have all had to consider our own mortality and that of our constituents. Looking death in the eye has never been easy, and we must always consider the fragility of life. However, let us be clear: in my mind, life is always about living.

I have heard much in the debate about why people should have the choice. In principle, I agree. However, choice can be made only if there are genuine options. Those options must include palliative care, for which my colleague Miles Briggs has fought hard. However, the sad fact is that more than 14,000 Scots a year die without proper palliative care, and a lot of money would be needed to provide that. Thus, to some, it may be easier to opt for death, knowing that palliative care close to their home and family is unavailable. That is not a choice. Before we consider helping those people to die, we must know that their end of life is fully provided for and funded—which, at the moment, it is not.

Funding is a key issue when it comes to the bill. We know that funding for it would come from the existing national health service budget. The Government has been clear that it has no idea of the costs, but it admits that they would be high, and it says that a level of reprioritisation would be required. That means that existing services would face funding cuts. Which treatments would be cut? Would they include cancer care, palliative care, elective surgery, or perhaps even screening for breast or bowel cancers? It is just not good enough to say, “Pass this bill, and then we’ll work out how we’re going to pay for it.” We need clarity now.

On clarity, if the bill is passed, what will happen to those who want to opt out of providing an assisted death—from doctors to nurses to care homes to palliative care homes? Many of those, like me, will have no religious drivers but will know in their hearts that they do not want to be part of the process. The part of the bill that would have protected conscientious objectors has been removed, in order to make the bill competent. That worries me. Civil servants and ministers at Westminster will be able to decide on how to protect Scots in what is specifically a Scottish bill. Here, in our Parliament, there will be no choice on the exact detail. That not only seems wrong but is wrong.

I will turn to the area of the bill that gives me the greatest concern: coercion, including self-coercion. I find that a really difficult area to discuss. When one’s grip on life is fragile, the mind does somersaults. However, once someone gets past thinking that it might be easier and kinder to their family to die, the overriding consideration will turn to living. Treatment options and pathways for care are, rightly, the top priorities. However, the bill would give doctors the right, in terminal cases, to say, “Death is available.” I believe that the last thing that we should do is suggest that ending life is a form of treatment.

Presiding Officer, when we despair we need hope. Death offers no hope. Treatment and care offer hope. Let us provide and fund that care before we legislate to end life. Until we do, I am afraid that I cannot support the offering of assisted death; to me, that is morally wrong if we cannot allow for an assisted life.

18:48