Will more choice help us through the maze?

Patients will want to take the path that leads them to the healthcare that they want, at a time when

Choice is often touted as a panacea. If you give people the power to choose you make them responsible for their own destiny rather than treating them like commodities on a conveyor belt.

But what use is having an array of options if you don't understand the consequences of your selection? Healthcare, and the bureaucracy that shapes it, changes swiftly and it takes an astute, almost abnormally interested individual to keep track of the various bodies operating in one's local NHS, let alone at national level. There are primary care trusts, hospital trusts, community trusts, foundation trusts - and most recently, "super surgeries", or polyclinics, which are being built in certain areas to give patients far greater access to healthcare services.

Alongside all of these alternatives, pharmacies are being recommended as places for patients to go to seek medical help for what they perceive are minor problems. The press that surrounds the promotion of pharmacies is mixed: some say the advice given is inadequate, others concur that another avenue for people to obtain healthcare guidance can only be a good thing.

Of course, it's a no-brainer that greater access to healthcare is beneficial, especially in overcrowded or remote areas. But how are members of the public meant to know which source of medical advice is most appropriate for them? Joe and Jane Public may have an inkling as to what constitutes "primary" care, but as the boundaries change and services that used to be hospital-based are offered in new settings, confusion is likely to result in them resorting to visiting the most familiar setting: the GP surgery - if they can get an appointment - or, at the weekend and evenings, A&E. The NHS Direct helpline earns praise and criticism, with negative comments along the lines of, "They just told me to see my GP", to positive accounts of lives being saved thanks to timely advice being dispensed.

Seeing a door marked “consulting area” in a pharmacy helps to embed the idea that asking advice is expected, is welcome

There is no obvious consistency when it comes to the healthcare facilities in area A or B. Why should patients know that a pharmacy is linked to the local GP practice, which in turn falls under the aegis of the primary care trust (PCT)? They may view the pharmacy solely as somewhere to pick up some paracetamol and toiletries, failing to appreciate that the pharmacist can offer far more than a swift exchange of prescription docket for packets of pills and ointments.

Indeed, if patients have only ever used their pharmacist as a post-GP stop-off to collect new medication, they need to be made aware that the professionals behind the counter can provide a range of guidance. Some pharmacies - the major chains - have installed quiet booths within which consultations can take place away from the other shoppers. Seeing a door marked "consulting area" in a pharmacy helps to embed the idea that asking advice is expected, is welcome, and is not an added extra that interrupts the flow of pharmacy life.

However, while some patients will feel confident enough to seek advice from their pharmacist, either because they trust them or are aware that dispensing advice is the done thing, others prefer the continuity afforded them through their GP. The same principle applies when considering the move to polyclinics. People value the connections they cultivate with various health professionals. These relationships are intimate and are not to be underestimated, as they can drive individuals towards, or away from, particular sources of healthcare.

That said, the problem remains that, when someone approaches a pharmacist for advice, they are perhaps relying on diagnostic skills being better than the profession demands. This is not to denigrate the pharmacist in any way, but pharmacists lack the medical training and records that GPs have at their fingertips, so is it not imperative that the two professions work closely to deal with patients in a mutually accepted, consistent manner, referring to each other when necessary?

Where there are numerous healthcare options available, all parties must collaborate, not compete. This will help make it obvious to the layman or woman that these seemingly disparate parts of NHS healthcare fall under one umbrella, that they communicate, access common information (that is safely and accurately maintained) and are working together to drive up health standards by putting patients at the centre of all decisions. Only when all the potential participants in a person's quest to achieve good health are integrated can people be successfully guided through the maze of options available to them. Who does what, where, why, and how, will become obvious through good practice.

It doesn’t matter to patients that a procedure once carried out in a hospital outpatients department is now taken care of at their local GP practice

The NHS, an unquestionably mammoth, dynamic organisation, will seldom be transparent to the average patient but, if further entry points are introduced to the system that merely serve to compound confusion, this would be a missed opportunity to truly widen access. Yes, in the short term, seven-days-a-week health centres will benefit those who cannot take time off work to see their GP, or who cannot wait the best part of a day to have a routine blood test carried out. However, there will be gaps or duplications in commissioning and priorities that would be shamefully senseless in an environment where money is tight and the ultimate goal of high-quality patient care is common.

It doesn't matter to patients that a procedure once carried out in a hospital outpatients department is now taken care of at their local GP practice. No one bothers - and neither should they - that funding for a health check comes from primary, rather than secondary care coffers. As far as the taxpayer is concerned, they are paying for the lot.

People will take the path that gives them what they need when they need it. If that means going to A&E because their GP practice has unacceptably lengthy waiting times, so be it. It doesn't have to be that way but patients may not know any different and, until they do (which is the responsibility of NHS providers), change may be hard fought and "choice" may simply equate to confusion.

Joy Persaud is a freelance journalist and can be reached here.

This article first appeared in the 03 November 2008 issue of the New Statesman, Israel v Hamas

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The French millennials marching behind Marine Le Pen

A Front National rally attracts former socialists with manicured beards, and a lesbian couple. 

“In 85 days, Marine will be President of the French Republic!” The 150-strong crowd cheered at the sound of the words. On stage, the speaker, the vice-president of the far-right Front National (FN), Florian Philippot, continued: “We will be told that it’s the apocalypse, by the same banks, media, politicians, who were telling the British that Brexit would be an immediate catastrophe.

"Well, they voted, and it’s not! The British are much better off than we are!” The applause grew louder and louder. 

I was in the medieval city of Metz, in a municipal hall near the banks of the Moselle River, a tributary of the Rhine from which the region takes its name. The German border lies 49km east; Luxembourg City is less than an hour’s drive away. This is the "Country of the Three Borders", equidistant from Strasbourg and Frankfurt, and French, German and French again after various wars. Yet for all that local history is deeply rooted in the wider European history, votes for the Front National rank among the highest nationally, and continue to rise at every poll. 

In rural Moselle, “Marine”, as the Front National leader Marine Le Pen is known, has an envoy. In 2014, the well-spoken, elite-educated Philippot, 35, ran for mayor in Forbach, a former miner’s town near the border. He lost to the Socialist candidate but has visited regularly since. Enough for the locals to call him “Florian".

I grew up in a small town, Saint-Avold, halfway between Metz and Forbach. When my grandfather was working in the then-prosperous coal mines, the Moselle region attracted many foreign workers. Many of my fellow schoolmates bore Italian and Polish surnames. But the last mine closed in 2004, and now, some of the immigrants’ grandchildren are voting for the National Front.

Returning, I can't help but wonder: How did my generation, born with the Maastricht treaty, end up turning to the Eurosceptic, hard right FN?

“We’ve seen what the other political parties do – it’s always the same. We must try something else," said Candice Bertrand, 23, She might not be part of the group asking Philippot for selfies, but she had voted FN at every election, and her family agreed. “My mum was a Communist, then voted for [Nicolas] Sarkozy, and now she votes FN. She’s come a long way.”  The way, it seemed, was political distrust.

Minutes earlier, Philippot had pleaded with the audience to talk to their relatives and neighbours. Bertrand had brought her girlfriend, Lola, whom she was trying to convince to vote FN.  Lola wouldn’t give her surname – her strongly left-wing family would “certainly not” like to know she was there. She herself had never voted.

This infuriated Bertrand. “Women have fought for the right to vote!” she declared. Daily chats with Bertrand and her family had warmed up Lola to voting Le Pen in the first round, although not yet in the second. “I’m scared of a major change,” she confided, looking lost. “It’s a bit too extreme.” Both were too young to remember 2002, when a presidential victory for the then-Front National leader Jean-Marie Le Pen, was only a few percentage points away.

Since then, under the leadership of his daughter, Marine, the FN has broken every record. But in this region, the FN’s success isn’t new. In 2002, when liberal France was shocked to see Le Pen reach the second round of the presidential election, the FN was already sailing in Moselle. Le Pen grabbed 23.7 per cent of the Moselle vote in the first round and 21.9 per cent in the second, compared to 16.9 per cent and 17.8 per cent nationally. 

The far-right vote in Moselle remained higher than the national average before skyrocketing in 2012. By then, the younger, softer-looking Marine had taken over the party. In that year, the FN won an astonishing 24.7 per cent of the Moselle vote, and 17.8 per cent nationwide.

For some people of my generation, the FN has already provided opportunities. With his manicured beard and chic suit, Emilien Noé still looks like the Young Socialist he was between 16 and 18 years old. But looks can be deceiving. “I have been disgusted by the internal politics at the Socialist Party, the lack of respect for the low-ranked campaigners," he told me. So instead, he stood as the FN’s youngest national candidate to become mayor in his village, Gosselming, in 2014. “I entered directly into action," he said. (He lost). Now, at just 21, Noé is the FN’s youth coordinator for Eastern France.

