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Politics

Re: Nudges in a Post-truth World 

19 Jul, 17 | by bearp

Guest Post: Nathan Hodson 

In a recent article in the Journal of Medical Ethics, Neil Levy has developed a concept of “nudges to reason,” offering a new tool for those trying to reconcile medical ethics with the application of behavioural psychological research – a practice known as nudging. Very roughly, nudging means adjusting the way choices are presented to the public in order to promote certain decisions.

As Levy notes, some people are concerned that nudges present a threat to autonomy. Attempts at reconciling nudges with ethics, then, are important because nudging in healthcare is here to stay but we need to ensure it is used in ways that respect autonomy (and other moral principles).

The term “nudge” is perhaps a misnomer. To fill out the concept a bit, it commonly denotes the use of behavioural economics and behavioural psychology to the construction of choice architecture through carefully designed trials. But every choice we face, in any context, already comes with a choice architecture: there are endless contextual factors that impact the decisions we make.

When we ask whether nudging is acceptable we are asking whether an arbitrary or random choice architecture is more acceptable than a deliberate choice architecture, or whether an uninformed choice architecture is better than one informed by research.

In fact the permissibility of a nudge derives from whether it is being used in an ethically acceptable way, something that can only be explored on an individual basis. Thaler and Sunstein locate ethical acceptability in promoting the health of the person being nudged (and call this Libertarian Paternalism — i.e. sensible choices are promoted but no option is foreclosed). An alternative approach was proposed by Mitchell: nudges are justified if they maximise future liberty. Either way the nudging itself is not inherently problematic.

Detailing the relevant psychological research, Levy outlines how our responses to new information are influenced by our understanding of the source. Does the source stand to benefit from persuading us? Does the source wish us good or ill? These are classified as Messenger factors in the Behavioural Insights Team’s1 MINDSPACE classification.

Levy goes on to show how sensitivity to these factors makes evolutionary sense and as such constitutes part of our subconscious reasoning. Nudges that promote appropriate sensitivity to the factors, then, do not subvert our rationality; they apply or appeal directly to it.

There is huge scope within Levy’s grouping of nudges for interventions that do not threaten autonomy. For example the “N” in MINDSPACE stands for “norms.” An attuned sensitivity to group norms is adaptive in the same way as are messenger factors. But there is another group of nudges that actively promote autonomy.

The challenges to healthcare and wider society in this purportedly post-truth era demand improved quality of public debate and individual deliberation, and nudges can help. Building on Mitchell’s notion that nudges can be good if they increase future liberty and taking a rich conception of autonomy maximised through reflection and rationality, we could conceive of nudge-based policies which maximise current autonomy.  more…

Never Let an Ill Child Go to Waste

7 Jul, 17 | by Iain Brassington

The Charlie Gard saga is one about which I’ve been reluctant to say anything, not least because plenty of other people have said plenty elsewhere.  Sometimes they add heat, and sometimes they add light.

Beneath everything, the story is fairly simple: a small child is terribly ill; it is agreed by medical opinion that continued treatment is not only not in his best interests but would cause him positive harm; the courts have determined that the withdrawal of treatment is warranted.  One sympathises with his parents’ fight to keep treatment going – but it does not follow from that that their opinions should be determinative.  Indeed, the courts having decided that Charlie’s treatment should not be withdrawn immediately in order to allow his parents more time with him risks making the case about them, rather than about him.  If treatment is not medically warranted and actually is harmful, there may be something worrisome about continuing it anyway for the sake of his parents.  Their distress is not going to lessened by prolonging the child’s treatment, and even if it were, it is not the proper focus here.

So that’s my hot take on the story itself.  I don’t think it’s anything too radical.  Yet the coverage of the case has been, in places, something of a trainwreck.  Take, for example, this piece from the Chicago Tribune (with thanks to Charles Erin for the pointer).  It’s fascinating for just how much it manages to get wrong, and how mawkish it is, and for what it does with the story to such unpleasant ends.

Charlie’s parents, Connie Yates and Chris Gard, are fighting to bring their son to the U.S. for experimental treatment. They’ve raised $1.7 million on a crowdfunding website to do so.

But Charlie’s doctors, and the British courts, won’t let him go. Medical authorities argue that prolonging his life by keeping him on a ventilator could cause him pain. British authorities won’t even let the parents take him home to die.

Well, yes and no.  I mean, it’s true that Charlie won’t be travelling abroad for treatment, but the tone here is deeply misleading: it’s presented as a kind of custody battle, and it’s no such thing.  It’s about what’s in Charlie’s best interests.  “The authorities aren’t even letting him go home to die” is arguably a rather mendacious way of saying “Charlie really needs the kind of care that can’t be provided at home”.

