Labour recognises that it could end up closing hospitals too

The party's plan to integrate health and social care makes sense fiscally and clinically but the politics could be more difficult to navigate.

Up to a point, the politics of the NHS are easy for Labour. No one doubts the strength of feeling towards the health service in the party that built it. By contrast, many voters suspect the Tories wish it harm, which is why an oath of allegiance to the NHS was a central part of David Cameron’s attempt to “decontaminate” his party’s brand in opposition.

Specifically, the Conservative leader pledged to protect health spending and avoid “top-down reorganisations.” By 2015 the NHS will be suffering from a funding crisis, exacerbated by a vast reorganisation that smells enough like privatisation by stealth to cause the Conservatives bountiful political harm.

The "safety first" option for Labour is to watch this grizzly spectacle unfold, and march against it under a “Save our NHS” banner. This will certainly be a feature of the 2015 campaign. But it is to the credit of Labour’s shadow health team – Andy Burnham and Liz Kendall – that they are thinking a bit deeper about how their party might run the health service if it actually formed a government.

The NHS is heading towards a financial crunch, driven by the rising cost of treatment and an ageing population, regardless of the immediate fiscal challenge facing the Treasury. In other words, even if George Osborne’s economic plans were working (and they’re not), even if growth and revenues returned to pre-crisis levels, even if every household in Britain urged the government to tax them some more out of sheer love for the NHS, it would need structural reforms to make it financially sustainable. (Of course, the Tories say that is their motive too but they struggle to convince.)

Part of Labour’s answer is the integration of social care with the NHS. Currently the two services rub along in disjointed fashion, with little coordination and no consistency. As a result, the health service ends up picking up the tab for failings in social care services. Hospitals fill up with elderly patients suffering from chronic, long-term conditions, which is neither a good way to look after people nor an efficient use of finite resources. The theory is that integrating the two services could save billions over time by spending smaller sums on the kinds of early interventions that limit hospital admissions and help elderly patients lead healthier, happier lives.

This in turn is part of a more profound transition to what Burnham and Kendall call “whole person care" – re-orienting treatment and NHS institutions to consider the conditions that lead to ill health in the first place. It means concentrating on interventions that protect society (considering, for example, diet, exercise, stress); empowering and encouraging people to look after their own health. (Advocates of this approach often cite diabetes as a classic case of something that will cost the NHS a whole lot more if dealt with only once it is manifest than if investment were put into helping people change their lifestyles.)

Ed Miliband has today announced the creation of a commission to examine how it might be done. Part of the remit is to achieve the integration with a minimum of disruption to existing structures (i.e. not necessitating another great upheaval) and without a great up-front spending commitment. That won't be easy.

A commission to look at ways to implement an idea may not sound like a bold stride towards manifesto clarity but in the context of Labour’s softly-softly approach to policy it is genuine progress. It is a step towards a broader expression of budget priorities – which areas or departments will be favoured and which will suffer if Labour finds itself governing in austerity. The question of when and how to signal those priorities, or indeed whether it needs to be done at all, is one of the thorniest debates that goes on in the shadow cabinet. Ed Balls is said to be reluctant to permit any announcement that might contain the seeds of a fiscal obligation for the future. Shadow ministers who want to develop their portfolios complain that without some fiscal guidelines they can’t credibly develop plans for government. That leaves the front bench stuck in the realm of stating warm but vague intentions or just whingeing about coalition policy.

For people who have followed Labour’s cautious steps towards an NHS policy, Miliband’s announcement today is hardly new. Burnham made a speech on ‘whole person care’ in January. Kendall has been delicately but consistently making the case that Labour cannot sit back and defend the pre-2010 status quo since joining the front bench. Finally, it seems, they have persuaded Miliband to put his personal authority behind their approach. (It is a rule of Westminster politics that no-one believes something will actually happen until they hear it from the leader’s mouth.)

There is a catch. The “whole person care” idea makes sense fiscally over the long term as a way to save money. It makes sense clinically as a way to achieve better outcomes and modernise the way the health service treats patients. It makes sense as political strategy, addressing the concerns of people who fear they will be abandoned in retirement or worry about how they will care for elderly patients. But it scatters a bunch of tactical land mines in the form of hospital closures.

