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The NHS needs to change - but how?

When the NHS was founded, chronic illnesses and long-term care were non-issues. Adapting to the new reality means big changes are needed.

The backlash from NHS staff culminating #ImInWorkJeremy shows how carefully politicians need to tread when advocating reform of the NHS. But the pressing and urgent need for reform is going to intensify as this Parliament wears on.

Even with the extra £8bn of funding announced in George Osborne’s Budget earlier this month, the task facing Simon Stevens, Chief Executive of the NHS, is huge. The health service must find £22bn of efficiency savings over the next five years, an unprecedented target not just in terms of the NHS, but for any western health service.

Reform will have to sit at the heart of any plan to achieve this. Indeed, Stevens’ NHS Five Year Forward View sets out a range of reforms which will help us get there including the integration of health and social care and better use of new technologies. But crucial to the success of the Forward View will be the NHS’s ability to empower patients.

Patient empowerment has been an aim of the system for over fifteen years. But as more and more people suffer from complex long-term conditions the majority of care will occur not in the hospital or GP‘s surgery, but at home. By 2025 the number of people with complex long-term conditions will be more than 18 million. Patients and their family taking on the carers role will be the ones making the difficult decisions. If these decisions are good ones, demand on the service will go down. Get them wrong and it will increase. Indeed, the evidence suggests that around one in five emergency admissions to hospital are potentially preventable.

Existing empowerment initiatives – which Stevens’ NHS Five Year Forward View focus on – such as ‘voice’ and ‘choice’ won’t change this. They empower people only after or as they are entering the health service. New empowerment models being pioneered across the country create good health, rather than respond to ill health. These initiatives include giving doctors the ability to prescribe social rather than just medical treatments (cooking classes, gym memberships and community social groups), creating peer networks among those with similar chronic conditions, and working with patients to set technology enabled care plans, which help patients make decisions remotely and allow more flexible contact with healthcare professionals.  

The challenge now for the NHS is how to ensure that every patient who could benefit from these empowerment initiatives can have access to them. IPPR is recommending a transformation fund for the NHS – something backed up by recent work by the Health Foundation and the Kings Fund. This would help spread reform and prevent extra funding being used for steady-state or business as usual.

More money should also be passed over to patients directly in the form of personalised budgets, with patients holding the purse strings. At the moment, less than half a million people benefit from personal budgets but by 2020, IPPR argues that all patients with a long-term condition should be offered one.

And finally, more money and finance should be devolved to the local level. ‘Devo-Manc’ is a good start, but the government promised ‘devolution on demand’ and demand there is. Notably, the ten core cities - Birmingham, Bristol, Liverpool, Leeds, Manchester, Newcastle, Nottingham and Sheffield, Cardiff and Glasgow – recently published ‘A Modern Charter for Local Freedom’ which expressed an interest in following suit. NHS England should start thinking about when and how it will meet this demand now: devolution of this kind can make care more responsive to local populations and should galvanise empowerment focussed reform.

These changes won’t be easy; but they are absolutely necessary. As Alan Milburn’s argues: “Tinkering with change will not save the NHS. It must stop treating patients as passive by-standers and instead enlist them as active agents of change.”

 

Harry Quilter-Pinner, co-author of Powerful Patients published by IPPR.

 

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

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