Welcome to your suicide pod.
Nation First looks at how we are being targeted for death with a $20 euthanasia machine.
Dear friend,
How can anyone justify a device that makes it so easy—and so cheap—to die?
The Sarco suicide pod, now debuting in Switzerland, is doing just that, making death accessible for the price of a cup of coffee.
But who is it really targeting?
The Sarco suicide pod, marketed as a tool for a “peaceful death,” is actually a weapon targeting the vulnerable, making death disturbingly cheap and easy.
Philip Nitschke, the creator of Sarco, boasts about its simplicity, but the first scheduled user, a mentally ill woman, went missing after being deemed unfit to use it.
Critics, including Swiss evangelicals and Kevin Yuill, have condemned the device as a dangerous trivialisation of human life, exposing the dark reality of euthanasia.
Nitschke’s past, including a disturbing incident where he killed a dog as a teenager, foreshadows his current obsession with death, raising serious ethical concerns.
The fight against Sarco is a fight against a culture that increasingly disposes of those who are suffering, promoting death over care and compassion.
The Sarco capsule is not just a tool—it’s a weapon in the war against the vulnerable.
For just $20, a person can step into this 3D-printed, space-age death chamber, press a button, and within seconds, they are dead.
No doctor, no oversight, just nitrogen-induced hypoxia that leads to death in under 30 seconds.
Those behind this device, developed over 12 years and costing over $710,000, claim it’s about giving people control over their death.
But in reality, it’s about stripping away the sanctity of life, particularly for those who feel they have no other options.
Philip Nitschke aka Dr Death (even though he now has no medical license) is the mastermind behind Sarco, and describes this death trap as a “beautiful way” to die.
The process is chillingly simple: climb in, answer a few questions, press a button, and within two breaths, you start to lose consciousness.
In just five minutes, it’s all over.
Nitschke boasts that once the button is pressed, “there’s no way of going back.”
But this isn’t just about ending life—it’s about erasing hope.
The Sarco death pod has not been tested on humans or animals, yet people are already allegedly “queueing up” to use it.
But this is no triumph of technology, rather, it’s a failure of humanity.
The Last Resort, the group behind the commercialisation of device, insist that there are no legal obstacles in Switzerland to prevent its use.
But the capsule’s very existence has reignited the debate on assisted dying in Switzerland, with some cantons (States or provinces) raising legal and ethical objections.
Despite these concerns, the push to make death as easy as possible continues unabated. And all it takes is $20.
Nitschke claims he created the Sarco pod to offer what he calls a “peaceful, even euphoric death.”
But how can anyone trust the promise of a peaceful death when the first person scheduled to use the device—a 55-year-old woman with deteriorating mental health—was deemed unfit and subsequently went missing?
This raises serious concerns about the oversight and safety of such a device, especially for vulnerable individuals.
Nitschke’s own words reveal the dangerous reality of this device: “There is no panic, no choking.”
But there is also no humanity, no care, and no second chances.
Swiss evangelicals have rightly condemned this “Tesla of death,” reminding us that life is a gift from God, not something to be discarded on a whim.
Swiss evangelical Christian leaders has lambasted the Sarco pod as a dangerous trivialisation of human life, a tool that turns the sacred act of dying into a casual, mechanical process.
Their voice echoes the concerns of many who see this device for what it truly is—a grotesque parody of compassion, where death is sold as a solution rather than a last resort.
Critics of euthanasia, like Kevin Yuill, an emeritus professor of history and CEO of Humanists Against Assisted Suicide and Euthanasia, have condemned the Sarco pod.
Yuill has labeled it a “dystopian horror” that exposes the grim reality of euthanasia.
He argues that this death capsule lays bare the true nature of “assisted dying”—making death cheap, easy, and disturbingly accessible.
But perhaps the most chilling aspect of this death culture comes from Nitschke’s own past.
During a televised interview, Nitschke confessed to brutally killing his landlord’s dog as a teenager—his first “kill,” as he put it.
This was not an act of mercy, but a violent, grim action that foreshadows his current obsession with death.
Nitschke tried to strangle the dog, and when that failed, he slit its throat with a knife.
This horrific act of cruelty is disturbingly echoed in his later work with euthanasia, where life is treated with the same cold detachment as the life of that dog.
And the troubling case of Nancy Crick only adds to the horror.
Crick, a woman who believed she had terminal bowel cancer, ended her life with the support of Nitschke and others.
But after her death, an autopsy revealed that she had no visible sign of cancer.
She was suffering from a painful but non-terminal condition that might have been treatable.
Yet, under Nitschke’s guidance, she chose death, surrounded by 21 applauding supporters.
Nitschke dismissed the fact that she wasn’t terminally ill, saying that what mattered was her pain and desire to die.
But this raises deeply disturbing questions: Did a distressed woman take her life based on a misdiagnosis? And if so, what does this say about the dangers of legalising assisted suicide?
This isn’t just about one machine or one man.
Nitschke’s disregard for life is a recurring theme.
I saw it firsthand when, in 2009, he toured my hometown of Mackay, offering elderly people advice on how to suffocate themselves using a suicide device that was nothing more than a plastic bag over the head.
It was disturbing and unlawful, yet he stood there, presenting death as if it were a product.
I turned up to protest his death lecture, wearing a “Life. Be in it.” t-shirt, and I could see he was more than a little perturbed by my presence.
But I wasn’t going to let his vile message go unchallenged.
This fight isn’t just about one machine or one man.
It’s about a society increasingly willing to dispose of those who are struggling.
The Sarco isn’t just a death pod—it’s a symbol of a culture that has lost its way, where the solution to suffering is not care, but death.
This is where you come in.
It’s time to stand up against this culture of death.
Share this information, join the fight, and support those who value life.
Our humanity depends on it.
Until next time, God bless you, your family and nation.
Take care,
George Christensen, with a Nation First staff writer
George Christensen is a former Australian politician, a Christian, freedom lover, conservative, blogger, podcaster, journalist and theologian. He has been feted by the Epoch Times as a “champion of human rights” and his writings have been praised by Infowars’ Alex Jones as “excellent and informative”.
George believes Nation First will be an essential part of the ongoing fight for freedom:
“The time is now for every proud patriot to step to the fore and fight for our freedom, sovereignty and way of life. Information is a key tool in any battle and the Nation First newsletter will be a valuable tool in the battle for the future of the West.”
— George Christensen.
Find more about George at his www.georgechristensen.com.au website.
Nitschke is deranged and a totally evil creature. Well, the 'pod' he ends up in, there is no escape either. He'll be 'locked in' for all eternity and it wont be painless.
To make sure I wasn't wasting $20 I'd be asking Philip to demonstrate the pod first.