Pretty much any time politicians look hard at NHS reforms they come to the view that the classic jack-of-all-trades district general hospital is a tired and inefficient model for delivering effective care to communities. But whenever anyone tries to rationalise the system and change the structures, they discover it means wards or whole hospitals closing, leading to demonstrations, petitions, town hall meetings and, usually, political retreat.

“Whole person care” is no exception. It implies a re-allocation of resources to treat people at home and a strategy to encourage patients with chronic conditions to get more treatment at clinics and GP surgeries. It recognises what consultants and healthcare experts have been privately complaining about for years: that many hospitals wards are effectively emergency housing for geriatric patients, which is bad for them and a poor use of resources. But a better use of resources might mean, gulp, fewer wards.

Given his predilection for caution on the topic of public sector reform, Ed Miliband went pretty far today in terms of recognising the existence of an NHS budget challenge. He said:

“The NHS will always be a priority for expenditure under a Labour government, but we must make every pound we spend go further at a time when our NHS faces the risk of being overwhelmed by a crisis in funding because of care needs by the end of this decade.

"When the NHS was in crisis in the 1990s, Labour was able to save it by combining reform with unprecedented increases in funding. We know that budgets will be tighter under the next Labour government. But even in these tough times we want the NHS to provide a better service for patients.

"The changes we propose will ensure that – but they do something else too. They will save billions of pounds which can be better spent elsewhere in the NHS."

Buried in that loose expression of good intent is small print so minuscule it is invisible to the naked eye. It says that that a Labour government could end up closing hospitals too.  

Shadow health secretary Andy Burnham with Ed Miliband in 2010. Photograph: Getty Images.

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

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This Ada Lovelace Day, let’s celebrate women in tech while confronting its sexist culture

In an industry where men hold most of the jobs and write most of the code, celebrating women's contributions on one day a year isn't enough. 

Ada Lovelace wrote the world’s first computer program. In the 1840s Charles Babbage, now known as the “father of the computer”, designed (though never built) the “Analytical Engine”, a machine which could accurately and reproducibly calculate the answers to maths problems. While translating an article by an Italian mathematician about the machine, Lovelace included a written algorithm for which would allow the engine to calculate a sequence of Bernoulli numbers.

Around 170 years later, Whitney Wolfe, one of the founders of dating app Tinder, was allegedly forced to resign from the company. According to a lawsuit she later filed against the app and its parent company, she had her co-founder title removed because, the male founders argued, it would look “slutty”, and because “Facebook and Snapchat don’t have girl founders. It just makes it look like Tinder was some accident". (They settled out of court.)

Today, 13 October, is Ada Lovelace day – an international celebration of inspirational women in science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM). It’s lucky we have this day of remembrance, because, as Wolfe’s story demonstrates, we also spend a lot of time forgetting and sidelining women in tech. In the wash of pale male founders of the tech giants that rule the industry,we don't often think about the women that shaped its foundations: Judith Estrin, one of the designers of TCP/IP, for example, or Radia Perlman, inventor of the spanning-tree protocol. Both inventions sound complicated, and they are – they’re some of the vital building blocks that allow the internet to function. 

And yet David Streitfield, a Pulitzer-prize winning journalist, someow felt it accurate to write in 2012: “Men invented the internet. And not just any men. Men with pocket protectors. Men who idolised Mr Spock and cried when Steve Jobs died.”

Perhaps we forget about tech's founding women because the needle has swung so far into the other direction. A huge proportion – perhaps even 90 per cent - of the world’s code is written by men. At Google, women fill 17 per cent of technical roles. At Facebook, 15 per cent. Over 90 per cent of the code respositories on Github, an online service used throughout the industry, are owned by men. Yet it's also hard to believe that this erasure of women's role in tech is completely accidental. As Elissa Shevinsky writes in the introduction to a collection of essays on gender in tech, Lean Out: “This myth of the nerdy male founder has been perpetuated by men who found this story favourable."

Does it matter? It’s hard to believe that it doesn’t. Our society is increasingly defined and delineated by code and the things it builds. Small slip-ups, like the lack of a period tracker on the original Apple Watch, or fitness trackers too big for some women’s wrists, gesture to the fact that these technologies are built by male-dominated teams, for a male audience.

In Lean Out, one essay written by a Twitter-based “start-up dinosaur” (don’t ask) explains how dangerous it is to allow one small segment of society to built the future for the rest of us:

If you let someone else build tomorrow, tomorrow will belong to someone else. They will build a better tomorrow for everyone like them… For tomorrow to be for everyone, everyone needs to be the one [sic] that build it.

So where did all the women go? How did we get from a rash of female inventors to a situation where the major female presence at an Apple iPhone launch is a model’s face projected onto a screen and photoshopped into a smile by a male demonstrator? 

Photo: Apple.

The toxic culture of many tech workplaces could be a cause or an effect of the lack of women in the industry, but it certainly can’t make make it easy to stay. Behaviours range from the ignorant - Martha Lane-Fox, founder of, often asked “what happens if you get pregnant?” at investors' meetings - to the much more sinister. An essay in Lean Out by Katy Levinson details her experiences of sexual harassment while working in tech: 

I have had interviewers attempt to solicit sexual favors from me mid-interview and discuss in significant detail precisely what they would like to do. All of these things have happened either in Silicon Valley working in tech, in an educational institution to get me there, or in a technical internship.

Others featured in the book joined in with the low-level sexism and racism  of their male colleagues in order to "fit in" and deflect negative attention. Erica Joy writes that while working in IT at the University of Alaska as the only woman (and only black person) on her team, she laughed at colleagues' "terribly racist and sexist jokes" and "co-opted their negative attitudes”. 

The casual culture and allegedly meritocratic hierarchies of tech companies may actually be encouraging this discriminatory atmosphere. HR and the strict reporting procedures of large corporates at least give those suffering from discrimination a place to go. A casual office environment can discourage reporting or calling out prejudiced humour or remarks. Brook Shelley, a woman who transitioned while working in tech, notes: "No one wants to be the office mother". So instead, you join in and hope for the best. 

And, of course, there's no reason why people working in tech would have fewer issues with discrimination than those in other industries. A childhood spent as a "nerd" can also spawn its own brand of misogyny - Katherine Cross writes in Lean Out that “to many of these men [working in these fields] is all too easy to subconciously confound women who say ‘this is sexist’ with the young girls who said… ‘You’re gross and a creep and I’ll never date you'". During GamerGate, Anita Sarkeesian was often called a "prom queen" by trolls. 

When I spoke to Alexa Clay, entrepreneur and co-author of the Misfit Economy, she confirmed that there's a strange, low-lurking sexism in the start-up economy: “They have all very open and free, but underneath it there's still something really patriarchal.” Start-ups, after all, are a culture which celebrates risk-taking, something which women are societally discouraged from doing. As Clay says, 

“Men are allowed to fail in tech. You have these young guys who these old guys adopt and mentor. If his app doesn’t work, the mentor just shrugs it off. I would not be able ot get away with that, and I think women and minorities aren't allowed to take the same amount of risks, particularly in these communities. If you fail, no one's saying that's fine.

The conclusion of Lean Out, and of women in tech I have spoken to, isn’t that more women, over time, will enter these industries and seamlessly integrate – it’s that tech culture needs to change, or its lack of diversity will become even more severe. Shevinsky writes:

The reason why we don't have more women in tech is not because of a lack of STEM education. It's because too many high profile and influential individuals and subcultures within the tech industry have ignored or outright mistreated women applicants and employees. To be succinct—the problem isn't women, it's tech culture.

Software engineer Kate Heddleston has a wonderful and chilling metaphor about the way we treat women in STEM. Women are, she writes, the “canary in the coal mine”. If one dies, surely you should take that as a sign that the mine is uninhabitable – that there’s something toxic in the air. “Instead, the industry is looking at the canary, wondering why it can’t breathe, saying ‘Lean in, canary, lean in!’. When one canary dies they get a new one because getting more canaries is how you fix the lack of canaries, right? Except the problem is that there isn't enough oxygen in the coal mine, not that there are too few canaries.” We need more women in STEM, and, I’d argue, in tech in particular, but we need to make sure the air is breatheable first. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.