This past week I have had the privilege of being a guest of the Australian Aged Care Providers Association. As well as being able to take part in speaking and workshops at their National Conference with over 2400 delegates attending, I’ve also been honoured to spend time visiting care and support facilities and projects in the area around Adelaide.

It’s been very insightful, and I want in a future blog to share some of what I discovered about how Australia is tackling issues facing aged care in remote and rural communities and whether there might be things we could adopt and adapt here in Scotland.

But without a doubt the most dominant topic of conversation during my seven days away has been what has recently occurred at the political level in Australia around health and social care.

In Scotland, the conversation around health and social care reform is urgent and vital, and there is no shortage of diverse opinions but it is often overshadowed by political squabbling as evident even in the last few days. Whether it is discussions about the National Care Service about which the Green Party will take a decision today or proposals to address workforce challenges including discrete approaches to immigration, these debates quickly devolve into party-political contests.

Along with many others I have stated before and am more than ever convinced having spent time in Australia that meaningful, sustainable reform of our health and social care system requires collaboration across the political spectrum. Such comment has been dismissed as utopian and folks have said to me it’ll never happen. But it can and I’m suggesting it should.

The recent experience in Australia – both with its Aged Care Act of 2023 and the ongoing 2024 reform, I believe, offers us an instructive example of how we can depoliticise health and social care reform and delivery and focus on the needs of people rather than the priorities of political parties.

The Australian Approach: A model for consensus

Australia’s aged care sector had long been in crisis, but it took the Royal Commission into Aged Care Quality and Safety to bring about comprehensive reform. The Commission’s recommendations resulted in the Aged Care Act 2023, which was a transformative piece of legislation. Central to its success was the bipartisan approach that Australian politicians adopted. After the release of the Royal Commission’s findings, the reforms were not treated as political capital for upcoming elections, but as a national imperative requiring cooperation.

In fact, the introduction of the new Aged Care Bill in 2024 was hailed as a rare instance of bipartisan commitment to long-term social care reform. Both the government and opposition worked together to craft a legislative framework that focused on the rights and dignity of older people. The Bill was designed to address systemic issues in funding, workforce support, and governance, with the shared understanding that reform was needed urgently. It is an ongoing process, and it is not quite over the line and the impressive Aged Care Minister addressed the conference and committed to robust partnership working with the care sector and those who use care supports. But there have already been massive strides including a huge eye-watering commitment to the workforce to increase terms and conditions, which has meant billions of additional resources committed to care and support.

In Scotland, we are at a similar crossroads. The need for reform is acute, but discussions around the National Care Service (NCS) have been mired in party politics and at present seem to be struggling and bogged down.

While every party and interest group including COSLA and the trade unions as well social care providers offers its version of how the care system should be funded and governed, the fundamental issues remain unresolved, and the people who rely on these services are left waiting. In the meantime, care workers continue to face burnout, residents in care homes lack the adequate resourcing of their care they deserve, and families remain uncertain about the future of social care provision in the community as homecare organisations struggle to continue.

Australia’s example shows us that progress is possible when political parties stop treating social care reform as an election battleground and instead commit to long-term solutions. There is a real need to bring all stakeholders – including politicians, care providers, workforce representatives, and, most importantly, the people who use these services – into the conversation.

Depoliticising reform: what can we learn?

1. Independent Commissions:

One of the reasons Australia’s reforms succeeded was the establishment of the Royal Commission, which provided independent, apolitical analysis of the problems facing the aged care sector.

Some might suggest that the Feeley Report was our Commission and indeed it garnered a lot of consensus when it was published. I don’t really think we need a Royal Commission as is being proposed in England – what we lack is political agreement on how you embed the proposals and vision of Feeley because I simply don’t think that is on the table at the moment. We have lost the collective vision at the hands of party political priority.

2. Bipartisanship:

Australia’s aged care reform was achieved through bipartisan negotiation. In Scotland, we must find ways to depoliticise care discussions by focusing on shared goals rather than divergent ideologies. Political parties in Holyrood must come together to agree on fundamental principles for health and social care reform. This may mean embracing ideas from across the political spectrum if they benefit the people who rely on these services and those who work in and deliver them. Those who work in and use care and support deserve real political leadership and a failure to come together and gain bi-partisan agreement will be a betrayal of the social care community and will not be soon forgotten. This is too important an issue to be kicked into the long grass, ignored or indeed fought over in a Holyrood playground.

3. Stakeholder-Led Design:

The success of Australia’s Aged Care Act also rested on the involvement of a wide range of stakeholders. In Scotland, it is essential that any future reform is designed with the input of the people most affected – those receiving care, their families, and the workforce and employers. We have palpably failed to achieve this thus far because despite the warm rhetoric of embedding design approaches stakeholder engagement has been partial and non-inclusive. We cannot afford to continue to have reform designed by civil servants and politicians.

The inclusive Australian approach has ensured that the reforms are not only effective but also respected by those on the frontlines of care delivery.

4. Long-Term Vision:

One of the issues plaguing Scottish social care reform is the tendency for short-term fixes based on political cycles. Australia’s reforms, while still unfolding, have aimed for a long-term vision of sustainability. By creating a framework that stretches beyond electoral timelines, Australia has demonstrated that meaningful change takes time but is worth the investment. The fruit is already evident even within months of change  – workforce retention has improved, and recruitment has become easier because people can see that they are respected and valued maybe for the first time as a key economic sector in Australia. Scotland’s care system, like Australia’s, must be built for the long haul, with consistent funding, workforce support, and regulation designed to last for decades, not just until the next election.

Rebuilding Trust in the System

Australia’s reform process has also been about rebuilding trust in the system. The Aged Care Act of 2023 included provisions for better oversight, accountability, and transparency – elements that were critical in restoring public confidence. Scotland faces a similar challenge. Years of underfunding, mixed messages, and inconsistent policies have eroded trust in social care provision. We need clear, transparent policies that offer stability to those who rely on these services, those who work in them and those who provide them.

In conclusion, as we look to the future of health and social care in Scotland, we must be willing to take party politics out of the equation. Reforming our social care system to say nothing of the NHS, is not about winning elections; it is about ensuring that every person, whether receiving care and support or providing it, is treated with the dignity, respect, and support they deserve. Australia’s experience shows us that bipartisan, human-centred reform is not just possible – it is necessary. Scotland must follow suit and commit to depoliticised, evidence-based solutions that put people at the heart of our care system.

What do our politicians say? Are they brave enough to let go the levers of power, both local and national, and to allow a wider conversation and control? Or will we continue to squabble, disagree and dissent?

Donald Macaskill

Photo by Kay on Unsplash

Today is the last day of International Infection Prevention and Control Week. It’s a week which has been centred on its theme which this year is “Moving the Needle on Infection Prevention.” including a focus yesterday (Friday) on the care continuum and long term care settings.

I have thought about infection prevention and control a great deal in the last few years not least because of my conviction that as a health and care community we got it so badly wrong during the Covid pandemic. In workshop and conference sessions and in evidence submissions I have argued that we need to adopt a much more human rights-based approach in the face of any future pandemic or major event.

The following blog is an attempt to start a conversation on what I mean by a more human rights based approach to IPC, because I honestly do not think that the current Antimicrobial Resistance & Healthcare Associated Infection (ARHAI) Scotland guidance for social care settings is acceptable or human rights based and because I am fearful that another future event will again be dominated by a public health approach devoid of a robust human rights focus.

At the very least the tone and language of associated documentation and practice – including the material produced for the IPC Week – has to start to reflect the reality that a care home is someone’s home and its residents are autonomous individuals with human rights and not occupiers of a space and place of clinical practice. I would go even further and suggest that much of existing IPC guidance for hospital settings is devoid of a human rights perspective.

The Covid-19 pandemic has forced us to re-examine many aspects of our society, and nowhere has this introspection been more needed than in the care of older persons both in our community and in our residential care settings. Care homes became, during the pandemic, epicentres of vulnerability. Lives were lost, families were shattered, and the reverberations continue to be felt. Yet, there is now an opportunity for radical transformation – a move towards a human rights-based approach to infection prevention and control (IPC). This approach prioritises the dignity, autonomy, and the well-being of individuals while ensuring safety and care standards that protect the most vulnerable.

