A protest in support of the NHS at last year's Labour conference. Source: Getty
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NHS funding is a taboo topic for all parties

The Tories blew their chance to be trusted on health and Labour doesn't want to talk about where the money will come from.

It is hard to think of a policy that Labour is less likely to adopt for its 2015 manifesto than the flat rate £10-per-month “membership fee” for the NHS proposed by Lord Warner, a Blair-era health minister now sitting in the Lords. Jamie Reed MP, shadow health minister has said “this is not something Labour would ever consider.” He might have added re-introduction of small pox as a health policy  closer to Ed Miliband’s preferred general election offer.

When Labour has a vast lead over the Tories as the party to be trusted with the health service, anything that sounds as if it undermines the founding principle of universal access free at the point of use is out of the question. The problem is that Labour has signed up to tight spending constraint if it forms a government and under those circumstances NHS funding is certain to become a volatile issue. People are living longer, suffering from chronic conditions that are expensive to treat – especially if they result in prolonged hospital stays – and costs in medicine tend to rise faster than inflation. Even without the ongoing fiscal crunch, this would be an issue of existential urgency for the system as it is currently configured.

MPs in all parties know this but it has become hard to say so aloud for fear of facing the follow-up question – what would you do about it? In theory, health spending this parliament has been “ring-fenced” but it doesn’t feel that way in the context of local authority cuts, which have severe consequences for social care, and “efficiency savings” that amount to real terms cuts when imposed in a climate of rising costs. GPs say privately that a growing part of what they do amounts to managing patient expectations downward and rationing.

This model of service erosion is no-one’s preferred policy but it is the inevitable consequence of persistent failure of political courage on all sides. The Tories had their moment to bring public opinion with them in a conversation about reform and they blew it with a vast restructuring that alienated pretty much everyone apart from private healthcare providers. The Lib Dems are desperate to scrub away as much trace of complicity with the Tories’ mangled reforms as they can before polling day, although Nick Clegg was a prominent co-mangler.

Labour, meanwhile, does have a plan to transform the provision of health services – the “whole person care” idea developed by Andy Burnham. This puts the emphasis on public health and investment in prevention to save costs down the line. It also envisages the merger of health and social care.

There are obstacles. First, even if the numbers can be made to add up over the long-term, it looks like a hefty up-front expense and yet another epic re-organisation to boot. Second, Ed Miliband’s office is deeply suspicious of Burnham, believing him to be building a support base in the party machine and manoeuvring into a position to be ready for a leadership contest in the event that Labour loses the next election. With an eye on those ambitions, neither Miliband nor Ed Balls seems in a massive hurry to give the shadow Health Secretary the kind of boost that would come from the adoption of his health plans as a flagship reform proposal going into the general election.

Finally, there is a feeling among some Labour MPs and activists that owning up to the imminent cost crunch in the health service and offering a complicated reform agenda to address it just confuses the message, when all the voters need to know between now and May 2015 is that “you can’t trust the Tories with the NHS.” This school of opposition would gladly build an entire campaign around the anti-Conservative message played on a loop alongside pictures of David Cameron and George Obsorne looking smug interspersed with reminders of their “tax cut for millionaires.”

The reality is that Labour expected problems with the NHS to be more extreme and more salient in political debate than they have proved to be so far. (That isn't meant as a denial of the severity of the problem, only as an observation that they haven't blasted other matters off the front pages.) It is an issue where the opposition has a huge potential advantage but only if voters think it is a matter of such urgency as to trump other questions when weighing up who to vote for – the economy; immigration; crime; education etc. Labour’s dilemma is that the obvious way to make more political noise around the health service is to talk about the funding crisis but doing so invites scrutiny of the opposition’s proposed solution. And that is a conversation the party is not yet ready to have.

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

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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue