Vulnerability and Responsibility

Our Moral and Civic Duty to Those Who Cannot Defend Themselves

Sep 15, 2026

"For all of us who want the Allison Inquiry to be a significant, tangible step toward restoring human rights and the rule of law in Canada, I recommend this article by Dominique Fournier."

- Dr Mark Trozzi MD

Christ told us, “The poor you will always have with you.” Scripture repeatedly places before us those who are poor, weak, sick, fatherless, widowed, oppressed, forgotten or otherwise vulnerable, and reminds us that those who have the capacity to speak and act have a responsibility toward those who do not.

“Open your mouth in behalf of the mute, and for the rights of the destitute; open your mouth, judge justly, defend the needy and the poor!” (Proverbs 31:8–9). Christ makes that responsibility personal when He tells us, “Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). Vulnerability imposes responsibility, not merely private charity, but a moral and civic duty to protect those who are incapable, or less capable, of caring for or defending themselves.

This question of vulnerability and our responsibility toward the vulnerable was anything but abstract during COVID. In 2023, the National Citizens Inquiry, a citizen-led initiative, began holding public hearings to provide a platform for Canadians who had navigated several years of fear, uncertainty, social isolation, institutional pressure and profound disruption to their families, livelihoods and communities. Psychologist Mattias Desmet has argued that conditions such as social isolation, loss of meaning and what he calls “free-floating” anxiety can leave populations particularly vulnerable to mass formation and to narratives that provide both an object for that anxiety and a prescribed response.[1] Desmet highlights the vulnerability created by fear and social dislocation which deserves serious consideration when examining what happened during the COVID years.

It was within this context that the NCI began hearing directly from Canadians about their experiences with public institutions, alongside scientific and professional testimony concerning policy, legislation, regulations, mandatory medical interventions and much more. The question was therefore larger than simply what happened during COVID. It was whether institutions entrusted with enormous power over a population experiencing fear, uncertainty and vulnerability could reasonably be expected to investigate their own decisions, acknowledge harms resulting from those decisions and hold themselves accountable.

The NCI chose a citizen-led process. Canadians and experts testified under oath before independent Commissioners. Their testimony was preserved as part of a public record. The Commissioners examined the evidence and produced findings and recommendations. In their final report they called upon Canadians to “embrace the responsibility that comes with citizenship,” to hold government accountable, and to support “the most vulnerable among us.”[2] Those words matter because they speak directly to the duty that comes with power, whether that power belongs to governments, institutions or citizens themselves.

This past week, an event called the “Allison Inquiry” spent four days hearing testimony about injuries following COVID-19 vaccination. It was promoted as the first time Canadian lawmakers would listen to Canadians about their experiences with the COVID-19 vaccines.[3] That is a more precise claim than saying these harms had never before been made public, because they had. The Allison Inquiry’s own promotional material acknowledges the National Citizens Inquiry and the evidence it heard concerning COVID-19 and vaccine injuries.

What we did see was, in significant measure, a repeat of testimony and witnesses already familiar from the NCI. By my count, roughly 32 percent of the Allison witnesses had previously testified at NCI hearings. Granted, one could say, “But they were bringing new evidence.” Fair enough. Did that new evidence materially change what was already known? Did it alter the conclusions reached by the NCI Commissioners? Did it lead lawmakers toward action that could not have been taken after the evidence collected three years ago? We will see.

Perhaps that is the real question. Will this result in a net gain or a net loss for the vulnerable people who testified? Will those who relived their injuries, losses and trauma finally receive the justice they are seeking? Those who testified before the NCI three years ago are still waiting for political institutions to meaningfully engage with the evidence, findings and recommendations already placed before them. The Allison Inquiry’s own Terms of Reference state that it will make no findings of fact or conclusions, while leaving any referral of questions to Parliament entirely optional.[4] So what, then, is the end game?

My reflection here, however, goes deeper than the differences between these two events. My question is this: can we reasonably expect a political culture that has failed in its duty toward vulnerable human life for decades to suddenly become the instrument through which another group of vulnerable Canadians receives justice?