It is impossible to discuss the need for change without reflecting on the trauma that Covid-19 brought to care homes. The pandemic introduced extraordinary measures in care homes: strict lockdowns, isolation, and visitation bans, all in the name of infection control. While these interventions were aimed at protecting physical health, they often resulted in deep social, emotional, and psychological harm to residents, families and staff.

Research has shown that, particularly in the early phases, decisions were made rapidly, and often with a singular focus on controlling infection at the expense of residents’ broader human rights. Lockdowns, blanket visiting bans, and restrictive practices – while intended to protect – often resulted in loneliness, isolation, and psychological distress for residents. A Lancet study noted significant increases in depression, anxiety, and a decline in cognitive health during prolonged isolation in care homes (Hanna et al., 2021).

For many, particularly those living with dementia, the loss of daily contact with loved ones, the curtailment of social activities, and even changes in routine caused irreversible deterioration. Studies like those by the Journal of the American Medical Directors Association (2022) indicate a notable decline in cognitive function and mental well-being in residents subjected to prolonged isolation.

This experience starkly highlighted that safety cannot be achieved at the expense of dignity. The desire to prevent infection must be balanced with respect for autonomy and a person’s right to live a life that is meaningful, connected, and dignified.

Post-Covid, we are faced with an urgent question: How can we protect residents from future infectious threats without compromising their fundamental human rights?

A Human Rights-Based Approach: The Framework

A human rights-based approach (HRBA) to infection prevention and control focuses not only on the technical aspects of controlling infection but also on the values and principles of human dignity, autonomy and personal choice and control. Such an approach involves placing the individual, their dignity, and their autonomy at the centre of care. This is not a simple balancing act but rather a framework that embeds human rights principles into every aspect of decision-making, care delivery, and policy formulation. The technical and clinical dominance of IPC measures however valid should never be at the expense of individual human rights.

1. Participation and Autonomy

One of the cornerstones of a human rights-based approach is respecting the autonomy of the individual. Throughout the pandemic, many older people in care homes had little or no say in decisions about their lives, often because those decisions were made quickly and with public health as the primary focus. Moving forward, we need to ensure that residents, their families, and care staff are active participants in decisions about infection prevention and control. This includes not only informing residents about risks but also allowing them to make choices that reflect their values and preferences. A person’s right to family life, for example, should not be easily overridden in the name of IPC.

2. Proportionality

The principle of proportionality requires that any measures taken are the least restrictive necessary to achieve the intended goal. In the post-Covid era, IPC measures must be carefully calibrated to avoid overreach. Blanket bans on visits or social interaction cannot be justified when more nuanced and individualised approaches, such as testing or social distancing, can be employed. Research has underscored the importance of maintaining human contact for well-being, and we must ensure that future measures respect this vital need. The speedy implementation of the full scope of Anne’s Law in Scotland is a case in point.

3. Dignity and Quality of Life

Infection prevention measures should never undermine the dignity of the residents. For many in care homes, quality of life is just as important – if not more so – than mere survival. Research from The British Medical Journal (2023) highlights the severe psychological impact of extreme restrictions, noting that many residents felt “dehumanized” by the rules that governed their daily lives during the pandemic. Any IPC framework must therefore prioritise preserving a sense of normalcy, allowing individuals to continue engaging in activities that bring them joy, purpose, and connection.

4. Accountability and transparency

During the pandemic, decisions were often made behind closed doors, with little transparency or input from those most affected. A human rights-based approach requires a commitment to openness and accountability. Care home residents and their families must have access to clear, honest information about the reasons behind any IPC measures and be provided with opportunities to voice concerns, ask questions, and seek redress if they believe their rights are being infringed upon.

Learning from research Post-Covid

In the aftermath of the pandemic, research has provided us with critical insights into how IPC measures can be designed to protect both physical health and human rights. For instance, studies suggest that hybrid approaches to visiting can significantly reduce infection risk while maintaining essential social connections. Additionally, a study published in Age and Ageing (2022) highlights the effectiveness of integrating regular testing and infection control education for both staff, residents and family which can reduce the need for more draconian restrictions.

Crucially, research has also shown that infection control policies developed in partnership with residents, staff, and families not only yield better outcomes but also foster greater trust and compliance. Involving people in these processes reinforces the sense that they are not passive recipients of care but active participants with rights that are respected and upheld.

A path to ethical IPC care

The lessons of Covid-19 demand that we rethink our approach to infection prevention in care homes. It is no longer acceptable to prioritise safety in a way that strips individuals of their humanity. A human rights-based approach offers a framework through which we can safeguard residents’ health while also affirming their dignity, autonomy, and right to a meaningful life.

As we look to the future, we must commit ourselves to an ethic of care and support that is not only responsive to the needs of infection control but also rooted in the rights and dignity of every older person. This is not just a policy shift; it is a moral imperative.

We owe it to our older generation to create a future where care and support in a care home during a pandemic is not about survival alone but about living fully, with personal and individual choice, even in times of crisis. We really do need to ‘move the needle’ and reset the human rights conversation on IPC.

Donald Macaskill

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

I’ve mentioned quite a few times over the years about how restorative and important nature is for me, whether that be the countryside or hills, or more recently having the privilege of living by the sea. Sometimes simply walking renews but at other times listening to a podcast adds to the experience.

Earlier this week I listened to what is becoming one of my favourite podcasts. I must confess that I was a late arrival to the world of podcasts but now I appreciate the sheer ease and benefit of getting entertainment, inspiration and knowledge through such an accessible media, whether I am relaxing, travelling or avoiding! One of my favourites has become the BBC’s science podcast ‘Instant Genius.’

My latest one was focussed on the work of Prof Kathy Willis who is the Professor of Biodiversity in the Department of Biology and Pro-Vice-Chancellor at the University of Oxford. I found it inspiring! She was talking about her new book which was published a few weeks ago, entitled ‘Good Nature: The New Science of How Nature Improves Our Health.’ In it she explores the powerful connection between nature and human well-being, drawing on scientific evidence to argue that our interaction with nature has profoundly positive effects on our physical and mental health.

It is a fascinating book full of insights and it started me off thinking about experiences in care homes and in communities. Put simply I think there is very real physiological and neurological benefit in us all becoming more aware of the role that the natural world plays in enhancing our health and wellbeing and I consider that such insights have a lot to teach us about how we have to develop the care and support of older people in the years to come.

I’ll use Kathy Willis’ work to illustrate some of this not least because her work is grounded in robust scientific evidence that demonstrates the impact of nature on human health. I think there are four areas which her work demonstrates which are applicable to care home and homecare provision.

The first is improving mental health. Willis highlights the growing body of research that shows how exposure to nature can reduce stress, anxiety, and depression. She notes work from the University of Exeter Medical School where researchers have shown that living near green spaces or spending time in nature is associated with lower levels of depression, anxiety, and stress. Their study highlights the mental health benefits of access to natural environments in urban settings. She also refers to a study published in The Lancet Planetary Health. This large-scale study, which linked exposure to green spaces with reduced mental health medication use, showed a tangible connection between nature access and improved mental well-being.

I suspect many of us have known the instinctive truth that spending time in green spaces, such as parks and forests, has health benefits but it is really positive to have respected international research to show evidence of lowered cortisol levels (a marker of stress), improved mood, and enhanced cognitive function. In her book Willis delves into the mechanisms behind this, such as how natural environments can restore attention, promote relaxation, and provide a break from the overstimulation of urban life.

For care home providers, this suggests the importance of integrating nature into the daily lives of residents. This could ideally be achieved by creating outdoor spaces with accessible gardens, utilising colour and sensory differentiation for those living with dementia and planted beds at a height which would enable people to continue gardening. Many care homes already have such spaces but if outdoor space isn’t possible then even small indoor areas with plants and trees can offer a calming environment that promotes relaxation and reduces anxiety. Those living in their own homes can be encouraged (or supported) to spend time in nearby parks or outdoor areas and they will evidentially achieve similar benefits from the therapeutic effects of fresh air and greenery.

A related theme in Willis’s work is the physical health benefits of nature. One of the book’s key arguments is that regular exposure to nature can improve physical health. This includes lowering blood pressure, reducing the risk of cardiovascular disease, improving immune function, and promoting physical activity. She shares the insights of ‘Forest Bathing’ (Shinrin-yoku) in describing the research of Dr Qing Li  from Japan, which demonstrates how spending time in forests can lower stress levels, reduce cortisol concentrations, and boost immune function by increasing natural killer cells in the body. This work highlights the physiological and psychological benefits of immersion in natural environments.  She also references studies on phytoncides, organic compounds released by trees, which have been shown to lower blood pressure and improve overall cardiovascular health when inhaled during time spent in forests.

