Philip Alcabes discusses myths of health, disease and risk.

New Year’s Wishes for Public Health

May 2010 be the year when health officials return to the business of alleviating suffering and stop promoting panic. (Don’t miss Nathalie Rothschild’s “Ten Years of Fear” in Spiked!’s Farewell to the Noughties, recounting the hyped-up panics of the ’00s — from the Y2K bug to swine flu.)

May CDC become a force for real public health, not an advocate for the risk-avoidance canard.  May the new director, Dr. Frieden, stop favoring pharmaceutical companies’ profit making through expansion of immunization.  And may he direct the agency to begin to address legitimate public needs, like sound answers about vaccines and autism, and clear communication about what is — and isn’t — dangerous about obesity.

May WHO officials stop playing with the pandemic threat barometer.  May WHO begin demanding that the world’s wealthy countries devote at least the same resources to stopping diarrheal diseases, malaria, and TB as they do to dealing with high-news-value problems like new strains of flu.   Diarrheal illness kills as many children in Africa and Asia in any given week as the 2009 swine flu killed Americans in eight months.  So does malaria.   Direct policy, and money, toward sanitation, pure water free of parasites, adequate treatment of TB, mosquito control, and prevention of other causes of heavy mortality in the developing world — not just flu strains that threaten North America, Europe, and Japan.

May public health professionals lose their obsessions with bad habits. May the public health profession return to the problem of ensuring basic rights — access to sufficient food, clean water, decent housing, good education, a livable wage, and adequate child care — and ease up on its moralistic obsessions with nicotine and overeating (for recent examples of the preoccupation with tobacco, see this article or this one (abstracts here; subscription needed for full articles) in recent issues of the American Journal of Public Health).

May science be what Joanne Manaster does at her incomparable website: looking at the world with wonder, asking without dogmatic preconceptions how it works, and accepting that its irrepressible quirkiness makes it impossible to know the world perfectly.  May science not be the crystal-ball-gazing thing whose so-called “scientific” forecasts are really doomsday scenes worthy of the medieval Church — predictions of liquefied icecaps and rising seas,  hundreds of millions of deaths in a flu pandemic, or catastrophic plagues sparked by people with engineered smallpox virus.  There are plenty of reasons to be concerned about both the environment and disease outbreaks based on sound here-and-now observations; leave the forecasts of Apocalypse to the clergy, who know how to handle dread.

A new year’s wish (from the valedictory exhortation in Tony Kushner’s Angels in America):  “More life!”

Obesity and Public Health Control

This month’s American Journal of Public Health brings us a primer (abstract here; subscription required for full text), written by lawyers supported by the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, teaching “policymakers to avoid potential constitutional problems in the formation of obesity prevention policy.”

The article isn’t exactly a Steal This Book for the anti-obesity crusaders, but the authors’ stated aim is to help those crusaders skirt legal challenges to statutes that might, for instance, ban fast foods or require the posting of accurate calorie counts on restaurant menus:  “This primer is meant not to deter obesity prevention efforts but to foster them,” the authors adumbrate.

Of course, the anti-obesity crusade is well on its way to using the law to tighten the control of behavior already.  And the failure of restaurant calorie counts to show any effect on eating patterns isn’t dampening enthusiasm, it seems.

Brian Elbel of NYU and colleagues just reported in Health Affairs that the calorie counts now posted by law in New York (another piece of legislation backed by our bluenose mayor) don’t affect how much people eat,  based on a study of over a thousand New Yorkers from minority neighborhoods (abstract here, full article here).  At Freakonomics, Stephen Dubner surmises that this sort of program only helps people “who are already the most vigilant about their health and well-being.”  But it’s hard to find anyone in public health who is opposed.

They should be.   The public health industry, which likes to claim its main interest is human dignity, should be lobbying for less regulation of human appetites, not more.

But public health is often the pre-eminent paradigm of control in our society. Rename the acts or traits you find morally repugnant as diseases, and you can hand them to the health sector for management.   Once you say you’ve got an epidemic on your hands, you can count on the public health industry to respond.  Alcoholism, addiction, smoking, obesity, social anxiety… there seems to be a big supply of epidemics that used to be moral offenses or threats to the social order and are now opportunities for your doctor or your health commissioner — not your clergyman — to tell you how to act.

The neat thing about the control exercised through public health is that you never have to sermonize, read Bible verses, or prophesy Apocalypse.  The rhetoric of risk is a lot easier for the self-professed progressives in public health to swallow than religious sermonizing would be.  Even when the sermon and the risk rhetoric have the identical goal: wiping out the moral offense.

From Junkfood Science, we learn that

Employers will now perform random tests of employees for evidence that they’ve smoked outside of work and will weigh employees in the workplace and report their BMIs to the state. Employees deemed noncompliant with the State Health Plan’s employer wellness initiative, will pay one-third-more for health insurance. Employers believed that eliminating smokers and fat people would lower health costs.

And from WSJ Health Blog, that the CEO of pharmaceutical corporation Schering-Plough agreed (at a meeting at the Cleveland Clinic) that people with unhealthy behavior should pay more for health insurance.  Sure — you certainly wouldn’t want the wealthy to pay more.

That’s not the only problem with the public health industry’s vigorous embrace of behavioral control, but it’s a big one.  Start classifying people based on how they behave, and you begin discriminating against the ones who don’t act right.  But the ones who you think don’t act right are almost always the ones society was already discriminating against — the poor, most of all.

And even when the poor aren’t getting shafted in the crusade against the unhealthy, inquiry about how a just society should work is going down the tubes.  The profound moral-philosophical questions of what is the right way to live a life, the right way to raise children, the nature of liberty, and so forth, are surrendered in the public health paradigm – replaced with the simple dichotomy:  healthy vs. not-healthy.



The “Deadly Choices” Report

Sheri Fink’s thoughtful and masterfully composed “Deadly Choices” report discusses the death of patients at New Orleans’ Memorial Medical Center (MMC) in the days after Hurricane Katrina in 2005 (additional material is at ProPublica).

“Deadly Choices” is heartbreaking.  It recounts a situation that was miserable, terrifying, and in some cases, fatal.  Fink reports that, among 45 Memorial Medical Center patients who died in the days during and immediately following the storm, 17 were deliberately administered lethal doses of morphine, sometimes along with a sedative, by physicians who apparently intended to hasten the patients’ deaths.  (Many of these 17 were patients at a hospital-within-the-hospital, a long-term care hospital under separate ownership that shared some staff with MMC.  At Slate today, Josh Levin discusses some of the troubling truths about the financing of long-term care hospitals, and Fink fills in some more of the blanks with a response at ProPublica.)

As Fink explained to Amy Goodman in an interview with Democracy Now earlier this week, at least one of the patients who were killed was not in extremis; he had not given up.  He was

“Ready to rock and roll, wanted to get out. And apparently, according to several people who later spoke with investigators, a discussion was had in which they talked about how they might get him out, and they decided that because he was so heavy and it was so hot and people had—I mean, just imagine….They had been going on no sleep for days, the medical workers. They were tired. They were terribly disturbed by all the suffering that they felt that they saw around them. And so, in this sort of moment, they apparently decided that [the patient] could not be brought down, could not be evacuated, that there was no way to get him out.”

The story of what happened at MMC is also profoundly disturbing.  It moves us to ask what sort of moral world physicians are expected, and allowed, to operate in.  And to wonder why moral boundaries should be so elusive to exactly the people who, with access to the means to both prolong life and hasten death, walk on morally fraught territory more often than anyone.

The horrifying events at MMC are especially  germane today — because they highlight a vexing question about health care reform that is very hard to answer:   Is our doctors’ job to alleviate suffering, or is it to improve health?

A favored guru on health care ethics, Ezekiel Emanuel, is explicitly in favor of the latter.  In “Justice and Managed Care” (subscription) in Hastings Center Report in 2000, he writes

“The allocation of health care resources should aim at and be justified by the improvement in people’s health…. The special aim or purpose of health care is curing disease, relieving pain and suffering, promoting public health, pursuing research to improve health, and so on.”

