Indi Gregory is dead.
If you have not been following her story, Indi was an 8-month-old infant in England who had sustained brain damage from mitochondrial disease. Fox News reports that she died Monday morning under hospice care. Indi’s parents had fought to keep her alive, hoping that experimental treatments might prolong her life.
The Italian government even stepped in and granted Indi citizenship and the opportunity to be treated at the Bambino Gesu Children’s Hospital in Rome. That would have taken the matter out of the hands of the British officials, who had mandated that Indi’s life would be terminated. The British government said no. Indi’s parents reportedly wanted to bring her home to pass away among friends and family. But under the auspices and arrogance of socialized medicine and the official algorithm, the judges decided where and how Indi would die.
The point has been made that Indi’s case was hopeless and that seeking further treatment would have only prolonged her suffering. But as Stephen Green has pointed out elsewhere on these pages, Canada has been increasingly recommending assisted suicide as a cure for whatever ails you. And Canada is not the only country. Who determines the value of life and when it should be terminated? Some would say that Indi never had a chance. That may be true, but ask Joni Eareckson Tada about such matters.
About ten years ago, a couple I know had a baby girl. She was born with a heart defect known as Tetralogy of Fallot. Her chances were slim from the start, and she began life with a stay in the NICU. But by the grace of God, and thanks to the hands of a skilled surgeon, she is alive today. She is happy, energetic, and a sweet little girl. She originally aspired to be a veterinarian. Now she has plans to become a chef. Had she been born in Britain today, would her surgery have been denied to her? Will the future surgeries she needs be denied to her, even here in the States? Such an eventuality is not outside the realm of reality.
Writing for The Free Press, Rupa Subramanya notes that British police are kowtowing to mobs across the country. A man was arrested last month for posting a video in which he complained about the number of Palestinian flags appearing in his country. His language was a bit salty, but there was no reason to haul him away while turning a blind eye toward those chanting for the destruction of the Jews. Police also forced a Jewish non-profit to stop showing digital images of kidnapped Israeli children. Doing so was deemed to be a breach of the peace.
A Manchester officer was caught tearing down posters of Israeli children who had been taken hostage. The chief constable attributed the incident to a mistake. Amina Ahmed, a leadership coordinator at Scotland Yard posted the following on LinkedIn: “…if anyone openly agrees with the war in Gaza, they should be called out as Islamophobic and inciting hatred against Muslims.” London officers also stood around with their hands in their pockets as a “Pro-Palestinian” mob beat up Christian preacher and journalist Arul Velusamy.
In 2018 in Northern England, ex-cop Harry Miller posted some japes about transgenderism. He has a barely noticeable presence on X, but his insistence that he was born a mammal but identified as a fish was enough to merit a phone call from the police. Miller said that the officer told him, ‘We need to check your thinking.” Miller was later exonerated, but when the police are that concerned over a joke, it is well past midnight in England.
While it may be amusing to follow in the footsteps of Rush Limbaugh and create cute nicknames for these people, either abroad or at home, we do ourselves a disservice. These are not “wokies” or “Commiefornians.” We are not merely dealing with spoiled college students in mismatched clothes and garish eyeliner weeping on TikTok. We are not merely dealing with octogenarians fueled by box wine and the fumes of the ’60s. We are dealing with evil. And we need to recognize that and take it seriously.
To add a final, uncomfortable exclamation point to this piece, Subramanya writes that recently, police stood idly by at the Edinburgh Waverly train station as a “Pro-Palestinian” mob attacked a 78-year-old veteran whose “offense” was selling poppies for Remembrance Day. The members of the mob kicked and punched the man.
There is a cruel symmetry in that story. The tradition of wearing poppies in honor of those who died in war and current veterans goes back to the end of the First World War and is closely linked to the poem “In Flanders Fields” by John McCrae, a Canadian doctor who served on the Western Front.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Britain has all but fallen. The United States is not far behind. This is not a call to the sword, lest, like those on the Left, we find ourselves becoming that which we despise. But it is a call to speak and to stand.