Since the 1988 Morgentaler decision struck down Canada’s Criminal Code abortion provisions, Parliament has left a legislative vacuum by failing to enact a replacement criminal prohibition on abortion.[5] For nearly four decades, in utero human life has remained outside that protection. At the other end of life, Canada has nurtured a culture in which intentionally ending the life of a person who is suffering is presented as medical care. I see this as an inevitable outcome resulting from decades of indifference to life in utero, an argument I made in previous Substacks and first developed in my master’s thesis, Individual Interests and Moral Integrity: A Contemporary Debate on Abortion, written in 1993.[6]

The moral challenge is not whether someone is close enough to natural death for assisted death to become acceptable. The deeper and more concerning problem is what it says about us when suffering, disability, dependence, loneliness or despair can be answered with death rather than with an unwavering commitment to care for and protect the person who is vulnerable. Unless Parliament changes the law, that same logic is scheduled to extend on March 17, 2027, to people whose sole underlying medical condition is mental illness.[7]

So my question is not abstract. What does our political culture actually reveal about the value it places on vulnerable human life? Scripture reveals that those in authority are expected to “defend the lowly and fatherless; render justice to the afflicted and needy. Rescue the lowly and poor” (Psalm 82:3–4). The challenge, then, is to the men and women who sought and won a place at the “table”: are you there to serve, or are you there to dictate? Are you willing to do what is right, good and just, or are you simply seeking to ensure your tenure at the expense of the lives of others and, ultimately, your eternal soul?

The vulnerable cannot become liabilities to be managed. Human worth cannot depend upon whether someone is wanted, productive, inexpensive to care for, politically convenient or able to fight for himself. When human life becomes costly, inconvenient or burdensome, the temptation for systems is always to look for the easiest solution. That is precisely why the vulnerable require protection.

This is also why I struggle with the expectation that the same political machinery responsible for policies that caused harm will somehow, on its own, become the source of justice for the people harmed by those policies. The NCI Commissioners described their work as a pursuit of “truth, justice, and accountability.”[2] They did not simply hear testimony. They examined evidence, reached findings and produced recommendations, a distinction that is not parenthetical.

Listening matters. Witnessing matters. Giving people a voice matters, but after the listening comes responsibility. After the testimony comes discernment. After the evidence comes the obligation to determine what happened, who was harmed, what must change and what justice requires. Otherwise, what exactly are we asking wounded people to relive their suffering for?

So was the Allison event a worthy endeavour? I suppose that depends upon what we mean by worthy. If by a worthy endeavour we mean one that draws public attention to the suffering of vaccine-injured Canadians, allows them to speak before lawmakers and reminds the country that these people exist and deserve to be heard, then yes, there was value in that. But if by a worthy endeavour we mean something that will result in fruitful action toward justice, accountability and moral rectitude, then four days of testimony cannot be the measure. The measure will be what happens next.

What will the MPs and Senators who listened actually do? Will they read the evidence already gathered? Will they engage with the NCI Commissioners’ findings and recommendations? Will they place those matters before Parliament? Will they demand accountability from institutions? Will they pursue remedies for those who have been injured? Will they protect Canadians from the repetition of the same failures? Or will we simply congratulate ourselves because, for four days, everyone talked about how terrible the suffering was and is, and then move on?

So now what? We are still expecting the political machinery that authorized and defended these interventions to provide justice for those who were harmed by them. We are asking institutions that have demonstrated profound moral inconsistency in their protection of vulnerable human life to suddenly recognize vulnerability as imposing an obligation. How reasonable is that expectation? Isaiah’s warning to those who wield public power is severe: “Woe to those who enact unjust statutes and who write oppressive decrees, depriving the needy of judgment and robbing my people’s poor of justice” (Isaiah 10:1–2).

I pray for the poor souls who had to relive their trauma again last week, and I pray that their courage in doing so bears real fruit. I pray for those who testified before the NCI three years ago and are still waiting. I pray for the unborn. I pray for the sick, the disabled, the elderly, the suffering, the mentally ill, the abandoned and every person who finds himself dependent upon others to recognize that his life has value.

I pray for a nation that has marginalized vulnerable human life and too often done so without consequences it appears willing to recognize. I pray that the God of all goodness brings His justice upon this land with such force and clarity that we finally understand that justice is not optional, truth is not negotiable, and how we treat the least among us is ultimately a judgment upon us all. He is a just God, and eternity is a long time. I pray for Canada, for real healing and for real justice.

“You have been told, O mortal, what is good, and what the Lord requires of you: only to do justice and to love goodness, and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)