Honourable Chairs, thank you for inviting me to appear before you today. I appear before you as an individual.
I'm a family physician with experience working in addictions medicine, mental health and end-of-life care. My perspectives are shaped by providing care for those with profound suffering, including an expressed wish to die. I've also worked as a MAID assessor and provider since 2016. I come to the discussion not as an ideologue, but as a clinician who has sat with suffering in many forms—physical, mental, existential and social.
I want to begin by acknowledging something very important. Suffering associated with severe mental disorders can be unbearable. Those of us who provide care for those with severe chronic mental illness know this first-hand. Their suffering is real. It is not less real because it is psychiatric rather than physical.
Recognizing this suffering is one of the reasons that many support MAID where mental disorder is a sole underlying condition. The potential benefit, ethically speaking, is the respect for autonomy and also equal treatment. If grievous and irremediable suffering is the foundation of MAID eligibility, some argue it would be discriminatory to categorically exclude those whose suffering is solely from mental illness.
There's also an argument rooted in compassion. For a small subset of people whose suffering may truly be enduring, refractory and intolerable despite years of care, MAID may be seen as a last resort to relieve their suffering where other medicine has failed to relieve them.
Those arguments deserve serious consideration, but so too do the risks. In my view and from my clinical experience, the risks of proceeding currently outweigh the potential benefits. These risks are not just incidental; they're fundamental.
It begins with the concept of irremediability. In many physical illnesses where MAID is currently provided, prognosis may be difficult, but it is often more knowable. In psychiatry, by contrast, predicting that a person's suffering is truly irremediable is far from certain.
Recovery in mental illness can be non-linear and surprising. Patients who at one point seemed like they were beyond hope may later improve from treatment, sometimes because their circumstances change—housing stabilizes, trauma is addressed, substance use remits, relationships repair or hope returns—and sometimes simply from the passage of time itself. I've seen patients who had once believed death was their only relief find stability, meaning and reasons to live later. That uncertainty matters deeply when the intervention being considered is irreversible.
A second concern is that many features of severe mental illness can directly affect the wish to die. Hopelessness, self-destructive thinking, impaired future orientation, and suicidality can all be symptoms of the illness itself. Particularly in addictions medicine, I see how suffering can distort what appears to be a settled wish for death. Distinguishing a sustained, autonomous wish to die from a treatable expression of an illness is not a simple assessment challenge. It is often the core clinical question.
I worry that in some cases, we may not be responding to an autonomous, enduring request for assisted dying, but rather to the voice of the illness itself. That is not a distinction we can afford to get wrong.
My third concern is that I'm deeply concerned about structural vulnerabilities. Requests for death don't arise in a vacuum. They may emerge in the context of trauma, poverty, isolation, inadequate housing, long ways for treatment, and lack of access to care and supports. If people seek MAID because they cannot access the conditions necessary to live with dignity, that is not a triumph of autonomy; it is a failure of care. In such cases, the suffering may be real, but its drivers may be remediable through social response rather than death as a medical intervention.
That raises a profound ethical concern: Are we offering MAID in some cases because a person’s suffering is truly irremediable or because our systems have been unable or unwilling to provide what people need to live? I would submit that Canada has not yet demonstrated a mental health and social care system robust enough to assure those alternatives are meaningfully available.
Some may still argue that this is discriminatory. I would respectfully suggest caution is not discrimination when it arises from genuine clinical uncertainty and concern for protection of the vulnerable. Equal respect does not always require identical responses when the underlying clinical realities differ.
For me, the question is not whether some people with mental illness suffer grievously—they do. The question is whether we can reliably distinguish in practice those rare cases where suffering is truly irremediable from those where despair may yet be treatable. I am not persuaded we can do so with sufficient confidence.
Where doubt exists in matters of life and death, where prognosis is uncertain and where vulnerability is profound, caution is not paternalism. It is an ethical responsibility.
Thank you.