I have always been fascinated and intrigued by photography, One of the first ‘big’ presents I got as a child was a simple camera. It was an Olympus Trip 35. This was in the days of using real film on a roll, taking it to the chemist and waiting a few days for the photos to develop. The sense of disappointment that the landscape image or unique portrait I had spent time capturing had not quite worked but was instead a blurry mess was my more usual memory.

As I grew older, I moved into the world of SLRs with lenses and tripod and all the paraphernalia. Taking a photograph became an act of carrying the equivalent of the kitchen sink with me and to the annoyance of many it took so so very long to set up and capture that perfect image! And in all honesty, I’m not that sure it was often achieved! I still possess some of this equipment, but it sits in the bottom of a cupboard unused and gathering dust.

The main reason for such neglect is the rapid development and improvement of my iPhone which produces photos of amazing quality and provides options which are instant and accessible. Equally important is the ability to take so many and delete even more!

I am thinking a lot of photography at the moment because on Monday coming, (the 19^th August), we will be observing World Photography Day which is a globally recognised celebration of the photograph and its history.

Apart from taking countless pictures I have always been fascinated by the way in which photographs were and are able to bring me into another world. Photographs have an astonishing power and ability to root us in memory.

I have attended loads of photography exhibitions from the masters like Henri Cartier Bresson who brought 1930s Paris and the faces of its streets alive, or the Glasgow giants like Oscar Marzaroli whose images of Glasgow children in backcourts depicted the grim reality of poverty in the 1950s and 60s so sharply, or my favourite from last year the American Great Depression chronicler Dorothea Lange whose stark imagery painted the true picture of dustbowl poverty and racial discrimination in the pre-World War Two US. There is a lot to learn by looking through the lens of a great photographer.

Growing up I poured over the few family photographs we had and benefited as the year passed and as we inherited more family black and white snaps, from my mother putting names to faces, stories to images, and memory to the captured moment. Photographs were the door to the history of a time and people I belonged to but could not be present amongst.

When I have sat with those I have known who lived with dementia or have been in care homes I have witnessed just how valuable a tool photographs and photography are in supporting people who live with dementia. Even when her dementia was really bad my mother seemed to come alive when she took off her glasses, looked at a photograph, and the sparkle of a happy moment or even a sad reflection brought her to the point of telling the story it held.

Photographs can help in so many ways. They can trigger memory, giving a feel and recall of the moment and help someone preserve that critical sense of identity which dementia often strips away. They can help someone find the words and language which allows them to say what they are feeling at that moment, and they can also act as a means to calm and soothe someone by rooting them into recollection. That is why I can attest to the powerful value of gathering photographs into a memory book for someone who might frequently forget things. As they look through the book memory is stirred, calmness soothes, and reflection is the quieter of hurt.

A picture does indeed tell a thousand stories. It can give us the words we have lost to speak of the moment which is ours. It can help us to spark a conversation and to express what might be too hurtful or hard to say directly.

I used to use photographs in supporting those who found words challenging and difficult because of age or disability, and to do so often around hard and emotional issues such as death, dying, grief and bereavement. A shared photograph, especially one with association and personal memory, allowed us to get alongside one another, to tell our tale of hurt or healing, by looking at and through the image in our hands rather than having to hold the gaze of the memory through direct eye contact. The photo became our distracted focus for feelings.

There are lots of families who come together very often at points of loss and grief and who in looking though albums and photographs heal one another’s hurt in that mixture of tears of happiness and emptiness.

I do sometimes wonder if in this instant photographic digital age that we are in danger of losing the tactile and tangible giftedness of the physical photograph; of losing the sharing of the image and the conjuring of delight, shock and admiration.

In an age where we have more cameras than we have ever had. In an era where there are more photographs taken than there ever have been, is there a danger that we have lost the art of using photographs as a solace and sharing of memory?

I read recently that 99% of photographs we take are never shared and never printed out. Now I am all for sustainability, but I fear we are losing something about the sustainability of tangible memory, the touch of recollection, the real power of the photograph to connect us to ourselves and to others.