A further study from the University of East Anglia reviewed data from over 140 studies involving more than 290 million people and found that spending time in green spaces was associated with reduced risk of cardiovascular disease, lower heart rates, and lower rates of premature death.

Willis emphasises that access to nature encourages people to be more active, whether through walking, hiking, or other outdoor activities, which directly benefits physical health. Her research and that of others would suggest that for care home residents, particularly those with limited mobility, even moderate interaction with nature can have significant health benefits.

But it is perhaps when we move into a cognitive and neurological realm that nature comes into its own according to Willis. Many of the studies she quotes relate to children, but I would suggest there is a potential benefit in similar research for older adults. For children she cites work from the Barcelona Institute for Global Health which shows that children who have regular exposure to green spaces perform better on cognitive tests, have better attention spans, and show fewer signs of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). This research supports the idea that natural environments enhance children’s cognitive development and mental well-being.

In addition, studies from the US and Scandinavia show outdoor play in natural settings, like school gardens or green play areas, helps foster creativity, problem-solving skills, and social cohesion among children. Why would there not be similar cognitive benefit for older adults?

Indeed, Willis suggests that exposure to nature, particularly for older adults can help improve attention, memory, and cognitive function, making it a valuable resource for those living with dementia or other cognitive impairments. As many practitioners in care home and community care know this can be achieved through cognitive memory activities or using the natural world to manage agitation and confusion. Providing access to outdoor areas, with calming elements like water features or gentle landscaping, can and does reduce anxiety and restlessness.

Fourthly, as a leading advocate of bio-diversity Willis has a lot to say on this subject as it relates to immunology, which is one of our major challenges in residential care and support environments as well as care and support for older persons in the community. She explores the “biodiversity hypothesis,” which suggests that exposure to biodiverse environments can improve immune system functioning. She cites research from the University of Helsinki’s Immunological Department indicating that people who spend time in biodiverse green spaces have stronger immune responses, in all likelihood because they are exposed to a wider range of microbes, which helps “train” the immune system to be more adaptive and less prone to inflammatory diseases like allergies and asthma. She quotes research from Finland that showed children who attended daycare facilities with biodiverse outdoor play areas had significantly higher immune system activity and fewer incidences of inflammatory conditions compared to those in urban, less biodiverse settings.

Willis’s work has many insights but also contains no little challenge especially for urban designers and architects. Her challenge is as valid for care home and residential support developers as any others. In her study she addresses the issue of unequal access to nature, noting that disadvantaged communities often have less access to green spaces, which can exacerbate health inequalities. She advocates for better urban planning and policy changes to ensure that everyone, regardless of socioeconomic background, can benefit from nature’s health-boosting effects.

I found Willis’s work stimulating and thought-provoking – in many senses it portrays nature and the natural world as a prescription for wellbeing. Indeed, she explores the concept of “nature prescriptions”, where she cites some of the work of NHS Scotland which has explored the potential of nature-based interventions to reduce healthcare costs, with preliminary findings showing that patients who engage in nature-based activities, such as walking in parks, have better health outcomes, reducing their reliance on medication for conditions like depression, anxiety, and cardiovascular disease. Willis presents this as a growing trend backed by scientific evidence and discusses how it could become an integral part of preventive health and social care.

In Good Nature, Kathy Willis makes a compelling case for the vital role that nature plays in enhancing both mental and physical health. She calls for more research, better access to nature, and policy changes that recognise nature as a fundamental element of human well-being. Her work argues that reconnecting with nature is not just a luxury but an essential part of a healthy life, advocating for integrating green spaces into everyday environments to benefit all.

The challenge for care home and homecare providers is self-evident – how do we grasp it and make the natural world an ally in our care and support? How do we put nature into the heart of our care planning and support, our service offer and pattern of care? How do we maximise the potential of nature as therapy, incorporating elements of “green therapy” or “horticultural therapy” into care programmes to enhance both physical and emotional well-being, allowing residents or home care clients to benefit from hands-on engagement with nature?

Nature should not be seen as an optional or secondary consideration but as an essential part of promoting well-being. Whether through creating accessible green spaces, encouraging outdoor activities, or using nature-based therapies, care providers have the opportunity to transform the care and support experience by reconnecting residents, those who live in our communities and the care and support workforce with the natural world.

Donald Macaskill

Photo by v2osk on Unsplash

 

It’s been an interesting week where the answer to that question might be both a yes and also a no. Indeed, in the opinion of the Sacha Deshmukh, the chief executive of Amnesty International UK, Scotland has moved into the ‘slow lane’ in terms of human rights advocacy and advancement.

Quoted in The National ahead of a meeting with First Minister John Swinney on Tuesday, Deshmukh said that:

“I’ve got a big concern that Scotland is in danger of moving from the fast lane to the slow lane on human rights…

“I’m not sure whether that is an intentional choice or it’s the result of a series of different choices. But it’s definitely a concern at the moment and obviously one that I think would be really bad.”

He was commenting following the decision of the current administration not to bring forward a Human Rights Bill in the current term of the Scottish Parliament. It was wholly absent from the Programme for Government.

I’ve written on a number of occasions about how that Bill and the proposals to incorporate into Scottish law various conventions especially the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR) gave those concerned about social care and older persons’ human rights a very real opportunity of moving forward both legally and practically. But it would appear that the current administration has found such a Bill to be a distraction or at best not to be a priority.

The Scottish Government has challenged this critique arguing that it wants to continue work on the Bill including more consultation and to ensure that any proposals especially those that might affect reserved matters are properly worked through with the new UK Government. All very reasonable but personally I don’t think such work means you cannot at the same time bring a Bill forward – that is not if you thought it important!

In a week when we’ve celebrated the UN International Day of Older Persons, it’s made me reflect on just how much we have or have not protected the human rights of older persons in Scotland

So, on the positive side of the scales let me start by acknowledging the positive steps we’ve made. In recent years, Scotland has taken a more rights-based approach in health and social care. We have legislation that enshrines the rights of older people to dignity, respect, and autonomy. We’ve seen campaigns, initiatives, and policies aimed at combating ageism. And yet, despite these advances, the lived experience of many older people in Scotland does not reflect these rights in action. That is the uncomfortable truth.

At a glance, one might argue that human rights are universal, and that older people are covered by the same frameworks that protect all citizens. However, dig a little deeper and it becomes abundantly clear that, despite fine rhetoric and grand declarations, older people are systematically overlooked, neglected, and their rights subtly diminished by the institutions that claim to safeguard them.

First, let us consider the fundamental right to health and social care. This is not just about access to services but about ensuring the best possible quality of life for older people. Are we truly upholding that right?

Too often, I hear stories of older Scots facing unacceptable if not obscene delays in accessing the care they need or worse still having services taken away from them. Services are stretched thin, and while the dedication of social care professionals is unquestionable, the systems that support them fall short. We must ask ourselves: Is an older person left to wait months for essential care truly having their right to health and social care upheld? Are we just waiting till they die and stop being a statistic? Is someone forced to choose between heating their home and paying for food experiencing dignity especially now the UK Government has decided that a universal benefit should be withdrawn?

Far too often, the fundamental rights of older adults are compromised or ignored under the guise of resource constraints, logistical challenges, or worse, societal attitudes that reduce older people to burdens. This narrative is corrosive and dehumanising.

The pandemic laid bare many of these issues. It revealed the vulnerability of older people, particularly those in care homes, where a lack of resources, inadequate protection, and isolation threatened not just their physical health but their mental and emotional wellbeing. Human rights should never be something that we remember only in times of crisis; they should be embedded in everything we do—every policy, every decision, and every action. It is clear that that’s no longer a priority for some in our political leadership.

Another cornerstone of human rights is the right to autonomy—the right to make decisions about one’s own life. For older people, this is often eroded, sometimes unintentionally, sometimes systematically.

Take for example the decisions around care and where someone lives. All too often, older people are not given adequate say in whether they can remain in their own home or whether they must move into residential care. Increasingly money talks louder than rights. We must ensure that our citizen voices are central to these decisions. Because when autonomy is removed, we strip away a person’s sense of self, their dignity, and, ultimately, their humanity.

