So Lord Young thinks we’ve never had it so good - surely the most crass demonstration of ignorance since Marie-Antoinette (and we all know happened to her).
The truth is that for many, like his lordship, life is great. Provided you can keep your job, have private health insurance, send your kids to private school, never go on a bus, and live in a gated community in Surrey, it’s perfectly possible that you’re rubbing your hands with glee at the thought of more cuts. They only affect ‘other people’. In fact, I think the 18 millionaires on the cabinet should describe to the rest of us how exactly they will be personally affected.
Meanwhile, back in the ‘bloated’ public-sector (funny how those words seem to go naturally together these days) the proportion of millionaires is a little smaller. In fact, out here in the world of ordinary people who don’t have trust funds, there seems to a large number of people who claim the cuts will affect them quite badly. These individuals are unfortunate (or irresponsible) enough to fall into one of the following categories - they are old, young, ill or poor.
My own hospital, which serves some of the most deprived populations in the UK, now has to save around 5% of it’s budget year-on-year. We have already shed over 200 staff. This makes government claims to be ‘ring-fencing’ the NHS budget just a little hard to swallow, because at the same time we know that ministers are sneakily adding many social care responsibilities on to our patch without additional funding.
As theatre director, I look at this with despair - we are already aiming for nearly 90% theatre ‘utilisation’, which means that many theatre lists overrun (human physiology being a little unpredictable) and our staff repeatedly have to stay way past their shift times. Yet we are having to look at ways of increasing efficiency and saving money. We also have a minority of colleagues who seem to be blind to how serious the situation is - perhaps they live in that gated community in Surrey and never watch the news.
I was a little cheered by one of our medical students who told me last week that she had gone to ‘the march’. A group of her friends had gone on a coach together, which, as it involved getting up at 5.30am, showed impressive commitment for a teenager (one university lecturer on the march remarked that kicking in the window of Millbank Tower was the hardest work his students had done all year, which I thought was a little harsh). My medical student saw no violence, and said that the crowd was full of 15 and 16 year olds worried about cuts affecting higher education in general (removal of grants for over 16s staying on at school, for instance) as well as university fees.
I just hope that I can persuade Chloe to take up anaesthesia as a career - she’s just the sort of colleague we need…
