The Mid-Staffordshire inquiry: where there’s a political will, there’s a way

There are interesting parallels between the Francis report and the Macpherson inquiry report into the death of the black teenager Stephen Lawrence.

We hope and expect that implementation of our Recommendations will ensure that the opportunity for radical thinking and root and branch action is seized. Nothing less will satisfy us and all those who so passionately spoke to us during our hearings

These words are not taken from the long-awaited Francis report, but rather from the Macpherson inquiry report (1999) into the death of the black teenager Stephen Lawrence on a south London street in 1993.  

There are a number of interesting parallels between the Francis and Macpherson reports. Both followed lengthy inquiries into specific incidents involving local "branches" of much wider public services - the Metropolitan Police and Mid Staffordshire NHS Foundation Trust. Each inquiry team was exhaustive in the way it examined the evidence presented to it. Both reports provide a damning analysis of unjustifiable operational, management and systems failings.

Arguably, the real significance of both reports is not simply what they told us about the individual public services concerned, but rather what they revealed about society and our expectations of key public services.  The true relevance of the Francis report is not simply limited to the relatively small number of NHS hospitals; rather, its findings will impact across the whole health and social care system. Just as the Macpherson inquiry report led to systemic changes within the Metropolitan Police and all other police forces, so Francis must trigger a recalibration of all health and social care services, regardless of location, size or the type of organisation providing the service.

All organisations which deliver health and social care services would be wise to spend the next few days and weeks determining what the report’s 290 recommendations mean for their services and the people they care for. Just as it is not possible to read Francis’ weighty report in a single sitting, so it will take a significant period of time for all of us to get our heads around what we need to do as a result.  

The thing which ultimately determines whether such a report sinks or floats; whether its recommendations are fully implemented or gather dust on the shelves alongside so many other reports down the years is political will. The primary reason why people remember the Macpherson report is because the government of the day took its lessons and not only ensured that they triggered change in the Metropolitan Police and the wider police service, but also legislated to ensure that, through the Race Relations Act 2000 (Amendment) and the Race Equality Duty, it led to more wholesale changes to the way all public authorities addressed the issues it raised.

The proposals set out in the Francis report are wide-ranging and ambitious. They include a shift to more patient centred services, an emphasis on zero harm, renewed stress on transparency, fundamental challenges to professional practice and priorities and a wholesale rebalancing of regulation across the health and social care system. The sheer number of recommendations means that it cannot possibly succeed without robust political backing. Day one, at least, suggests that such political will might just exist. The Prime Minister’s decision to deliver the government’s formal response underlined the importance of this issue and hopefully underscores the degree of political commitment to implementing its recommendations.  The Prime Minister’s response made clear that the government is pushing ahead to deal with a number of issues raised by the report.  He has asked Don Berwick to examine how the NHS can implement a "zero harm" approach and Sir Bruce Keogh is reviewing the five NHS Trusts with the highest mortality rates; small steps, but a start nonetheless. The real work and the true test will come over the coming months. Change will require major decisions about the introduction of a statutory Duty of Candour, a fundamental rebalancing of priorities, major shifts in nursing and other care services and a reorganisation of the regulatory landscape with a likely shift in powers between Monitor and the Care Quality Commission and other regulatory bodies.  

The next few months will determine whether there is the political will required to push through the raft of changes to attitudes, perceptions, responses, professional norms and working practices set out by the Francis report. It will also help determine whether, like Macpherson before it, the Francis report is destined to be cited for years to come as a real agent of change, or whether it has more in common with other authoritative reports which have been delayed or simply disappeared from view because of a lack of political will or the absence of a cross-party consensus.     

Dr Phil McCarvill is Head of Policy at Marie Curie Cancer Care
 

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I can’t follow Marie Kondo's advice – even an empty Wotsits packet “sparks joy” in me

I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I have been brooding lately on the Japanese tidying freak Marie Kondo. (I forgot her name so I typed “Japanese tidying freak” into Google, and it was a great help.) The “Japanese” bit is excusable in this context, and explains a bit, as I gather Japan is more on the case with the whole “being tidy” thing than Britain, but still.

Apart from telling us that we need to take an enormous amount of care, to the point where we perform origami when we fold our underpants, which is pretty much where she lost me, she advises us to throw away anything that does not, when you hold it, “spark joy”. Perhaps I have too much joy in my life. I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

After a while I gave up on this because I was getting a bit too happy with all the memories, so then I thought to myself, about her: “This is someone who isn’t getting laid enough,” and then I decided that was a crude and ungallant thought, and besides, who am I to wag the finger? At least if she invites someone to her bedroom no one is going to run screaming from it, as they would if I invited anyone to my boudoir. (Etym: from the French “bouder”, to sulk. How very apt in my case.) Marie Kondo – should bizarre circumstance ever conspire to bring her to the threshold – would run screaming from the Hovel before she’d even alighted the stairs from the front door.

I contemplate my bedroom. As I write, the cleaning lady is in it. To say that I have to spend half an hour cleaning out empty Wotsits packets, and indeed wotnot, before I let her in there should give you some idea of how shameful it has got. And even then I have to pay her to do so.

A girlfriend who used to be referred to often in these pages, though I think the term should be a rather less flippant one than “girlfriend”, managed to get round my natural messiness problem by inventing a game called “keep or chuck”.

She even made up a theme song for it, to the tune from the old Spiderman TV show. She would show me some object, which was not really rubbish, but usually a book (it may not surprise you to learn that it is the piles of books that cause most of the clutter here), and say, “Keep or chuck?” in the manner of a high-speed game show host. At one point I vacillated and so she then pointed at herself and said, “Keep or chuck?” I got the message.

These days the chances of a woman getting into the bedroom are remote. For one thing, you can’t just walk down the street and whistle for one much as one would hail a cab, although my daughter is often baffled by my ability to attract females, and suspects I have some kind of “mind ray”. Well, if I ever did it’s on the blink now, and not only that – right now, I’m not even particularly bothered that it’s on the blink. Because, for another thing, I would frankly not care to inflict myself upon anyone else at the moment.

It was all a bit of a giggle eight years ago, when I was wheeled out of the family home and left to my own devices. Of course, when I say “a bit of a giggle”, I mean “terrifying and miserable”, but I had rather fewer miles on the clock than I do now, and a man can, I think, get away with a little bit more scampish behaviour, and entertain a few more illusions about the future and his own plausibility as a character, when he is squarely in his mid-forties than when he is approaching, at speed, his middle fifties.

Death has rather a lot to do with it, I suppose. I had not actually seen, or touched, a dead body until I saw, and touched, my own father’s a few weeks ago. That’s what turns an abstract into a concrete reality. You finally put that to one side and gird up your loins – and then bloody David Bowie snuffs it, and you find yourself watching the videos for “Blackstar” and “Lazarus” over and over again, and reach the inescapable conclusion that death is not only incredibly unpleasant, it is also remorseless and very much nearer than you think.

And would you, dear reader, want to be involved with anyone who kept thinking along those lines? I mean, even if he learned how to fold his undercrackers into an upright cylinder, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant, before putting them in his drawer? When he doesn’t even have a drawer?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war