I want to stress that older people are not just passive recipients of care or services; they are individuals with skills, experiences, and contributions that enrich our society. Age should never be a reason to sideline someone’s opinions or contributions. We need to do better at ensuring older Scots are active participants in the decisions that affect their lives, their communities, and the nation. We are currently doing to rather than working with older Scots.

Underpinning so many of these challenges is ageism—the silent, often unspoken discrimination against older people that exists in our society. Ageism permeates our culture, from the language we use to the policies we create. And let us be clear: ageism is a human rights issue. It denies older people the respect, care, and inclusion they are entitled to as equal members of our society.

The way we treat our older population is a reflection of who we are as a society. Do we see them as burdens, or do we value them for the richness of their experiences, their wisdom, and their enduring contributions?

So, where do we go from here? We cannot afford complacency. Human rights are not a static concept; they require vigilance, effort, and commitment. Part of that means we need political leadership that seeks to advance rather than park human rights. Are we doing enough to create a society where every older person can live with dignity, respect, and choice?

Our government must continue to embed human rights frameworks into the heart of social care policy. Funding must be prioritised for the services that older people rely on. We need to reimagine care, towards person-led approaches that place autonomy at the core. But above all, we need to challenge ageism in every corner of our society.

The question, “Are we upholding the human rights of older Scots?” may not have a simple answer, but one thing is clear: we must do better.

In the words of the poet…

In quiet rooms…

In quiet rooms, where time holds sway,

Where voices soft might fade away,

Do we, as a nation, pause to see

The elders’ right to dignity?

 

For years they’ve walked our country’s land,

Built homes with care, with steady hand,

And now, in age, they seek to find

The rights that every heart’s entwined.

 

The right to live, to breathe, to be,

Not silenced by our apathy,

To make their choices, bold and clear,

To live with love and without fear.

 

Yet still we falter, still we fail,

As systems creak, as hopes grow pale,

Isolated in their prime,

Forgotten in the march of time.

 

But human worth does not expire

With age, nor dim with life’s spent fire;

Their wisdom grows, their spirit gleams,

Their rights are more than fragile dreams.

 

It is our task, our cause, our fight,

To lift their voices into light,

To banish ageism’s cruel sting,

And let their song of justice ring.

 

For our strength is measured here,

In how we treat those we hold dear.

The old, the frail, the wise, the bold—

Their rights are ours, their stories told.

 

So let us stand, hand clasped in hand,

And honour them across the land,

For in their rights, our future lies,

In every tear, in every rise.

 

Let justice flow like our streams,

A nation built on human dreams,

Where old and young together strive

For human rights that breathe, that thrive.

 

Donald Macaskill

I have had the honour over a couple of days to be attending and speaking at the European Ageing Conference and during that time to further my own knowledge about and awareness of the delivery of care and support to older people right across Europe I have been talking to lots of practitioners from many countries.

Inevitably such conversations lead you to share and talk about what is happening in your own country. These reflections have also come about at a time when I have been considering what it is was or maybe should be distinctive about the way social care is delivered in Scotland, not least because a few have challenged me as to whether our claims to be ‘different’ in Scotland stand up to any serious scrutiny!

My starting contention is that both in policy articulation, legislative underpinning and in practical application that our approach in Scotland is distinctive, and not just within the United Kingdom but across Europe.

There are for me four main strands which come into play here, firstly policy grounded in a commitment to human rights, a legislative focus upon person-centred or person-led care and support, a particular emphasis upon the nature of community and what is meant by the ‘social’ in social care’, and lastly the belief that social care should be a fundamental right accessible to all who need it, what might be termed a universalist position. These are all somewhat interrelated.

It might be helpful to start with what I would suggest is the foundation of social care universalism.

At the heart of Scotland’s social care philosophy is the principle of ‘universalism.’ We see this particularly relevant within the foundational Social Work Scotland Act of 1968. Scotland has chosen to take a path where social care and support is seen as a public good – a service that should be available to everyone, based on need and not on the ability to pay. This approach contrasts sharply with many parts of the UK and Europe, where social care can often be a postcode lottery, heavily means-tested, and dependent on local funding and resources.

For instance, Scotland’s decision to provide ‘free personal care for those over the age of 65’, regardless of their income or savings, is a testament to this universalist ethos. This policy, in place since 2002, and extended to people under 65 in 2019, has ensured that older people in Scotland receive essential support, from help with bathing and dressing to preparing meals, without the fear of unaffordable costs.

I would be the first to accept that such a universalist policy does not come without consequence not least in terms of sucking up limited resource at the expense of preventative and more upstream interventions. Universalist approaches cost resource and cannot be achieved on the cheap and without fiscal prioritisation.

Nevertheless, as has been seen in the reaction to the UK Labour Government’s recent decision to end the universal principles behind the Winter Fuel Payment, the defence of universalism as a mechanism for social care and advancing wellbeing and addressing health inequalities is robust in Scotland, whether that be prescriptions, bus travel or carers allowance and child support like the Baby Box.

Universalism is a distinctive approach to social care provision not at the moment commonly seen to the same extent elsewhere in Europe. Indeed, many in Scotland would like to see its extension not least to reduce the inequality of treatment and care response to conditions such as dementia.

The universalist approach is not accidental, but I would suggest rooted in a particular emphasis upon the ‘social’ – of which more later. But for now, it is worth stating that the idea of the social relates to broader questions of ‘justice and equality.’ Social care, when viewed through a social lens, is about ensuring that all individuals, regardless of their personal or economic circumstances, have the opportunity to live with dignity. Philosophers like John Rawls emphasise that societies must ensure a fair distribution of resources, including care, so that individuals are not disadvantaged by circumstances beyond their control. The social component of social care thus implies that care is a ‘public good’ and a ‘collective responsibility,’ that there has to be a ‘universalist’ emphasis, that it is not just a private or familial duty as was often the case in earlier care and support in Scotland as elsewhere.

The second dominant strand I’ve mentioned that is distinctive though not perhaps so unique in Scotland is a commitment to human rights and person-centred or person-led care and support.

At least in legislation and policy if not sadly fully in implementation Scotland has embraced a model where care and support is not simply about managing needs or balancing budgets but about recognising and valuing the inherent dignity and worth of every individual.

The Social Care (Self-directed Support) (Scotland) Act 2013 embodies this philosophy at its best. It gives individuals greater choice and control over their care, enabling them to decide how their support is provided, whether through direct payments, direct public sector care services, or those purchased from independent providers or a mix of all. This is about putting the person at the heart of their own care journey, empowering them to shape the support they receive around their own needs, aspirations, and preferences. It should not be about maintenance but about enabling a person to thrive and flourish.

It strikes me in some of the conversations I have held that elsewhere in Europe, social care can still be overly bureaucratic, prescriptive, and service-led, Scotland has taken steps to ensure that individuals are not passive recipients of care but active participants in their own lives. This is a fundamental shift, from a paternalistic model of care to one where the rights, choices, and voices of those who use care and support services are prioritised above all else.

This is a journey, and we have a considerable distance to go to its full realisation in Scotland and for me I believe that this has to be grounded by embedding the human right to social care as part and parcel of the development of wider human rights legal protections.  Added to this is the urgent requirement to develop mechanisms to ensure adequate redress where bodies and persons are found not to have acted in a manner which upholds the human right to social care.

A third and further strand which I think is distinctive is an emphasis on the ‘social’ and the communitarian and a resultant focus in policy if not sufficiently in practice upon prevention, early intervention, and community-based care and support. There is an accepted understanding that the best way to support individuals is to prevent the need for more intensive care in the first place. This means investing in community services, promoting health and well-being, and supporting people to live independently for as long as possible.

This, for me at least, stems from a dominant philosophical and policy thread in Scotland which emphasises the ‘social’ in ‘social care’ and indeed ‘social work’ – it’s one of the reasons why the increasing use of the phrase ‘health and care’ rather than ‘health and social care’ is for me more than just a linguistic irritation.

The concept of the ‘social’ in social care carries significant philosophical and policy implications. It reflects both an ethical understanding of human relationships and obligations and shapes the ways in which care is structured and provided within societies.