Metz, Creative Commons licence credit Morgaine

Next to him stood Kevin Pfeiffer, 27. He told me he used to believe in the Socialist ideal, too - in 2007, as a 17-year-old, he backed Ségolène Royal against Sarkozy. But he is now a FN local councillor and acts as the party's general co-ordinator in the region. Both Noé and Pfeiffer radiated a quiet self-confidence, the sort that such swift rises induces. They shared a deep respect for the young-achiever-in-chief: Philippot. “We’re young and we know we can have perspectives in this party without being a graduate of l’ENA,” said another activist, Olivier Musci, 24. (The elite school Ecole Nationale d’Administration, or ENA, is considered something of a mandatory finishing school for politicians. It counts Francois Hollande and Jacques Chirac among its alumni. Ironically, Philippot is one, too.)

“Florian” likes to say that the FN scores the highest among the young. “Today’s youth have not grown up in a left-right divide”, he told me when I asked why. “The big topics, for them, were Maastricht, 9/11, the Chinese competition, and now Brexit. They have grown up in a political world structured around two poles: globalism versus patriotism.” Notably, half his speech was dedicated to ridiculing the FN's most probably rival, the maverick centrist Emmanuel Macron. “It is a time of the nations. Macron is the opposite of that," Philippot declared. 

At the rally, the blue, red and white flame, the FN’s historic logo, was nowhere to be seen. Even the words “Front National” had deserted the posters, which were instead plastered with “in the name of the people” slogans beneath Marine’s name and large smile. But everyone wears a blue rose at the buttonhole. “It’s the synthesis between the left’s rose and the right’s blue colour”, Pfeiffer said. “The symbol of the impossible becoming possible.” So, neither left nor right? I ask, echoing Macron’s campaign appeal. “Or both left and right”, Pfeiffer answered with a grin.

This nationwide rebranding follows years of efforts to polish the party’s jackass image, forged by decades of xenophobic, racist and anti-Semitic declarations by Le Pen Sr. His daughter evicted him from the party in 2015.

Still, Le Pen’s main pledges revolve around the same issue her father obsessed over - immigration. The resources spent on "dealing with migrants" will, Le Pen promises, be redirected to address the concerns of "the French people". Unemployment, which has been hovering at 10 per cent for years, is very much one of them. Moselle's damaged job market is a booster for the FN - between 10 and 12 per cent of young people are unemployed.

Yet the two phenomena cannot always rationally be linked. The female FN supporters I met candidly admitted they drove from France to Luxembourg every day for work and, like many locals, often went shopping in Germany. Yet they hoped to see the candidate of “Frexit” enter the Elysee palace in May. “We've never had problems to work in Luxembourg. Why would that change?” asked Bertrand. (Le Pen's “144 campaign pledges” promise frontier workers “special measures” to cross the border once out of the Schengen area, which sounds very much like the concept of the Schengen area itself.)

Grégoire Laloux, 21, studied history at the University of Metz. He didn't believe in the European Union. “Countries have their own interests. There are people, but no European people,” he said. “Marine is different because she defends patriotism, sovereignty, French greatness and French history.” He compared Le Pen to Richelieu, the cardinal who made Louis XIV's absolute monarchy possible:  “She, too, wants to build a modern state.”

French populists are quick to link the country's current problems to immigration, and these FN supporters were no exception. “With 7m poor and unemployed, we can't accept all the world's misery,” Olivier Musci, 24, a grandchild of Polish and Italian immigrants, told me. “Those we welcome must serve the country and be proud to be here.”

Lola echoed this call for more assimilation. “At our shopping centre, everyone speaks Arabic now," she said. "People have spat on us, thrown pebbles at us because we're lesbians. But I'm in my country and I have the right to do what I want.” When I asked if the people who attacked them were migrants, she was not so sure. “Let's say, they weren't white.”

Trump promised to “Make America Great Again”. To where would Le Pen's France return? Would it be sovereign again? White again? French again? Ruled by absolutism again? She has blurred enough lines to seduce voters her father never could – the young, the gay, the left-wingers. At the end of his speech, under the rebranded banners, Philippot invited the audience to sing La Marseillaise with him. And in one voice they did: “To arms citizens! Form your battalions! March, march, let impure blood, water our furrows...” The song is the same as the one I knew growing up. But it seemed to me, this time, a more sinister tune.