The voting process for the bill intended to authorise the use of euthanasia and assisted dying in France has all the hallmarks of a protracted struggle, given that the ‘social consensus’ sought by the bill’s proponents on the sensitive issue is nowhere to be seen.
With just a few days to go before the final vote, scheduled for July 15th, the bill establishing a right to ‘assisted dying’ is entering its final stages in an atmosphere far removed from that of a calm reform. Whilst the government had presented the existence of a consensus as an essential prerequisite for any change on a subject as serious as the medically supervised termination of patients’ lives, recent weeks have, on the contrary, highlighted deep divisions. Divisions between the two houses of Parliament, amongst health care professionals, and between institutions, but also within the ruling coalition itself.
This tension is not solely due to the highly sensitive nature of the subject. It also stems from a particularly turbulent legislative process, which contrasts with the idea of a widely accepted shift in French society. Rarely has a social reform experienced so many twists and turns, back-and-forths, amendments, and institutional deadlocks before its final adoption.
The National Assembly adopted the bill at its third reading on June 30th, but this victory for supporters of ‘assisted dying’ appears less clear-cut than before. The majority achieved—295 votes to 232—remains a reality, but it has gradually narrowed over the course of the readings, leading opponents of euthanasia to believe that it was possible to reverse the trend and secure the reform’s withdrawal, much as happened in the UK in the face of opposition in the House of Lords. Far from growing, parliamentary support appears to have eroded as the practical implications of the bill were examined. The debates showed that the questions no longer centred solely on the principle of euthanasia or assisted death but also on procedural safeguards, the role of the doctor, eligibility criteria, the protection of vulnerable people, and the role of palliative care.
This development highlights a paradox that is hard to ignore. For several years, the president of the republic himself had explained that such a fundamental reform could only take place provided that a sufficiently broad social consensus could be reached. Yet the opposite seems to have emerged from this final stage of the parliamentary process. Opposition has not diminished; it has become more organised. Reservations are no longer confined to religious representatives or traditional pro-life advocates; they are also being voiced by sections of the medical profession, legal experts, organisations representing people with disabilities, and even palliative care specialists. The national council of the order of doctors has sounded the alarm for a long time, arguing that “euthanasia and assisted suicide are not medical decisions.”
The Senate has adopted a stance that is particularly revealing of this impasse. Recognising the impossibility of reconciling the positions of the two chambers, its social affairs committee refused to proceed with a third detailed reading of the bill and instead chose to hold the government to account. Legally, this decision does not prevent the law from being passed; the constitution allows the government to give the National Assembly the final say. Politically, however, the message is a strong one. The chamber traditionally tasked with ensuring a degree of institutional stability has refused to endorse a reform it deems insufficiently balanced and has instead chosen to lay bare, in full view, the persistent disagreement between the two chambers. Whether this constitutes an abandonment of the pro-life cause in the middle of the field or the only possible decision at this stage to alert public opinion to the ongoing scandal, opinions differ on the choice made by the upper house.
One of the most delicate controversies concerns the freedom of conscience of health care institutions. The bill recognises an individual conscience clause for health care professionals but refuses to extend this protection to the institutions themselves. This distinction, which may have seemed technical at the start of the debates, has now taken on considerable significance. Hospitals run by religious orders or foundations whose health care mission is explicitly based on the refusal to cause death now fear being faced with an impossible choice: to either accept within their walls a practice they consider incompatible with their identity or to cease operating. Several leaders in the Catholic hospital sector are already raising the spectre of an unprecedented threat to pluralism in the French hospital system. The issue thus extends far beyond the purely religious sphere: it raises the question of a liberal democracy’s capacity to recognise the existence of institutions pursuing a mission in the public interest whilst retaining their own distinct identity. Some institutions are already raising the prospect of having to leave French soil, which would obviously undermine the diversity of care provision and bring to mind the dark days of militant anticlericalism that forced many religious orders to leave the country in the early 20th century.
Debates have also become heated regarding the role of certain institutions supposed to guarantee the neutrality of parliamentary procedure. The public statements made by the president of the National Assembly, Yaël Braun-Pivet, have drawn unusual criticism. By publicly welcoming the adoption of the bill and expressing her personal commitment to this reform, she appeared less as the arbiter of the debates than as one of their protagonists, even though her role should normally require her to maintain a degree of neutrality, regardless of her personal convictions.
Added to this impression was the high-profile intervention by the Grand Orient de France. In a statement published on June 25th, France’s leading Masonic order explicitly called on parliamentarians to adopt the bill, presenting it as a step forward for individual freedom, dignity, and secularism—proving, if proof were needed, that the legalisation of euthanasia is part of a global agenda that is unfolding while effortlessly circumventing democratic institutions.
The reform’s proponents had hoped to enshrine ‘assisted dying’ as a development now regarded as a natural progression of our law—an inevitable ‘progress.’ The past few months have shown, on the contrary, that this development continues to provoke substantial objections, which stem neither from principled conservatism nor from marginal opposition but which challenge a well-oiled progressive argument by highlighting the non-negotiable imperative to protect the most vulnerable and to uphold freedom of conscience.
Barring any surprises, the vote on July 15th should bring the legislative process to a close. It is unlikely, however, to put an end to the political debate. A law can be definitively adopted without being fully accepted; what was intended to be one of the symbolic victories of Emmanuel Macron’s presidency will remain in people’s minds as a gaping wound, poorly treated and poorly healed.