Philosophically, the concept of the ‘social’ emphasises the ‘interconnectedness of individuals within a society.’ It moves beyond a purely individualistic view of human needs to recognise that care, well-being, and health are deeply rooted in social relationships and structures. It reflects ideas in ‘communitarianism’, which argues that individuals are embedded in a network of social relationships and that their well-being depends on their connections to the community. It also challenges the more atomistic views of human beings that are often emphasised in liberal or market-driven frameworks, which tend to see individuals as self-sufficient.

Such a social and communitarian understanding is, I would contend, rooted in the pages of the 1968 Social Work Scotland Act – services are there not to be an end in themselves but to enable people to be as independent as possible. The 1968 Act is foundational in that it established local authorities’ responsibilities for providing social work and social care services in Scotland. It outlines the duties of local authorities to assess needs and provide appropriate social care services. The Act remains a cornerstone of social care legislation in Scotland, forming the basis for subsequent reforms and additions.

Its emphasis upon independent living was strikingly different from what had come before with a stress upon institutional care and support. But independent living was not about living alone, separate or detached from others. Social care is deeply communitarian in that it was and is about enabling people to be part of their communities and to actively – should they desire – be able to exercise the full citizenship of belonging to the local community. This is about an approach to care and support where the resourcing and developing of community supports and connections is as profound a dimension of social care as the delivery of direct services.

This approach also represented a more holistic understanding of social care, seeing it not just as financial support but as comprehensive care that also included social and emotional support within the community context.

Critically and perhaps something that in straitened financial times is forgotten was that in the 1968 Act local authorities were also empowered to intervene and offer social services aimed at ‘promoting well-being’ and addressing a wide range of social issues, including poverty, family problems, and issues faced by children and the elderly.

Therefore to sum up – a critical aspect of the distinctiveness on social care in Scotland is the emphasis in policy and philosophy upon the ‘social’ within social care. Its importance is because philosophically it highlights the relational, collective, and ethical dimensions of care, positioning it as a core aspect of human interdependence and moral responsibility. In policy terms, it shifts care from being a private, individual matter to one of public responsibility, leading to state involvement, universal access, and the integration of care within broader welfare systems.

In conclusion, I think there are reasons to be proud of and celebrate Scotland’s distinctive approach to social care, but at the same time we know there is still much more to be done. The proposed National Care Service (NCS) represents a historic opportunity to take forward the values of universalism, human rights, and person-led ‘social’ care and support on a national scale. But it is also a moment that calls for courage, vision, and a steadfast commitment to the principles that have made our approach to social care unique. I will leave for another time a reflection as to whether or not the current NCS proposals achieve that protection and further realise the vision.

In Scotland, we are on a journey — one that embraces a distinctive path marked by fairness, equality, and the belief that everyone has the right to live a full, independent life. There are obvious risks to a universalist approach that emphasises the social within care and support and that embeds dignity and human rights. Ignoring them with naive dreaming will not protect what has been developed over the years.

Social care in Scotland should not be seen as just a service or model – it is a testament to the kind of society we are and the kind we aspire to be, and that’s a social one!

 

Donald Macaskill

Photo by Shane Rounce on Unsplash

Today, is World Alzheimer’s Day, and every year when this day comes around I’m sure I am not the only one who pauses to remember the lives I have known, not least my own late mother, who have been affected by dementia. It is a day for reflection and remembrance but also, I think a day when we should seek to re-focus and renew our efforts and energies in the battle against this pernicious disease.

I have spent a couple of days in London this past week at various meetings and been inspired by people and projects which are every day seeking to make a difference to those who are living with dementia and to their families and friends. And the emphasis upon ‘living with’ is important.

It’s also been a time when I’ve been reflecting on the extent to which things have changed for better or worse in our support around dementia in Scotland.

Scotland has long been recognised as a leader in progressive dementia care. Our approach is shaped by a commitment to compassion, human rights, and person-led support. I really do sincerely believe and have personally witnessed the truth that this commitment is not just a policy or a strategy; not just rhetoric and empty words but it is a deeply held conviction that every person living with dementia should have the right to live their lives to the fullest, regardless of their diagnosis.

The Scottish Government’s Dementia Strategy, now in its third iteration, ‘Everyone’s Story’, continues to focus on key priorities: ensuring timely diagnosis, providing personalised care and support, and promoting the rights and participation of people living with dementia. It recognises that dementia is not just a medical condition but a profoundly human experience that affects every aspect of life. That is why our approach in Scotland is aimed at being holistic — it encompasses healthcare, social care, community support, and a commitment to upholding the human rights of those living with dementia and their families.

I have been vocal in my contention and criticism that all these positives without an underpinning of resource and fiscal prioritisation are leaving the dementia community in Scotland far short of the aspirations and goals we all want to achieve. We will sadly never ensure that every person living with dementia is supported to live well and with dignity unless we are prepared to pay for that fulfilment to become reality. Indeed, the experience of so many living with dementia at the moment is care packages cut and waiting weeks to get a care home placement – all suggesting a lack of fiscal priority.

Social care practitioners in Scotland recognise that people with dementia are not passive recipients of care but active participants in their own lives. Our task is to support their autonomy, enable choice, and promote independence.

One of the most important developments in recent years has been the adoption of a human rights-based approach to dementia care, grounded in the principles set out in the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UNCRPD). This approach ensures that people living with dementia are treated with dignity and respect, that their voices are heard, and that they have access to the support and services they need to live well in their communities.

But perhaps the one thing which I celebrate the most today is the way in which the isolating nature of dementia is being addressed up and down Scotland through the work of dementia friendly communities and meeting centres. These communities are not just about putting up signs or making superficial changes; they are about fostering real understanding, compassion, and connection.

A dementia-friendly community is one where every individual, from shopkeepers to bus drivers, from teachers to local government officials, understands the condition and knows how to respond with empathy and practical support. It is a community where people with dementia can continue to do the things they love — go to the football match, visit the library, or simply enjoy a cup of tea with friends.

It is no accident that Scotland’s approach to dementia is rooted in community, for such is the heart of all social care. Dementia affects not just the individual but their family, friends, and the wider community. It is critical to recognise the community dimension of dementia and other long term conditions and to affirm that communities have a vital role in supporting people with dementia and creating environments where they feel safe, valued, and included.

But we must also recognise that true community inclusion goes beyond creating welcoming spaces; it is about ensuring that people with dementia have meaningful opportunities to participate in community life. Whether it’s through volunteering, participating in social activities, or simply having a chat with a neighbour, every connection matters.

Equally on this day we cannot forget the thousands of unpaid carers — the family members, friends, and neighbours — who provide the bulk of care and support for those living with dementia. They are the true frontline of care and compassion, often juggling work, family commitments, and their own health, while providing loving, tireless care.

In Scotland, we are committed to supporting these carers, who are often stretched to their limits physically, emotionally, and financially. The Carers (Scotland) Act 2016 has been an important step forward, offering carers a right to support, advice, and respite. However, there is still a huge amount still to be done to ensure that carers are recognised, valued, and supported in their own right.

On this World Alzheimer’s Day, we must renew our commitment to supporting these carers. The Carers Act was a significant step forward, but we must do more. We need to ensure that every carer has access to the support, respite, and recognition they need and deserve. No carer should ever feel alone, overwhelmed, or undervalued. Their contribution to our society is immeasurable, and it is time we matched our words with deeds.

This year’s theme for World Alzheimer’s Day, is “Never Too Late to Make a Change.” It is a clear call to action — a reminder that it is never too late to ensure that every person with dementia in Scotland has their rights respected, their voices heard, and their choices honoured. We are not there yet!

We must continue to advocate for a health and social care system that is worthy of the name — one that is grounded in the principles of fairness, equity, and rights. We must push for a social care and health system that does not treat dementia as an afterthought but as a priority, ensuring that everyone, regardless of where they live, receives the care and support they need.

And we must never lose sight of the fact that behind every statistic is a person — a person with dreams, desires, and a deep need for connection, belonging, and love.

We strive every day to create communities where dementia is met not with fear, but with compassion; not with silence, but with advocacy; not with resignation, but with hope.

Let today be a reminder that it is never too late to make a change, to be kinder, to be more inclusive, and to ensure that every person living with dementia has the chance to live life to the fullest.

Regular readers will know I’m in a Jackie Kay mood at the moment as I re-visit her poems. One that has always spoken to me about memory and loss and about my own family dementia story is her poem ‘Keeping Orchids’. In this poem she has written poignantly about identity, family, and the fragility of memory, which when I first read it resonated deeply with the experience of dementia.