Maybe that is why there has been such a growth recently in scrap-booking, and in apps which make it easier for us to print out and hold onto our photographs. Indeed, almost as a reaction to the digitisation of memory it is estimated by one commentator that the photo printing market is going to grow by over 10% in the next 5 years.

This World Photography Day I’ll take my phone and take a few pictures, but I will also go and print some, so that I and others can sit and share, reflect and remember, the moment which was captured and which tells a thousand words worth.

But of course everything including our photographs are in the eye of the beholder as the poet Drora Matlofsky reminds us:

My Father’s Father

Mum gave me a picture
of my father’s father.
(Her Alzheimer-clouded mind
doesn’t like photos,
because she seldom recognises
the faces looking up at her.)

‘I don’t know what to do with it,’
she says.

A forty-year old man
dressed as in the thirties
sitting on a low wall
looks far away
at something I cannot see
and smiles.

He died before I was born.
I know little of him.

I put the picture away
with other family photos.

Papa’s French father now sits alone
among Mum’s English relatives
he never met
and whose language he didn’t speak.
How ironic they should end up
in the same box.

My Father’s Father poem – Drora Matlofsky (best-poems.net)

Donald Macaskill.

Photo by Alexander Wang on Unsplash

The week just passed has been a bizarre and indeed sad one.

At the start of the week, I was expecting to speak at an event yesterday which was a celebration and recognition of work which had been carried out to address issues of racial discrimination in the delivery of care at home services. The project had involved members of staff from the Black and Minority Ethnic and Asian community, indeed mainly international colleagues, and had focused on addressing some of the discriminatory behaviour which unfortunately they had been experiencing in the local community.

The project was a wonderful example and evidence of what can happen when anxiety is addressed, when myths are dismissed and when collaboration and communication happen.

I should have been at the launch and celebration event for this work yesterday and at the start of the week I was preparing a brief address on why addressing race and ethnic discrimination was and is a part of compassionate care and support. The event was cancelled because some of those frontline BAME staff were anxious about coming to a venue where because of rumours of a potential demonstration nearby they were worried about their personal safety.

The past week has witnessed some appalling disturbing and distressing scenes in England and Northern Ireland. At a distance we have watched our television screens as right-wing activists and others have sought to destroy communities and have burnt down libraries, looted shops and businesses, and engaged in vandalism and hooliganism against people and property. It has been evidence of the worst of our humanity.

In Scotland we have seen some local incidents but have not thankfully witnessed any such scenes but what we have experienced is a growing level of fear and anxiety amongst our colleagues from the BAME communities who deliver care at home and social care and those who live in our communities. So instead of preparing a talk to celebrate the ability of people to come together and to address discrimination head on, what I was doing this week was writing support material for those who are delivering care support and trying to support staff who are anxious and fearful for their own safety.

I was brought up in Glasgow at a time in the late 60s in the 1970s during which the presence and prevalence of open racial discrimination was all too evident. I went to a school which had a huge diversity and knew at second hand the experience of abuse and violence which my fellow classmates of colour had to endure. I thought those days had left us. I had hoped that alongside many others that the malign mistreatment of an individual because of their skin colour, their culture or their religion was something we had largely dismissed into the pages of history. However, I have known also of the sad reality that racism is only slightly under the skin within our Scottish communities. I have written in the past about my own experience as someone working in equality and diversity over two decades of how over the years I was being met with increasing hostility and rejection rather than increased acceptance and inclusion.

It would appear that every generation has to learn the lessons of tolerance, compassion and kindness to neighbour. It is clear that every generation regardless of location has to learn the insights of what living and being in community is all about.

Addressing the racist undertones of Scottish society requires robust moral, ethical and political leadership at all levels, whether in a social care organisation where the issues are not dismissed but taken seriously, or political leadership where tone and language is sensitive to the way in which those with ill-intent will use fear and anxiety to stoke hatred and suspicion.

