A baby boy is held by a midwife after being born in an NHS maternity unit in Manchester. Photo: Christopher Furlong/Getty
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The battle for better maternity care shows the limits of the Amazon warehouse approach to medicine

The issues around maternity care are a microcosm of the bigger battles in the NHS – centralisation, protocols and “efficiency savings” v making a space for common sense, professional judgement and personal relationships.

What is the most common reason for a hospital admission in Britain? Not heart attacks, not strokes, nor even ingrown toenails. It’s having a baby. Giving birth is an everyday miracle and its relative safety in the developed world is perhaps the greatest triumph of modern medicine. In Britain, eight women die per 100,000 live births – against 980 in Chad or 28 in America. Childbirth is still one of the most dangerous things a woman can face: 35 per cent of all NHS clinical negligence claims last year, by value, were for obstetrics.

I have been thinking about this because, at the time of writing, the Duchess of Cambridge is due any day. Although she will get a “second baby discount” at the Lindo Wing of St Mary’s Hospital in London, the cost of going private is roughly £12,000 for a – what’s the delicate word here? – no-frills, Tesco Value birth without use of forceps or the need for an anaesthetist. The cost to the NHS of such a birth is less than £2,000.

For her money, the duchess gets the services of the Queen’s surgeon-gynaecologist, Alan Farthing (what a business card that is), who helped deliver Prince George, and the obstetric specialist Guy Thorpe-Beeston. Of the latter, the Daily Mail notes: “He has cleared his diary so he can be solely on call.”

Cor. That’s fancy, isn’t it? Kate’s experience will clearly be far removed from that of most women who give birth in Britain but it is an interesting study of what the health service might do if money was no object. So what can we learn from it?

The first lesson is a counterintuitive one: the doctors sound impressive but might well be superfluous. Cathy Warwick, chief executive of the Royal College of Midwives, tells me: “A lot of women assume they are safest where there are doctors, and yet the evidence suggests that for women who are suitable – meaning low-risk – they are probably as safe, in terms of their baby, and safer, in terms of themselves, out of obstetric units.” Only a quarter of women want to give birth in a hospital obstetric unit, according to research by the Women’s Institute, although 85 per cent end up in one.

Where the duchess really lucks out, however, is in having medical staff present whom she already knows. The coalition tried to implement this in 2012 with a “named midwife” policy – with the same person seeing mothers through from early pregnancy to the challenge of breastfeeding and beyond – but it has been difficult to deliver. “In the last survey we did on this, one in four women reported being left alone and worried during labour,” Warwick says. “That’s just not good enough. In addition, if you don’t have enough midwives, post-natal care tends to suffer quite badly, with midwives being pulled from less safety-critical areas to the labour ward.”

Abi Wood, public affairs manager at the National Childbirth Trust, says a midwife who has got to know a mother can judge better how seriously to take her anxieties. “It helps an awful lot because then that midwife can make much more accurate judgements. Also, if there’s anything in your past they need to know about – if you’ve experienced sexual violence or if you’re in an abusive relationship – if you have to explain that to a new person every time, it may prove a difficult experience.” Similarly, a midwife or health visitor who has been able to build a rapport with a mother is better placed to look out for mental health problems, such as post-natal depression.

Could any of this be achieved within the NHS? People are trying to find out: in London and the south-east, a social enterprise called Neighbourhood Midwives aims to repopularise the idea of “caseload midwifery”, where one worker takes on 30 or so expectant mothers, and is available to them 24/7 in pregnancy and for six weeks after delivery. The midwives plan their own working week, in contrast to the NHS model, where they work shifts and see whoever walks through the door. Annie Francis, who works for the scheme, had always wanted to integrate it into the NHS, but that is proving hard. “The system is so enormous and unwieldy, so mechanistic . . . it costs a fortune because women end up with more and more interventions, and they don’t have the relationship of trust.” She is adamant: “We need to start again from the beginning.”

Why does all this matter so much? Because it’s a microcosm of the bigger battles in the NHS – centralisation, protocols and “efficiency savings” v making a space for common sense, professional judgement and personal relationships. As Wood says of the caseload approach, “It does require a certain amount of trust in midwives just to get on with working in that way, and taking a more long-term view.”