The reference to flowers that hold onto life and memory, buds that remain closed like secrets, served for me at least as a metaphor for the complex, often fragmented experience of memory and identity in dementia.

‘Keeping Orchids’

The orchids my mother gave me when we first met

are still alive, twelve days later. Although

 

some of the buds remain closed as secrets.

Twice since I carried them back, like a baby in a shawl,

 

from her train station to mine, then home. Twice

since then the whole glass carafe has crashed

 

falling over, unprovoked, soaking my chest of drawers.

All the broken waters. I have rearranged

 

the upset orchids with troubled hands. Even after

that the closed ones did not open out. The skin

 

shut like an eye in the dark; the closed lid.

Twelve days later, my mother’s hands are all I have.

 

Her voice is fading fast. Even her voice rushes

through a tunnel the other way from home.

 

I close my eyes and try to remember exactly:

a paisley pattern scarf, a brooch, a navy coat.

 

A digital watch her daughter was wearing when she died.

Now they hang their heads,

 

and suddenly grow old – the proof of meeting. Still,

her hands, awkward and hard to hold

 

fold and unfold a green carrier bag as she tells

the story of her life. Compressed. Airtight.

 

A sad square, then a crumpled shape. A bag of tricks.

Her secret life – a hidden album, a box of love letters.

 

A door opens and closes. Time is outside waiting.

I catch the draught in my winter room.

 

Airlocks keep the cold air out.

Boiling water makes flowers live longer. So does

 

cutting the stems with a sharp knife.

 

Keeping Orchids by Jackie Kay – Scottish Poetry Library

Photo by Kyla Flanagan on Unsplash

Donald Macaskill

 

The following extended blog was the substance of an address given at the second Social Care Nursing Conference, held in Edinburgh on the 4^th September.

At various points today and in a lot of conversation and chat we have used the phrase ‘social care nursing.’

It is one which I first came across when Scottish Care undertook research which became when it was published, the ‘Voice from the Nursing Frontline‘ all the way back in 2017. That was the first major piece of work undertaken in Scotland to actually discover the thoughts of and issues of importance to nurses who worked in a social care setting, predominantly care homes.

But the nature and distinctive role of social care nursing is often misunderstood, sometimes undervalued, but I would argue undeniably essential.

Indeed, at a recent nursing meeting some colleagues pondered about where the phrase came from and what it meant. Why is it, for instance, that our neighbours in England have for some time an appointee who is Chief Social Care Nurse?

So, with your permission I want to briefly reflect on why I believe it is important that we use the term and more especially why we need to stoutly advocate for social care nursing.

Put simply I would contend that

“Social care nursing refers to the provision of nursing care within social care settings, primarily focusing on the holistic needs of individuals in residential or community environments.”

It involves working with people who for one reason or another are both clinically and societally vulnerable and in need of support and care, such as the elderly, those with disabilities, and individuals requiring long-term care.

Social care nurses integrate core nursing skills with an understanding of social care systems, often collaborating with other professionals to support individuals in their daily lives.

The term “social care nursing” began to gain recognition in the UK around the early 2000s. The specific term “social care nursing” is difficult to trace to a single, definitive point of origin. It emerged as the boundaries between health and social care became more integrated, particularly with the increasing emphasis on person-centred care and the growing demand for nursing expertise within social care settings. This development was part of broader health and social care reforms aimed at improving care delivery and outcomes for individuals requiring long-term support.

What is Social Care Nursing?

Social care nursing is distinctive because it blends clinical nursing skills with an emphasis on social care, focusing on the broader, long-term needs of individuals in community or residential settings. Unlike other nursing disciplines which might prioritise acute care in hospitals, social care nursing is centred on supporting people in their daily lives, often addressing chronic conditions, disabilities, and the complexities of aging. It requires a deep understanding of social care systems, person-led care approaches, and often involves working collaboratively with multidisciplinary teams to enhance overall well-being and independence.

The social aspect of social care nursing is critical and distinctive – it is the delivery of nursing care and support not just to an individual within a community environment, but to the community of persons within a social care setting. The collective, communal, relational dimension is key to the distinctive and uniqueness of such nursing. This is not just nursing to maintain individual health and wellbeing, but that of the wider network of relationships and community.

I am not saying that acute or indeed community nursing does not focus on the personal or is not person-led, but there is something very different about delivering nursing and clinical care within a social care setting.

Some may ask – is this not just nursing? Ordinary nursing? Well on one level yes, but on another level, it is important to recognise the distinctive aspects of different disciplines within nursing. To celebrate those differences within the one family, in order to grant to that distinctive strand a sense of value, autonomy and respect is I think critical for that discipline to have a sense of identity and to better understand its contribution to the field of nursing.

I would not say to a learning disability, a paediatric or an intensive care nurse that there was nothing ‘special’, distinctive or unique about their role. That would be to undermine their specialist knowledge, skill, aptitude and contribution to a clinical or care team.

Alas I have heard too often the phrase or equivalent that ‘you are just a care home nurse’ or that there is nothing ‘special’ about being a nurse in a care home or social care setting. Even worse that it is an ‘easier’ form, of nursing. And I do sometimes wonder if the resistance amongst some, including those in nursing education, to the specialisms around aged care, dementia, late-stage neurological conditions etc, has more to do with systemic and societal ageism and discrimination than anything else.

Social care nursing is different. It is special. It needs to be celebrated and recognised for its own distinctive contribution. But when I articulate as I will briefly why it is important and distinctive that is NOT me seeking to demean other forms of nursing.

Essential elements.

At its core, social care nursing is about holistic care. It is about providing care that is as much emotional and psychological as it is physical. It is about supporting people in their own homes, in care homes, or in their communities. It is about understanding the diverse needs of older people, people with disabilities, those with mental health challenges, and those who are living with long-term conditions. It is about helping people to live their best lives, no matter their circumstances. In that sense it is inherently social care which is about enabling the fulness of individual life and contribution.

Social care nursing is not confined by walls. It is not limited to the sterile environment of a hospital ward or the controlled setting of a clinic. Social care nurses work in the real world, in the places where people live their lives. So too do our colleagues in community nursing but the distinctiveness again is that these are nurses who work in specific social care settings. Which are not just buildings but communities of inter-relationships.

They work in care homes that become real homes. They work in a way that seeks to ensure that care must be personalised, sensitive, and respectful of privacy and dignity.

Social care nursing is vital because it meets people where they are. It supports those who are often the most vulnerable, the most marginalised, and the most in need of compassionate, human-centred care. While other types of nursing are undoubtedly critical — whether it is in surgery, in A and E, or in acute care — social care nursing stands apart because it focuses on living, not just surviving. Its focus is on how someone can achieve their potential (not just be maintained and clinically well.)

It is important because social care nurses do not just care for people; they care about people. They do not just address symptoms; they address the whole person. They help individuals manage the complexities of daily life, maintain independence, and achieve their own unique aspirations. They are the link between health and social care, bridging the gap and making the transition from one to the other seamless and person-led.

What unites many of these characteristics is that social care nursing is fundamentally about the development, nurturing and maintaining of long-term relationships. Such relational care is not always possible in other settings, but a social care nurse is (or at least should be) gifted with the ability to enable someone to tell their story, to build a relationship with someone so that trust and openness and confidence can be formed. The practitioner becomes part of the person (and their family’s) story.

But let us be clear — I really do believe that the importance of social care nursing goes beyond the care provided to individuals. Social care nursing is also about shaping communities. It is about advocating for the rights of those we serve, about speaking up for those who cannot speak for themselves, and about ensuring that everyone — regardless of age, ability, or circumstance — has the opportunity to live with dignity and respect.

Therefore, social care nurses are champions of social justice. They challenge inequality and injustice wherever they find it. They do not accept that someone should receive less care because they are older or less attention because they live in a rural community. They believe in fairness, in equality, and in the fundamental human right to care and support.

Social care nurses are innovators. They are creative, adaptive, and resourceful. They are constantly finding new ways to deliver care in challenging environments, to meet needs with limited resources, and to bring about positive change in their communities. Partly this is because of the highly autonomous way in which they work, but if you want a problem solved get a social care nurse!