The article continues: more…

Donald Trump’s Mental Health (again)

14 Apr, 17 | by Iain Brassington

The speculation about Donald Trump’s mental health that was doing the rounds earlier in the year seems to have died down a bit.  That’s to be expected; like it or not, his Presidency is now part of normal life.  But I’ve been lagging in my blogging here, and so it’s only now that I’ve got a moment to mention in passing an op-ed article about Trump in the New Scientist that appeared just after I posted last on the topic.  (February.  I know, I know.)

It’s by Allen Frances, and it takes issue with what he calls “armchair diagnosis” of the president.  He’s right to say that there’s something disquieting about armchair diagnosis: “psychiatric diagnosis is already done far too casually and inaccurately in medical and mental health practice.  Armchair diagnosis further cheapens its currency.”  However, I do wonder whether we ought to pay some attention to whose armchair it is.  Often, it’s an armchair occupied by the genuinely ignorant, or the spiteful.  That’s the internet for you.  Accusing someone of being mentally ill or having a personality disorder on this account may be simply mistaken; or it may be intended as a jibe, the subtext of which is that there’s something shameful about having a mental health problem.  But not every armchair is the same: as Frances’ article admits, a letter with 35 signatories who work within the mental health field appeared in the New York Times.  That letter may be misguided, or ill-motivated.  But it is by people who, presumably, know a thing or two about the topic.  Their armchair is not my armchair.

But there’s something else about the piece that’s just nagging away at me.  I don’t know a heck of a lot about mental health, but (and maybe that’s why) there’s a passage in the article that strikes me as being just strange:

But the main [reason for opposing armchair psychiatry] is the inaccuracy of the narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) diagnosis: Trump may be a world-class narcissist, but this doesn’t make him mentally ill.

I wrote the criteria for NPD for the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, which guides mental health diagnosis in the US and beyond. These require not only that the personality features be present, but also that they cause clinically significant distress and impairment. Trump appears to cause severe distress in others (rather than experiencing it himself) and has been richly rewarded (rather than punished) for his self-promoting and self-absorbed behaviours.

[…] We must avoid the frequent mistake of confusing mental illness with bad behaviour. Most people who lie, cheat and exploit others are not mentally ill, and most mentally ill people do not commit dishonourable acts.

There’s a few things that are a bit odd about this. more…

Diagnosing Trump

5 Feb, 17 | by Iain Brassington

It doesn’t take too much time on the internet to find people talking with some measure of incredulity about Donald Trump.  Some of this talk takes the tone of horrified fascination; some of it is mocking (and is accompanied by correspondingly mocking images); and some people are wondering aloud about his mental health.  In this last category, there’s a couple of sub-categories: sometimes, people are not really talking in earnest; sometimes, though, they are.  What if the forty-fifth President of the United States of America has some kind of mental illness, or some kind of personality disorder?  What if this affects his ability to make decisions, or increases the chance that he’ll make irrational, impulsive, and potentially dangerous decisions?

This does raise questions about the proper conduct of the medical profession – particularly, the psychiatric profession.  Would it be permissible for a professional to speak publicly about the putative mental health of the current holder of the most important political office in the world?  Or would such action simply be speculation, and unhelpful, and generally infra dig?  More particularly, while the plebs might say all kinds of things about Trump, is there something special about speaking, if not exactly ex cathedra, then at least with the authority of someone who has working knowledge of cathedrae and what it’s like to sit on one?

As far as the American Psychiatric Association is concerned, the answer is fairly clear.  §7.3 of its Code of Ethics, which you can get here, says that

[o]n occasion psychiatrists are asked for an opinion about an individual who is in the light of public attention or who has disclosed information about himself/herself through public media. In such circumstances, a psychiatrist may share with the public his or her expertise about psychiatric issues in general. However, it is unethical for a psychiatrist to offer a professional opinion unless he or she has conducted an examination and has been granted proper authorization for such a statement.

This rule is nicknamed the “Goldwater Rule”, after Barry Goldwater, the Senator who sued successfully for damages after a magazine polled psychiatrists on the question of whether or not he was fit to be President.  Following the rule would appear to rule out making any statement about whether a President has a mental illness, a personality disorder, or anything else that might appear within the pages of the DSM.

Over on the BMJ‘s blog, Trish Greenhalgh has been wondering about what a doctor may or may not do in cases like this:

I have retweeted cartoons that mock Trump, because I view satire and parody as legitimate weapons in the effort to call our leaders to account.