I have commented a lot about the way in which the amazing women and men who have come to Scotland to work in social care from all parts of the world have contributed to enabling us to become the communities, society and the nation we are and would want to be. They have enriched our humanity by the giftedness of their compassionate care and expertise.

I have commented on so many occasions how the toxic hostile culture created by the previous UK Government has fed into a negative narrative around immigration, not least their decision to refuse to grant visas to the dependents of those who are coming to Scotland under a social care visa. My fears about the impact of such a toxic negative and hostile response to immigration were affirmed in the last few days.

The Home Office published data this past week to show that there had been a sharp reduction in UK visa applications from care workers. There was a year-on-year drop of 82% with 2,900 people applying for a health and social care visa in July. Whilst some have suggested this is because recruitment has reached its peak, the experience of many Scottish providers is that we are still in very real need of the pipeline of international recruitment because of the particular demographics of Scotland with our ageing population and ageing workforce.

Those of us working in social care are very concerned that the toxic and hostile experience created by the previous UK Government around immigration, and the fear created by the events of the last week, will both serve to reduce the number who might want to come to Scotland to join us in caring and give those already here cause for reflection.

Creating inclusive communities where all are welcomed, affirmed and given a place; where people are allowed indeed encouraged to celebrate their unique cultural and ethnic diversity does not just happen by accident. It has to be worked at, resourced and encouraged. Community is created it doesn’t fall from the sky.

In the weeks and months ahead, I hope we will all of us endeavour to work hard to reduce the fear and anxiety and increase the sense of affirmation and welcome to all across Scotland. I hope our new UK Government will walk the talk and dial down the negativity around immigration, and one way of showing that is to remove the obscenity of the dependents of social care staff not being granted a visa to join their partners and be family.

As regular readers to this blog know I often read poetry as a means of escape, and for illumination and insight and before this week had begun, I had decided to buy the latest book of poems ‘May Day’ by Jackie Kay who was made Scotland’s Makar or National Poet of Scotland in 2016.

She’s written an amazingly insightful new book of poems dealing in no small measure with the issue of bereavement and grief but over the years she’s also written about what it was like to be brought up in Scotland as a biracial child and one of mixed heritage; she’s reflected on the perversity of discrimination, the name calling, the bullying, the stone throwing, the denigration and dismissal which is the fruit of racism. So, as well as reading her beautiful new work I picked up some of her other older poems because I think they express the experience of so many today.

Scotland is not immune to hatred. We have our own shadows which lurk in the corners of our civic existence. Our communities have been riven and split apart by divides, both artificial and real. To suggest that we are somehow immune from the hate of the other is to deny that reality. But we are also a nation which can mirror the truthfulness of our connection one to the other, people whose humanity can become the vehicle of our togetherness.

I hope we are as a social care sector a community where the essence of compassion is lived out in inclusion, where the difference of another is the source of celebration, where the contribution of someone from a different culture and background is recognised as the enrichment of our whole experience and that together we are stronger.

I end this week with the beautiful affirming yet challenging work of Jackie Kay and her poem

My Grandmother

My grandmother is like a Scottish pine,
tall, straight-backed, proud and plentiful,
a fine head of hair, greying now
tied up in a loose bun.
Her face is ploughed land.
Her eyes shine rough as amethysts.
She wears a plaid shawl
of our clan with the zeal of an Amazon.
She is one of those women
burnt in her croft rather than moved off the land.
She comes from them, her snake’s skin.
She speaks Gaelic mostly, English only
when she has to, then it’s blasphemy.
My grandmother sits by the fire and swears
There’ll be no darkie baby in this house

My grandmother is a Scottish pine,
tall, straight-backed proud and plentiful,
her hair tied with pins in a ball of steel wool.
Her face is tight as ice
and her eyes are amethysts.

Copyright © Jackie Kay,
Bloodaxe Books, www.bloodaxebooks.com

Poem: My Grandmother by Jackie Kay – English 1 – NDLA

Photo by DJ Paine on Unsplash

Donald Macaskill

I travelled to and from Manchester at the end of this past week. As usual I went by train and to say the least the stations in Glasgow and Manchester were busy – if not mobbed. I wasn’t surprised because it is of course holiday season and whether it’s English schools now being closed meaning visitors coming to Scotland or Scottish families getting away in the last few weeks before the schools re-open, as is always the case the period of late July and early August is very busy.