Why We Must Value Social Care Nursing

So, let us recognise the unique role that social care nurses play. Let us value their work, their dedication, and their compassion. Let us understand that social care nursing is not secondary to any other form of nursing; it is essential. It is essential to the individuals we care for, to the communities we serve, and to the society we seek to build — one that values every person, cherishes every life, and upholds the dignity of all.

Social care nursing is about the moments that matter — the moments of joy, of connection, of comfort, of companionship. It is about being present in someone’s darkest hour, about celebrating their smallest victories, and about ensuring that, whatever their journey, they do not walk it alone.

So today, I hope we can all celebrate social care nursing; recognise its importance, advocate for its value, and ensure that it receives the recognition, the respect, and the support it deserves.

Because when we champion social care nursing, we champion nursing.

Donald Macaskill

Photo by Clark Tibbs on Unsplash

Today is the Global Day of Care and Support for Older People.

It was a day which was launched at the Global Ageing Conference when it was held in Glasgow at this time last year in 2023. It is a day which is being marked globally by organisations, care providers and staff.

At the event last year Jiri Horecky, Chair of the Global Ageing Network, told delegates at the Glasgow conference, that the day is a chance to recognise the work of the “most important pillars” of our social care systems:

“We would like to pay respect to them and show how important those social care workers, nurses, volunteers and all those people supporting older people are.”

So today in diverse ways the value of older age will be celebrated by means of affirming those who are working in our health and social care systems and services. The specific day for older people themselves is held every year on the 1^st October, the United Nations International Day for Older Persons.

The Global Ageing Network together with Scottish Care and the National Care Forum brought hundreds of people together at the event in Glasgow last year from 52 countries in order to debate, reflect and consider issues of importance in what is internationally known and termed as ‘aged care.’

A year on from that day a series of reflections will appear on later on today (Saturday 7^th) on social media and on the Scottish Care website from contributors who attended the event from England, Canada, Kenya, Italy and Australia. Have a look at their reflections of how a year later they are working to make real change in their own local communities, whether that is using technology in new and innovative ways, addressing how we can better support international workers, starting desperately needed homecare in deprived and poverty-stricken areas or developing co-housing options and so much more.

Every story has shown me that gathering people together from all parts of the world has an amazing effect of changing folks, of inspiring and helping people to feel part of something bigger, a global community which has shared values and core concerns.

I reflected last week in my blog about how important it is that those of us who work and live in the worlds of health and social care need to take risks and lift our heads above the protected parapets of our own world and to venture into new possibilities and ways of doing and being. Too often we limit ourselves and our imaginations to that which we know, the voices we have heard, and the experience we alone possess. In my mother’s time as a child in a Hebridean island the next world was the village over the mountain. We dare not limit our discovery to that which we know. That is why in all walks of life I believe, and no less in the care and support of all our citizens, we need to drink deep from the wells of our common humanity.

In my global conversations this week a year on from the Global Ageing Conference I have been reminded of the global smallness of our concerns in the face of grinding poverty and harsh circumstance. I have been reminded that despite our differences of culture, race and reality, that there are common threads of our humanity with one another than bind us in cords of unbreakable responsibility and connection.

In further reflection on the event last year, I remembered that I thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to tell a bit about Scotland’s story by being able to speak both in a plenary session and in a workshop. And one of the things I spoke about was the aspiration which had resulted in the Scottish Government of the day bringing forward proposals for a new Human Rights Bill which would incorporate some of the international human rights protections for individuals into our own national law. The plans to ensure that there would be greater accountability to some of our most vulnerable citizens and increased requirements to ensure human rights were upheld by public bodies and other agencies and organisations were not insignificant.

So it was therefore with immense disappointment but perhaps not surprise that I saw the current administration drawing back from the earlier proposals and plans to bring forward a Human Rights Bill in this week’s Programme for Government.

Now I grant you that as I work in a sector which is facing inordinate challenge (and for whom the Programme for Government was an immense flop! (more of that later)) and as someone who has spoken this week to people across the globe – you might think that introducing another Bill to add to the existing human rights protections was not something of priority and significance. But I would beg to disagree because enshrining in our law, clearer duties and powers to ensure that the old, those with disabilities, those who have no voice, those who require protection, those who struggle to access health and social care – and so much more – to ensure that all citizens have added protection is not of secondary importance but is primary.

The priorities of a government are mirrored in the legislative programme it seeks to adopt and implement and I am not at all sure what dropping the Human Rights Bill and the years of work and commitment to get to this stage says about the current administration. But I fear it does not say anything positive. It serves to shrink our ambition, limit our horizons, and squash our aspirations as individuals and as civic society. This is not the global and international courage and viewpoint which I would say is the essence of our nationhood.

To age is a global journey. To protect all as we age by robust human rights frameworks and laws should be the task of every government regardless of resource or political priority.

At the Global Ageing Conference last year, I shared some of my favourite Scottish poets with some old and new friends, highlighting the nature of outward looking optimism and international engagement which lies at the heart of the Scottish character.  A colleague in turn introduced me to one of their favourite poets, the Nigerian poet, Gabriel Okara. One of his poems, “The Old Woman” reflects the deep respect and reverence traditionally accorded to elders in many African cultures, where aging is often associated with wisdom, experience, and a wealth of knowledge. The poem describes the physical changes that come with age, not as losses, but as a transformation that carries its own form of beauty and significance.

It captures the universal insight that aging brings with it a unique understanding of life, which can be shared with others. The call to “sit at the feet of the old woman” encourages a global perspective of valuing the elderly for their experiences and insights, recognising that their stories hold the lessons and heritage of all humanity.

It is a poem of global relevance on this Global day and every day, and its articulation of dignity, humanity and relationship is the essence of all human rights, and it is why we should never as government or individual shy away from extending protection and furthering the realisation of human rights.

The Old Woman by Gabriel Okara

Who can gaze at the hair of the old woman Without being touched by the whiteness of its wisdom?

Who can behold the stooped shoulders of the old woman Without marveling at the weight they have borne?

Who can see the creased face of the old woman Without wondering at the windstorms it has braved?

Who can look into the dim eyes of the old woman Without pondering the visions they have seen?

Once she was a maiden,

With a crown of black hair

And shoulders upright and strong.

Once her face was smooth and fair,

Her eyes bright as the new moon.

But time, that relentless sculptor,

Has carved deep lines of wisdom,

Bent her shoulders with burdens,

Bleached her hair with experience,

Dimmed her eyes with visions seen,

And left her with a legacy

Of tales untold, wisdom unshared.

Come, sit at the feet of the old woman,

Listen to the stories she weaves,

For in her words, you will find the world — Its joys, its sorrows, its hopes, its fears — All nestled in the cradle of her voice.

Donald Macaskill

Photo by Colby Ray on Unsplash

I’m not a great lover of the month of August. For me it has always been a betwixt and between time; the usual warmth of the summer sun is disappearing, the days are beginning to shorten. Change is in the air, and yet we’re not quite into the crisp freshness of the autumn with its intensity of sharp seasonal change and the iridescent colours of the countryside. It’s a month uncertain of where it belongs, neither fish nor fowl.

But in this month of August whose last day is this one what I often try to do is to undertake all those tasks of tidying, sorting and organising which should’ve been done in the spring but clearly with annual repetition and predictability I end up not achieving.

So it was last weekend that I found myself with my equally prevaricating 10-year-old in a futile attempt at tidying a bedroom and specifically trying to organise the shelves of her bookcase. And as the young, determined individual she is she was very sure about the categories which she wanted to use in the organising of her books and one of them was ‘adventures.’

She has a lot of books about adventures! But I quickly concluded as we agreed to disagree that her concept of adventure was somewhat different to my own. It made me start to think about what the word ‘adventure’ really means. What is it that constitutes an adventure in both literature and maybe more so in life itself?

It’ll come as no surprise to regular readers of this blog that I soon delved into the etymology and root meaning of the word. I discovered that the word ‘adventure’ has at its root a Latin word ‘adventurus’ which has the connotation and has the meaning of ‘about to arrive’ and ‘ about to happen’ and indeed is the root of the word advent which is used for the weeks before Christmas.

It wasn’t until the mediaeval period in the 13th century that the word was first used to suggest an activity of uncertainty, of risk or chance and at the same time fun and enjoyment.