But as a doctor, should I go further? Should I point out the formal diagnostic criteria for a particular mental illness, cognitive condition, or particular personality disorder and select relevant examples from material available in the public domain to assess whether he appears to meet those criteria?

Her post is long, but it does generate an answer:

I believe that on rare occasions it may be ethically justified to offer clinically-informed speculation, so long as any such statement is clearly flagged as such. […] I believe that there is no absolute bar to a doctor suggesting that in his or her clinical opinion, it would be in the public interest for a particular public figure to undergo “occupational health” checks to assess their fitness to hold a particular office.

Her phrasing is such as to leave no bet unhedged – she’s careful not to say that she’s talking about anyone in particular; but, beneath that, the message is clear: it might be justifiable to depart from the Goldwater Rule to some extent in certain hypothetical circumstances.

My post in response will also be long – in fact, it’s going to spread out over two posts.  I think she’s plausibly correct; but the way she gets there is not persuasive.

more…

Chappell on Midwives and Regulation

2 Feb, 17 | by Iain Brassington

Richard Yetter Chappell has drawn my attention to this – a blog post in which he bemoans the Nursing and Midwifery Council’s rules about indemnity insurance, and the effects that they’ll have on independent midwives.  (I’d never heard of independent midwives – but an IM – according to Independent Midwives UK – is “a fully qualified midwife who has chosen to work outside the NHS in a self-employed capacity”.)  In essence, what’s happened is that the NMC has ruled that the indemnity cover used by some IMs – around 80, nationwide, according to some reports – is inadequate; these 80 IMs (out of 41000!) are therefore barred from working.

I’ve got to admit that this seems like a bit of a storm in a teacup to me.  For sure, there may have been infelicities about the way that the NMC handled its decision.  That may well be unfortunate, but it may not be all that much to get excited about.  However, Chappell makes two particularly striking points.  The first is his opening claim, in which he refers to this as “a new low for harmful government over-regulation”.  Well, it’s not really government overregulation, is it?  It’s the NMC.  Governing bodies are not government.  And whether it’s overregulation at all is a moot point: we need more information about what the standard is by which we should assess any regulation.  That leads us to the second striking thing that Chappell says, to which I’ll return in a moment.  Whether it’s harmful is also a moot point.  I mean, it may be true – as he points out – that the decision will have an undesirable impact on the relationship between some women and their chosen midwife.  But that won’t tell us anything about whether the policy is desirable all told.  It’s certainly not enough to warrant calling it “unethical” – and to dub something unethical is not a moral argument.

The second striking thing is this: more…

Politicians, Delusional Managers and the Future of the NHS: Have NHS Leaders Failed to “Speak Truth unto Power”?

11 Jan, 17 | by Iain Brassington

Guest Post by David Lock QC

[NB: This is a slightly longer version of a post that appeared on the BMJ blog earlier today.]

Politicians, delusional managers and the future of the NHS:  have NHS leaders failed to “speak truth unto power”?

This blog is not a rant – well not too much of a rant.  It is an expression of serious frustration about the way the NHS is run and about the willingness of senior NHS managers to become complicit in dishonesty.  It also needs to acknowledge the brave role of some in the NHS – particularly in NHS Providers – who keep telling it as it is and being decried for doing so.

Everyone at the frontline knows the NHS is running on empty.  The more perceptive know that more money for the NHS alone will not improve services for patients.  But – and this is perhaps the unpopular “but” – NHS senior managers ought to accept their share of the responsibility for the present crisis.  The problem is the failure of NHS managers to “speak truth unto power” to those above them and to our political masters for too many years.  Long before Sir Ivan Rogers used the phrase, a 2015 FCO blog explained the centrality of this concept as part of public service as follows:

The UK Civil Service doesn’t have an official motto – but if it did, it would almost certainly be: “speak truth unto power”. It’s a maxim that’s in the blood of good civil servants, even if they know that it won’t make their lives any easier. The best politicians learn to cherish civil service advice which points out the flaws in their arguments. The worst surround themselves with sycophants who create a micro-climate which wraps a warm embrace around their worst tendencies.

But, this principle appears respected in the breach in the NHS.   The £22bn efficiency challenge came out of nowhere and yet became an article of faith.  Of course, it has not been delivered and was never going to be delivered, but the planning process has continued in a parallel universe where no one has the courage to say “Actually this is nonsense – a public service has never delivered these efficiency savings and the NHS will not do so”.  So the fiction is maintained that this is what the NHS has to do by 2020.  But, of course, we are now in 2017 and so there is precious little time to deliver the undeliverable.

Secondly, the fiction is that the present government is putting an extra £10bn into the NHS, as well as promising an extra £350m per week as a Brexit dividend.  The £10bn claim was never accurate.   No set of “true and fair” NHS accounts could ever include the £10bn claim.  The £350m a week claim was made for votes, not for spending.  And yet who in the NHS has held the government to account for either promise? more…

Trump’s Anti-Regulator

12 Dec, 16 | by Iain Brassington

In the latest edition of “Dude, really?” news to come from the post-election US…

Wait: let me start that again.  In the latest edition-that-I’ve-had-time-to-digest-because-I-really-can’t-keep-up-with-this-stuff edition of “Dude, really?” news to come from the post-election US, it would appear that a strong candidate to head the Food and Drug Administration under Donald Trump is one Jim O’Neill.  According to the Scientific American,

O’Neill would be an unusual choice. He is not a physician, and lacks the strong science background that nearly all former commissioners have had in recent years.

A graduate of Yale University, with a master’s degree from the University of Chicago, O’Neill went to work at the Department of Health and Human Services in 2002, after a stint as speechwriter at the Department of Education. He worked his way up to principal associate deputy secretary, where he advised the HHS Secretary on all areas of policy, according to his LinkedIn page.

Now, so far, that is probably not too big a deal.  Since the head of the FDA is not actually involved in doing any bench science, the fact that he lacks a strong science or medical background needn’t matter too much.  What does matter is that the person in charge of the agency should be able to to consult the right kind of person and so on: in other words, to be broadly scientifically literate, and to have access to specialists.  That sets a much lower bar.  Medical or pharmacological expertise, after all, is much more likely to mean expertise in one comparatively narrow area within each subject than it is to mean a thoroughgoing expertise in the whole field; therefore even someone with a strong science background would have to rely on advice from others when it comes to things outside the postholder’s particular area of study.  Indeed, by the time you’ve worked up the administrative experience to lead an agency, it’s probably a while since you cleaned your last test-tube – so even your notional expertise may not be quite as cutting edge as you’d like to think.  And, working the other way, being a whizz-bang scientist is perfectly compatible with being terrible at what is essentially a senior civil-service gig.

So… not a medic, not a scientist?  Not necessarily a problem.  You just have to know which people to ask what questions – and that’s what you’d be doing anyway.*

But, of course, there’s a “but”.  Actually, there’s several “but”s.

Like, for example, it’s one thing not to have a strong scientific background; but it’s quite another to reveal that more…

A Eulogy for the UK Donation Ethics Committee

13 Oct, 16 | by miriamwood

Guest Post by David Shaw

Re: The untimely death of the UK Donation Ethics Committee

Most people I know want to donate their organs after they die. Why wouldn’t they? If you have to die, you might as well do your best to save several other lives once you’re gone. But organ donation is a more ethically complex topic than many people realise. From Spring 2014 until April this year I was a member of the UK Donation Ethics Committee (UKDEC), which advised NHS Blood and Transplant and the various UK health departments on the ethics of organ donation and transplantation. The committee included doctors, lawyers, nurses, ethicists like me, and ‘lay’ members – ordinary members of the public. In my JME article, I discuss the committee’s work and why it came to an end.

UKDEC dealt with a wide variety of topics. We advised the Welsh Government on the ethical implications of a switch to ‘deemed consent’ to organ donation in Wales, undertook an analysis of the role of the family in donation, and engaged with ethnic minorities and religious groups to facilitate discourse about donation. Most of all, our work was important because we provided practical ethical guidance to healthcare professionals who were often unsure about the ethics and sometimes the legality of new developments in organ donation. Every year new technologies emerge that can enable donation where it was previously impossible, or which can improve the viability of donated organs. Sometimes doctors would approach UKDEC for our advice on their protocols that wished to make use of these new innovations. One of UKDEC’s final publications was a discussion paper concerning so-called “elective ventilation”, where a patient is placed onto on life support not because it will physically benefit him or her, but in order to facilitate organ donation.

But perhaps the most important contribution UKDEC made concerned organ donation after circulatory death (DCD). Nowadays, over 40% of UK donations involve DCD. But until around a decade ago, almost all organ donation in the UK took place after neurological determination of death – in other words, you had to be “brain-dead” before your organs could be donated and transplanted into recipients. In contrast, DCD involves organ donation after a patient’s heart has stopped beating. This might sound relatively straightforward, but in fact many doctors and nurses objected to DCD because of concerns about the potential reversibility of death, the burden on families and perceived conflicts of interest. Indeed, with the use of new technologies, heart donation after circulatory death is even possible, which might seem paradoxical.

more…

Natal Nativism

12 Oct, 16 | by Iain Brassington

Scene: the boardroom of a large NHS Trust, somewhere in England.

