Another day at the HPC FTP hearings.

Today I attended, as a member of public, the second day of Mr C’s hearing. This was chosen at random.

Most of the hearing had happened yesterday, and this morning’s sitting was restricted to a slow and carefully spoken rehearsal of the argument by the lawyer on behalf of the HPC. The timing of her precisely enunciated speech seemed set by the speed at which the panel could write down what she said – she seemed to be dictating them a narrative. This was followed by a rebuttal by the representative of Mr C spoken in real time, if you will, and in a real regional accent. The gist of this rebuttal was that the case was a waste of time and probably pernicious. The legal adviser present then gave the panel a lot of careful guidance on how to structure the conclusion according to a well laid out formula: going through points a, b, and c, and using special forms of phrasing. They then retired for a very long time indeed to consider their conclusion.

Whilst the panel retired to consider their decision, I took the chance to stroll around the park with Mr C. He is a paramedic working in the ambulance service for more that 20 years, and was dismissed by his NHS Trust last year following a complaint made by another member of staff – I won’t say ‘colleague’ as they had never met before. He has been working for a private company ever since. They had written a very warm reference for the HPC to consider and promised him continued employment no matter what the outcome today. Mr C didn’t know how the HPC got hold of his case - the notice came out of the blue – but he speculates that someone at his old place of work found out he had been re-employed and wanted to cause him more trouble. The truth has yet to emerge. I asked him how the original case arose.

“In essence, I was told that I had saved the patient’s life, but that the Trust wanted it saved like this (indicating one hand), not like that (indicating the other)”. In the process of saving the patient’s life, another paramedic arrived and asked Mr C why he had administered the drug in question. Mr C didn’t want to explain right then and asked him to wait till they arrived at the hospital. When they got to the hospital, different circumstances took over and the moment was gone. After trying to pass on the information 4 times (which was no longer interesting to anyone) Mr C went home without writing a full set of notes. The patient lived, the system worked, but the cover story was not constructed. The other member of staff was more aware of the consequence of this: he had been through a hearing before and did not want to leave himself open to the possibility of it happening again. So, in order to protect himself, conjectures Mr C, ‘he put in a complaint against me’.

Many questions arise:
1. The medication in question is contentious – why? At what level? A little of this was discussed in yesterday’s part of the hearing, but without making much impact. This raises questions about science, practice, and what constitutes a ‘professional’. That is, who is entitled to argue about it? Better, whose duty is it to argue about it? It appears that this level of discussion is effectively out of bounds, which immediately throws into question the meaning of the word ‘professional'. It leaves a black hole in place of science.

Instead of practical knowledge it appears that the HPC restricts itself to the question of whether or not Mr C followed a set of pre-written rules (administrative knowledge). So, the legal advice to the panel followed two lines: had Mr C administered the drug because he didn’t know he shouldn’t, in which case he was incompetent; or did he give it knowing that he shouldn’t, in which case it is misconduct. A third possibility was not mentioned: did he administer the drug having weighed up the situation and deployed his professional judgement? However, the decision was framed entirely in terms of pre-written codes of practice and ethics and took for granted that the medication was mis-used. It was up to his representative to remind the panel that there was no evidence whatsoever that the medication should not have been given! The whole thing was turning on a perception of attitude and behaviour rather than the medical facts of the case.

2. How and why does the HPC select a case to pursue? What were the grounds for pursuing this one? Who is the complainant? If these facts are made clear, it might be possible to make a judgement about the nature of the complaint. As it stands we are forced to take it on face value and swallow an awful lot of questions. In their place come a lot of other questions. Why does the HPC act in this way? Is it pursuing the case for its own gain: to give it something to do? to accumulate a set of statistics? For the pleasure of depriving a man of his livlihood? This is where that vacuous statement comes in handy – it is done to ‘protect the public’. But unless it makes plain who is in danger, and what is the nature of that peril, then no-one can make a sound judgement.

3. Why is the context excluded? In his summing up Mr C’s representative posed the question “was the situation as bad as some of the HPC witnesses made out?” he wanted to know why the case had been embellished. It may be that this is sour grapes, but there may be a reason for their sourness. From my point of view in the public benches, the grapes could easily be sour because the climate is not correct. To push the allusion a little, one might want to talk about the sun not being at the centre of this universe. Instead of grounding the evidence in a Copernican paradigm of truth, it is grounded on a committee’s pre-written prescriptions. As it stands, Mr C was being judged on whether or not he could obey previously written administrative rules where the real event was unimportant. Unfortunately, where this becomes the norm it is not unusual to find people willing to dump each other in the pit in order themselves to avoid a ducking. This is not news. It may be an unintended consequence of this new and emerging system, but our rich and brilliant culture bears silent witness to the fact that it cannot be unexpected.