The “and so on” means that improving health — the obligation of a health care system, Emanuel asserts — amounts not just to the relief of pain and suffering but also to research and public health, and other tasks as well.  The relief of suffering might not be a priority, that is.  Or it might be a contingent priority, of importance for a limited time, or in certain circumstances — but not the only thing to worry about.

The point is not to vilify Emanuel.  He has opposed euthanasia and physician-assisted suicide, so we should assume that he was as appalled by the actions of the chief physicians at MMC as others were.

But the Emanuelian sensibility is that the system in which physicians work is not meant to be dedicated to the relief of suffering alone.  Rather, it bears other duties as well:  a broad obligation to the public to promote health, and another obligation to contribute (through research) to the future of health care.

In this narrative, the physician is marshal of a campaign — not merely joined in a series of caring relationships with each of a number of patients, but commander of troops who have a long-term goal and territory to win.   By implication, the rights of patients might take second seat to the needs of the public, or to the desire to learn more about how to improve health in the future.  Patients shouldn’t be killed, this thinking goes, but they will have to understand that the prolongation of life is a luxury commodity to which physicians have the keys — and not everyone can have access.

The sense of the physician as a responsible manager, not merely a giver of care, connects with the utilitarian credo, “the greatest good for the greatest number” — a phrase that occurs three times in Fink’s piece as she strives to characterize the sensibility of MMC providers.

But the killings at MMC should, at the very least, make us ask whether it’s a good idea to have doctors making decisions about the greater good — or whether we want them to recognize individual persons above all.

Medicine and Magic

In his post at The Atlantic yesterday, Abraham Verghese made the case that magical thinking is a powerful driver of debates over health and health care.

“We all want to believe that a pill or potion that comes from sea coral or from the Amazon jungle will cure that pain for which little else has worked,” Verghese writes.  The “flip side,” he says, “is that we are extraordinarily sensitive to any suggestion that someone is taking away something we think is good for our health.”

And magical thinking’s influence isn’t limited to cruising the natural supplements aisle or reading the ads in a health magazine.  Sometimes it’s part of expert opinion — and so it becomes part of widespread belief.

Consider how the flu experts talk about the possibility of swine flu’s return this fall. In Monday’s Washington Post, the experts’ words wax electric.  Dr. William Schaffner, chair of Preventive Medicine at Vanderbilt U.’s medical school, asserts that “The virus is still around and ready to explode…. We’re potentially looking at a very big mess.” And Dr. Arnold Monto, a physician epidemiologist at U. Michigan’s School of Public Health, worries “about our ability to handle a surge of severe cases.”

So, even as H5N1 reports that an article in The Independent finds scientists skeptical as to whether there will be a so-called second wave of serious flu outbreaks in the northern hemisphere this fall, we’ve got American scientists suggesting — in high-voltage terms — that something awful is going to happen.

They’re not wrong: something bad might happen.  That’s always true.

But language matters.  And language coming from so-called experts matters a lot.  It has magic.

Vigorous metaphors promote popular fears.  The last time swine flu came around, in early 1976, respected virologist Edwin Kilbourne published an influential op-ed piece in the NY Times (13 Feb 1976), called “Flu to the Starboard! Man the Harpoons! Fill with Vaccine! Get the Captain! Hurry!” Kilbourne urged officials to prepare for an “imminent natural disaster.” Fair enough:  a serious H1N1 flu might have happened in ’76 (it didn’t) — but his whaling metaphor appealed to more than just preparation.  It was about power and authority (“get the captain!”).  Presumably, the authority of science, industry, and government.

And so with other metaphors that are meant to be calls to arms.  There were the warfare metaphors about the alleged threat of bioterrorism, and the plague metaphors about AIDS.  Now, there are explosive metaphors about obesity.

Last year, acting U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Steven Galson called childhood obesity a “national catastrophe,” for instance.  And Dr. Risa Lavizzo-Mourey, president of the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, warned of obesity’s “corrosive” effects, which, she asserted, imperil a generation of America’s youth.  According to Dr. Matthew Gillman of Harvard “You build [obesity] up over generations” — like an electrical charge in a capacitor, like explosive potential, the reader has to presume.

