Targets. They hurt, but (sometimes) they work

A u-turn on NHS waiting times shows the Conservatives have realised how hard it is getting things do

The Guardian reports today that the government has been forced to re-instate something resembling the old target for waiting times. Labour imposed a limit of 18 weeks as the maximum amount a patient should have to wait for an operation. The target was scrapped by Health Secretary Andrew Lansley since it represented an "arbitrary", "top down" bureaucratic approach. This, it was imagined, would be unnecessary because reforms would deliver a newly efficient, ultra-responsive market in health care in which patients' needs would be accommodated by the profusion of competing providers. Clearly, things aren't quite working out that way and a modified version of the 18-week limit will be back in place in the New Year.

The Conservatives in opposition were routinely scathing about targets, which, they argued, skewed outcomes by creating perverse incentives. Plainly this was true some of the time. A target of holding down waiting times in accident and emergency wards, for example, sometimes resulted in patients simply being sent away. And there is no doubt that New Labour came to rely too much on targets across Whitehall as a way to force the civil service to deliver what had been pledged by ministers, which was demoralising for the departments and skewed priorities.

But the reason Labour used targets so freely was because there weren't many other ways to make civil servants focus relentlessly on the government's priorities. They worked.

Many Conservatives in opposition persuaded themselves that Labour simply liked being bossy and controlling because that is what statist lefties do. I remember a conversation with a shadow minister (now a minister) before the election who told me with pride how he had deliberately not written any performance measures into a policy green paper because the Tory way was to create incentives and trust people, not to regulate them with targets. And what if the incentives aren't taken up? I asked. "We'll come up with better incentives."

In the early days of the coalition, a number of senior civil servants reported being told by incoming Tory ministers that the kind of measurements and targets that had previously been used to check performance in the system were no longer required because "that's not how we do things." It was an ideological shibboleth.

18 months into government, ministers are now finding - as was predictable - that without targets and specific performance measures, policies and pledges get lost in the system. Crudely speaking, unless someone is leaning down hard from above asking hard questions about why targets aren't met, nothing seems to happen. The appalling word that Downing Street under Tony Blair used to use for this stuff was "deliverology" - the art (or science, depending on your point of view) of actually getting things done in government.

It is becoming increasingly clear that David Cameron, with his predilection for presidential floating above the fray, has neglected this area. Steve Hilton, his policy chief, is constantly exercised by it but he tends to think the problem lies in all forms of bureaucracy and civil servants not being dynamic, professional or generally enough like private sector entrepreneurs feverishly making change happen like a bunch of Berkeley graduates building a start-up social enterprise in a San Francisco garage. Maybe it would be nice if Whitehall mandarins were a bit more like that. But it isn't going to happen soon. So for the time being, it looks like it has to be targets.

Of course, this government isn't entirely hostile to the idea of setting arbitrary benchmarks for performance. It is committed to bringing annual net migration down to below 100,000. When the public get really cross about something, out come the targets. That tells us something about the u-turn on operation waiting times. Clearly ministers are very nervous about the growing backlash against changes in the NHS.

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

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The deafening killer - why noise will be the next great pollution scandal

A growing body of evidence shows that noise can have serious health impacts too. 

Our cities are being poisoned by a toxin that surrounds us day and night. It eats away at our brains, hurts our hearts, clutches at our sleep, and gnaws at the quality of our daily lives.

Hardly a silent killer, it gets short shrift compared to the well-publicised terrors of air pollution and sugars food. It is the dull, thumping, stultifying drum-beat of perpetual noise.

The score that accompanies city life is brutal and constant. It disrupts the everyday: The coffee break ruined by the screech of a line of double decker buses braking at the lights. The lawyer’s conference call broken by drilling as she makes her way to the office. The writer’s struggle to find a quiet corner to pen his latest article.

For city-dwellers, it’s all-consuming and impossible to avoid. Construction, traffic, the whirring of machinery, the neighbour’s stereo. Even at home, the beeps and buzzes made by washing machines, fridges, and phones all serve to distract and unsettle.

But the never-ending noisiness of city life is far more than a problem of aesthetics. A growing body of evidence shows that noise can have serious health impacts too. Recent studies have linked noise pollution to hearing loss, sleep deprivation, hypertension, heart disease, brain development, and even increased risk of dementia.

One research team compared families living on different stories of the same building in Manhattan to isolate the impact of noise on health and education. They found children in lower, noisier floors were worse at reading than their higher-up peers, an effect that was most pronounced for children who had lived in the building for longest.

Those studies have been replicated for the impact of aircraft noise with similar results. Not only does noise cause higher blood pressure and worsens quality of sleep, it also stymies pupils trying to concentrate in class.

As with many forms of pollution, the poorest are typically the hardest hit. The worst-off in any city often live by busy roads in poorly-insulated houses or flats, cheek by jowl with packed-in neighbours.

The US Department of Transport recently mapped road and aircraft noise across the United States. Predictably, the loudest areas overlapped with some of the country’s most deprived. Those included the south side of Atlanta and the lowest-income areas of LA and Seattle.

Yet as noise pollution grows in line with road and air traffic and rising urban density, public policy has turned a blind eye.

Council noise response services, formally a 24-hour defence against neighbourly disputes, have fallen victim to local government cuts. Decisions on airport expansion and road development pay scant regard to their audible impact. Political platforms remain silent on the loudest poison.

This is odd at a time when we have never had more tools at our disposal to deal with the issue. Electric Vehicles are practically noise-less, yet noise rarely features in the arguments for their adoption. Just replacing today’s bus fleet would transform city centres; doing the same for taxis and trucks would amount to a revolution.

Vehicles are just the start. Millions were spent on a programme of “Warm Homes”; what about “Quiet Homes”? How did we value the noise impact in the decision to build a third runway at Heathrow, and how do we compensate people now that it’s going ahead?

Construction is a major driver of decibels. Should builders compensate “noise victims” for over-drilling? Or could regulation push equipment manufacturers to find new ways to dampen the sound of their kit?

Of course, none of this addresses the noise pollution we impose on ourselves. The bars and clubs we choose to visit or the music we stick in our ears. Whether pumping dance tracks in spin classes or indie rock in trendy coffee shops, people’s desire to compensate for bad noise out there by playing louder noise in here is hard to control for.

The Clean Air Act of 1956 heralded a new era of city life, one where smog and grime gave way to clear skies and clearer lungs. That fight still goes on today.

But some day, we will turn our attention to our clogged-up airwaves. The decibels will fall. #Twitter will give way to twitter. And every now and again, as we step from our homes into city life, we may just hear the sweetest sound of all. Silence.

Adam Swersky is a councillor in Harrow and is cabinet member for finance. He writes in a personal capacity.