“And so that brings us neatly to the last item on the agenda: passport checks for pregnant women who want a checkup.  The thing is, you see, that it turns out that we’ve been providing obstetric care to some women who aren’t actually UK citizens.  And, clearly, that has to stop.”
“To stop?”
“Well, maybe not stop.  But you know what I mean.  We can’t go providing treatment to anyone who comes knocking at the door!  Why, we’d have a queue from here to Timbuktu, not to mention the cost!”
“Oh, quite.  No, I quite agree that we can’t be the world’s supplier of healthcare.”
“No.  So that’s settled, then.  No more obstetric services to women who can’t demonstrate their eligibility.”
“Hmmmm.”
“You don’t look convinced.  What’s the problem?  These women aren’t eligible.”
“Well, no.  But… well, look.  Remember when Dr Smith retired, and when Dr Jones got that transfer to work in the Inner Hebrides?”
“All too well.  Two great losses to the Trust.  What’s your point?”
“Well, I seem to remember that we pooled together to buy them nice leaving presents.”
“We did.  It was the least we could do.”
“I agree.  But, you see, the thing is, they weren’t actually entitled to them.  If you see what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“No.  Well, you see, the thing is, we bought them those presents, and gave them to them, because it’s the decent thing to do.  There’s no rule that says that we have to buy them.  They wouldn’t have been wronged if we hadn’t.”
“Yeeeeeeessssss…  I mean, no.  But yes.”
“But we gave them the presents anyway.  Because the rules set out what’s minimially decent.  Not an upper limit.”
“Yeeeeeesssss…”
“Well, you see, I was just wondering: might the same apply in other contexts?  Allowing for the obvious differences, of course.”
“You’re losing me again.”
“I thought I might be.  Well, you see, it’s like this.  We’ve been providing treatment to pregnant women without paying attention to whether they’re entitled by the strict letter of the law.  And that law specifies who is entitled to treatment.  But that doesn’t necessarily impose any exclusions.  You see, I wonder if by getting bogged down in the rules, we might… um…”
“Might what?”
“Well, you see, the thing is…”
“Go on…”
“Look: we might end up looking like utter shits.”

Wholly fictional, this, of course.  No such conversation took place.  On the other hand, as reported by the Beeb, here’s a document from St George’s University NHS Trust.  Skip to p80: more…

Should Junior Doctors Still Strike?

20 Sep, 16 | by bearp

Guest Post by Adam James Roberts

In early July, the British Medical Association’s junior members voted by a 16-point margin to reject a new employment contract negotiated between the BMA’s leadership and the Government. The chair of the BMA’s junior doctors committee, Johann Malawana, stood down following the result, noting the “considerable anger and mistrust” doctors felt towards the Government and their concerns about what the contract would mean “for their working lives, their patients and the future delivery of care” in the National Health Service (the NHS).

The BMA pressed the Government to reopen negotiations and to reverse its decision to impose the contract unilaterally. Those appeals having been rebuffed, the BMA announced two months later a new programme of strikes, citing concerns about the impacts on part-time workers, “a majority of whom are women”; on those doctors who already work the greatest number of weekends, “typically in specialties where there is already a shortage” of staff; the contract’s implications for the ability of the NHS to “attract and keep enough doctors” into the future; and the lack of an answer as to how the Government would manage to staff and fund the extra weekend care which was so often drawn on to justify pushing that new contract through.

Earlier this year, Mark Toynbee and colleagues argued in the JME that the earlier rounds of strikes by British juniors were probably ethically permissible, noting that emergency care would continue to be available, that the maintenance of patient well-being was apparently a goal, and that the strikers felt they were treating industrial action as a last resort. In a later paper, I attempted to outline and apply an ethical framework drawing on Thomist ‘just war’ theories, reaching the same conclusion about the strikes as Toynbee did.

In this guest post, I attempt to update or supplement that literature, considering some of the more recent and popular arguments against the current rounds of strikes and whether any of them might be morally compelling. In particular, I look at the fact that the BMA’s junior leadership had described the rejected offer as “a good deal”; the argument that strikes are a disproportionate response to the remaining issues; the concerns voiced about the strikes by Britain’s General Medical Council; and the allegation that striking doctors are “playing politics”.

more…

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