At the Cambridge Literary Festival, I interviewed the neurosurgeon Henry Marsh, profiled in this magazine in 2014, and he offered a compelling argument against what you might call the “Amazon warehouse” model of health care. He described moving from the Atkinson Morley, a small hospital where all the medical staff knew the porters by name, to a vast PFI-funded building with miles of echoing corridor. Turning a bedbound patient was once a matter of calling a porter; now it requires all the nurses on shift to give up whatever they’re doing. He reminded me of Dunbar’s number – a concept popularised by the anthropologist Robin Dunbar, which suggests that the optimum size for a group of human beings is 150 – and suggested that any future reorganisation of the NHS should bear this in mind.

Applied to childbirth, the conclusions are obvious: we need enough midwives to provide one-to-one care throughout labour but then it’s time to think bigger. Or, rather, think smaller: how can the NHS give personalised support to mothers, rather than making them feel like the latest item on a maternity conveyor belt? 

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

This article first appeared in the 24 April 2015 issue of the New Statesman, What does England want?

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“Brexit is based on racism”: Who is protesting outside the Supreme Court and what are they fighting for?

Movement for Justice is challenging the racist potential of Brexit, as the government appeals the High Court's Article 50 decision.

Protestors from the campaign group Movement for Justice are demonstrating outside the Supreme Court for the second day running. They are against the government triggering Article 50 without asking MPs, and are protesting against the Brexit vote in general. They plan to remain outside the Supreme Court for the duration of the case, as the government appeals the recent High Court ruling in favour of Parliament.

Their banners call to "STOP the scapgoating of immigrants", to "Build the movement against austerity & FOR equality", and to "Stop Brexit Fight Racism".

The group led Saturday’s march at Yarl’s Wood Immigration Detention Centre, where a crowd of over 2,000 people stood against the government’s immigration policy, and the management of the centre, which has long been under fire for claims of abuse against detainees.  

Movement for Justice, and its 50 campaigners, were in the company yesterday of people from all walks of pro and anti-Brexit life, including the hangers-on from former Ukip leader Nigel Farage’s postponed march on the Supreme Court.

Antonia Bright, one of the campaign’s lead figures, says: “It is in the interests of our fight for freedom of movement that the Supreme Court blocks May’s attempt to rush through an anti-immigrant deal.”

This sentiment is echoed by campaigners on both sides of the referendum, many of whom believe that Parliament should be involved.

Alongside refuting the royal prerogative, the group criticises the Brexit vote in general. Bright says:

“The bottom line is that Brexit represents an anti-immigrant movement. It is based on racism, so regardless of how people intended their vote, it will still be a decision that is an attack on immigration.”

A crucial concern for the group is that the terms of the agreement will set a precedent for anti-immigrant policies that will heighten aggression against ethnic communities.

This concern isn’t entirely unfounded. The National Police Chief’s Council recorded a 58 per cent spike in hate crimes in the week following the referendum. Over the course of the month, this averaged as a 41 per cent increase, compared with the same time the following year.

The subtext of Bright's statement is not only a dissatisfaction with the result of the EU referendum, but the process of the vote itself. It voices a concern heard many times since the vote that a referendum is far too simple a process for a desicion of such momentous consequences. She also draws on the gaping hole between people's voting intentions and the policy that is implemented.

This is particularly troubling when the competitive nature of multilateral bargaining allows the government to keep its cards close to its chest on critical issues such as freedom of movement and trade agreements. Bright insists that this, “is not a democratic process at all”.

“We want to positively say that there does need to be scrutiny and transparency, and an opening up of this question, not just a rushing through on the royal prerogative,” she adds. “There needs to be transparency in everything that is being negotiated and discussed in the public realm.”

For campaigners, the use of royal prerogative is a sinister symbol of the government deciding whatever it likes, without consulting Parliament or voters, during the future Brexit negotiations. A ruling in the Supreme Court in favour of a parliamentary vote would present a small but important reassurance against these fears.