Talking about childhood obesity, Dr. Eric Hoffman of Stanford told the Washington Post that “we have taught our children how to kill themselves.”

Invoking metaphors to create magical thinking isn’t just an American habit.  Childhood obesity is a “time bomb,” according to physician Howard Stoate, chair of Britain’s All-Parliamentary Group on Primary Care and Public Health.

Verghese’s right.  People can be afraid to let go of what they believe they need for their health — however magically.  And magical thinking is inside the way our experts talk to us about health.  That sort of magic can run deep.

The Agony of the A.M.A.

Sam Stein at Huffington Post comments on the American Medical Association’s latest attempt to (as he puts it) torpedo health care reform by opposing any government-sponsored insurance plan.  The AMA’s announcement was reported Wednesday night in the NY Times.

At DailyKos, doctoraaron explains why he is resigning from the AMA, and is participating in Physicians for a National Health Program.  And DemFromCT notes the high public support for reform, provided it’s affordable.

The AMA is already catching flak for sounding like, well, a bunch of doctors interested only in preserving physicians’ privilege.  Of course, that’s what the AMA is – it’s a trade guild, and (it thinks) it’s doing its job.  The only surprise – especially given how many physicians are firmly behind reform of health care financing — is that the organization is so willing to be so open about being so neanderthal.

The AMA’s statement sounds to us like the organization’s dying gasp.  It’s standing up for a vanishing version of what it means to be a doctor.

In fact, the history of the AMA’s own stance toward social insurance is revealing.  In The Social Transformation of American Medicine, Paul Starr explains that until the 1930s the AMA didn’t like the idea of any medical insurance at all — it was fearful that physicians would fall under the sway of the public health establishment if social insurance were instituted and under the control of insurance companies in the case of private insurance. The AMA has always been more worried about doctors losing control over their own practice than about financing.  Patient care isn’t the AMA’s job, and never has been.

Why social health insurance failed in the U.S. is a complicated story.  It involves ideology, of course, but it’s inflected with plenty of nuance:  the troubled relation of labor unions to American industry, the not-so-troubled relation of industrial corporations to the American political establishment, political favor currying, the rise of scientific medicine, the entire question of whether there should be insurance for medical care.  Through it all runs the AMA’s devotion to the image of the physician as independent decision maker.

The reason for the AMA’s death agony today is that it’s defending a dying species.  Physicians don’t get to make independent decisions much.  And the backward-looking AMA isn’t showing any interest in forward thinking about the positive roles that doctors could play in a really care-centered set-up.

The business of doctoring, which was once a trade that pitted physicians against herbalists, apothecaries, surgeons, patent-medicine hawkers, faith healers, etc., competing for access to Americans’ bodies, has become just a trade, once again. Only now, it’s not that physicians are competing with snake-oil salesmen — it’s that the business of caring for Americans’ health is no longer managed by a medical professional working one-on-one with a patient.

That individual suffering isn’t the main focus of the big, costly healthcare system is well known to anyone who has sought diagnosis of a troubling condition or relief from chronic problems.  That physicians are themselves just cogs in the system isn’t so obvious — until you listen to them talk about their own frustrations.  They wish their practice could be driven by patients’ needs or, at least, by evidence on what treatments work best.  But often the control is exerted by the institution, and by insurance companies’ policies on pricing and payout.

The AMA is still fighting for the vanishing breed, though.  Someday soon, the AMA will have to disband because its constituency, the exalted independent physician, will have become extinct and the organization will have failed to recognize just what the rest of America — including most physicians — wants.  Meanwhile, don’t be surprised to hear its dying gasps.

ADDENDUM:

Just saw Abraham Verghese’s “To the AMA:  It’s Not About You” post at Atlantic magazine today.   He urges the organization, “please don’t tell the American public (a public already disenchanted with physicians and health care) that you are doing this for their benefit because of your great concern for the patient. The public does not believe you. They aren’t that naive.”