I couldn’t help thinking about that sense of adventure, of risk taking, of doing the unpredictable and the unexpected when I sat and listened to some of the words of the Prime Minister in his alternative Number 10 garden party last Tuesday. In a speech which was the very reverse of ‘you’ve never had it so good’ we had ‘the worst is still to come.’ Negative foreshadowing and warnings of doom and gloom not least in the coming October budget.

Now I’m not for one minute belittling or demeaning the challenges which this new government is facing or the decisions that both it and as a consequence the Scottish Government may have to make. Indeed, anybody working in the world of social care could not escape the reality of challenge of these days both fiscally, operationally and humanly.

But surely it is how you respond to such challenges that is important? Is our response to be one of appropriate adventure and calculated risk taking or one of passive acceptance and compliance?

‘Walk on air against your better judgement’ is the phrase which appears as an epitaph on the grave of one of my all-time favourite poets the Irishman Seamus Heaney, the anniversary of whose death was yesterday.

The quote is in his 1995 Nobel Prize for Literature acceptance speech though it first appeared in an earlier poem. In a 2008 interview Heaney was asked why he chose it. He said:

“A person from Northern Ireland is naturally cautious. You grew up vigilant because it’s a divided society. My poetry on the whole was earth hugging, but then I began to look up rather than keep down. I think it had to do with a sense that the marvellous was as permissible as the matter-of-fact in poetry.”

The historian Eugene Kielt said of the phrase:

“It is a beautiful line, very inspirational. It is about going for it. We are naturally cautious and sometimes someone should throw caution to the wind… It is about keeping your feet on the ground but looking up as well. It is about risk taking and not being inhibited, losing your inhibitions.”

Is that not in essence what adventurousness is all about? Yet perhaps those of us who work and breathe the life of care and support are more used to risk assessment, of calculating and weighing up to such an extent that it paralyses us from taking the step out into the unknown into the unpredictable.

Over the years working with adults who have used care and support services I have often heard the plea from people that they should be allowed to step out into the bravery of the unknown, that their lives should not be limited and curtailed because of the fears of others; that there is more to life than every moment being assessed on a matrix of safeguarding and protection.

This past week I have felt as August ends and perhaps more than ever before that the whole social care community in Scotland needs to discover some of the brave invitation of Seamus Heaney and to walk on air against our better judgment. I think the time has long since come that those who use care and support services, those who provide them and work in them, should grasp the control wheels and take the future map of our sector away from the hands of politician and policy maker.

Life if it is anything is an adventure. Social care if it is about anything is about enabling people to discover the fulness of life and to reach for and thrive to their potential. It is about walking on air against our better judgment.

So as the autumn months start, I intend to be braver and more adventurous, to spend time living in and pulling myself into a future which is a human happening all around us. Caution should not curtail but find itself thrown into the air.

Where is our spirit of adventure? Where are the places and spaces where we can walk on air? Where are the people prepared to join us in communities which create possibility rather than seek to fulfil pessimistic despair?

The social care adventure starts with our feet on the ground of reality but our heads and hearts breathing the air of hope.

Donald Macaskill

Photo by Lukasz Szmigiel on Unsplash

Well, it came to an end this week, or at least on this side of the Atlantic. After months on the road the phenomenon which is Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour ended a five-night run in London’s Wembley Stadium. The BBC reported that The Eras Tour has seen Taylor perform to ‘almost 1.2 million fans in the UK, and last night’s show was the 131st date of the tour worldwide. Speaking at the gig, she said: “I’ve never had it this good before. I’ve never had a crowd that’s so generous.”’

The economic benefit to the communities and locations in which she has toured has been enormous. The Taylor Swift phenomenon has impacted right across the UK this summer… and I must confess, even if grudgingly at first, I have become a Swiftie! It is hard not to do so with a ten-year-old as part of your life constantly turning the car radio onto one of the many 24-hour Taylor Swift channels.

But behind all the feathers and friendship bangles, the Stetson hats and t-shirt dresses, it is the lyrics to her songs which have caught my attention. In no small way she is one of the few whose ability to craft meaning through words and music, and to tell a story of depth and insight, makes her for me at least rank along my all-time hero Bruce Springsteen. And no more so than in speaking of grief, hurt, loss and sadness.

I grew up at a time when people very rarely talked about their feelings and what might be called the big questions of life, especially about death, dying, grief and loss. Emotions were buttoned up and put aside and folks argued we just needed to get on with living.

But over time that cold detachment within society has gradually thawed. And a major contributor to that change has been the way in which the arts and entertainment has become the vehicle and means of expressing deeply held thoughts and emotions.

Indeed a few years ago I used to run a workshop called ‘Death at the Movies’ in which I tried to help health and care staff to recognise that everywhere in contemporary cinema the themes and issues people tried to ignore and shy away from were staring them in the face – literally!  I tried to show that whether in the world of the latest Disney movie or on popular TV soaps that there was an honest and a very real, sometimes raw, attempt to deal with the hard questions of life, death and meaning in a way which helped people open up and to start to talk.

I would suggest that remains the case in a lot of contemporary cinema but the last few decades have also really witnessed the ability and desire of popular singers to use their music and lyrics to deal with some of life’s hard questions.

And why is all this important? Well at the most basic level we all need to get better about talking about death and dying, about managing grief and doing the work of mourning, and we are enormously helped in doing that if that which entertains and inspires us, be it cinema or music, is being used as the vehicle for that communication.

In the previous few decades in my life no-one encapsulated the ability to tell a story, and to make me think about the realities of life, love, death and dying better than Bruce Springsteen. Taylor Swift is tackling the same issues, opening the same door to honest reflection and critical thinking, for a new generation – and for that I much admire her.

Springsteen and Swift deal with the themes of loss and grief in different ways, ways that reflect their own personalities and experience, but also the era and unique time they both live in. That is what makes their contributions important.

Taylor Swift speaks to and for her generation, in a unique and accessible way. Increasingly her lyrics particularly in albums like Folklore and Evermore, and especially in tracks like “My Tears Ricochet” and “Marjorie,” try to translate the universal experiences of sorrow into relatable experiences. She describes her own finding of solace amongst heartache and her melodies underpin the truth that grief is not just a moment but a journey that goes on.

‘The autumn chill that wakes me up
You loved the amber skies so much
Long limbs and frozen swims
You’d always go past where our feet could touch
And I complained the whole way there
The car ride back and up the stairs
I should’ve asked you questions
I should’ve asked you how to be
Asked you to write it down for me
Should’ve kept every grocery store receipt
‘Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me
Watched as you signed your name Marjorie
All your closets of backlogged dreams
And how you left them all to me.’

(from Marjorie, Taylor Swift)

Bruce Springsteen has long spoken to me and many with death and grief a companion within his songs, whether in the iconic “The River” or the reflective “Terry’s Song,” Springsteen confronts mortality with a hard, unflinching gaze. His music and its raw description of the nature of loss, loss of youth, decaying towns, and passing friends, shows the nature of community supporting sadness, of grief held up by collective strength and solidarity.

‘They say you can’t take it with you, but I think that they’re wrong
‘Cause all I know is I woke up this morning, and something big was gone
Gone into that dark ether where you’re still young and hard and cold
Just like when they built you, brother, they broke the mold

Now your death is upon us and we’ll return your ashes to the earth
And I know you’ll take comfort in knowing you’ve been roundly blessed and cursed
But love is a power greater than death, just like the songs and stories told
And when she built you, brother, she broke the mold’

(From Terry’s Song, Springsteen)

Whether it is Swift’s or Springsteen’s music, grief and death are not merely subjects but are portrayed as integral parts of the human experience. They invite us to sit with our sadness, to reflect on the impermanence of life, and to find beauty and meaning in the midst of loss. While Swift’s approach is deeply personal and introspective, often channelling the inner turmoil of grief, Springsteen’s work often looks outward, exploring how communities and individuals grapple with death and its aftermath.

Ultimately, these artists and the many, many creatives, who use their art to speak of deeper truth, remind us that grief is a universal experience, yet deeply personal in its expression. Whether through Swift’s intimate, lyrical narratives or Springsteen’s expansive, anthemic storytelling, the themes of death and grief resonate across their music, offering solace and understanding to those navigating their own losses.

For those of us who work in places and spaces where we are invited to bring solace and comfort, to enable and encourage others to ask life’s questions, I think we would all do well to let the singers sing, the story tellers talk, the television play and the silver screen entertain with the truth of loving.

Donald Macaskill