As I was travelling I couldn’t but recall a passing conversation I had with a care worker last weekend on the very topic of holidays. She had spoken to me of the fact that in her own words she ‘hated’ the holidays because as the sole parent of a couple of children it meant that an already challenged situation was made a lot worse because of trying to organise and pay for care and support for her young family given that she had no relatives living close by and that she, whilst she said she was paid more than some in the care sector, she was still not able to pay for the support her kids would like. Worst of all she said she hated not being able to give her children the holiday experiences that their friends had. It was for her a stressful and depressing times.

The reality of what has come to be termed ‘holiday poverty’ is nothing new. This past week a new study has shown that 39.7 million workers, 14% of the EU’s population, couldn’t afford to go on holiday for a week in 2022.

Importantly this research underlines that holidays are not or should not be something which only those who can afford them should have the right to take – holidays are fundamental for our emotional, psychological and physical health and wellbeing, not least for children. As the European Trade Union Confederation General Secretary, Esther Lynch stated a few days ago:

“It’s also unsafe for workers, they need to have time to recuperate… it is important for addressing burnout and making sure that you come back to work restored and refreshed… a holiday is not a luxury, having time away with family is key for protecting the physical and mental health of workers along with providing valuable experiences for children.”

As the report highlights one of the very real social developments which has benefited millions in the last century has been the recognition that vacations and holidays were a fundamental importance for the whole of society and not just for those who can afford them. We need the benefits of switching off, of de-escalation and relaxing, to re-charge our batteries and help us live and work better. In some sense we seem to be going backwards rather than moving forwards in regard to the health and wellbeing of our workers and society as a whole.

Sadly, there is nothing new in such reports – as long ago as 2017 in a significant report called ‘Hungry Holidays’ a Westminster Cross Party groups of peers and MPs warned that the life chances of up to three million children in the UK were under threat due to their risk of going hungry during school holidays. The children’s charity, Children in Scotland stated at the time that this reality was influenced by high childcare costs, and that:

“Going to school hungry and struggling through the long school holidays not only impacts children’s happiness and wellbeing, it severely limits their mental and physical development with long-lasting and wide-ranging consequences. They are most likely to suffer from type 2 diabetes, obesity and to have a healthy life expectancy of 23 years less than their most affluent counterparts.”

Data from various surveys and research indicate that the prevalence of food insecurity among families with children rises notably during school holidays. For example, a survey conducted by the Food Standards Agency highlights that food insecurity affects various demographics and has led to increased reliance on food banks and other emergency food provisions especially during the holiday period.

Whilst the care worker I spoke to last weekend was focussed on the summer holidays, holiday poverty is not just something which happens during the summer because school holidays make up around a quarter of the year – that is a significant amount of time for someone to be stressing about how her children are cared for and supported.

As well as the impact on individual workers and employing organisations who try to be as flexible as possible in re-organising shifts and patterns of work, there is a wider impact of holiday hunger upon the social care sector which often goes unrecognised, namely an increased demand for care and support. And all this is happening at a time when local support initiatives and projects are being bled of funding because of austerity and cost-of-living pressures.

Overall, the lack of systematic, widespread support during school holidays exacerbates existing inequalities and places a significant burden on Scotland’s social care sector, highlighting the need for comprehensive policy interventions to ensure all children have access to adequate nutrition year-round.

A society that allows children to go hungry in front of our eyes, a society which makes a mother feel useless because she cannot provide what she wants to for her children, despite working and giving of herself in a social care role, has a lot to ask of itself. And yes, at the risk of constantly repeating myself it is a society that needs to recognise the fundamental value of care and support through proper pay, terms and conditions for those who care and that such recognition has to be the foundation of any action.

As I watched the crowds at the train stations queue and jostle to ‘escape’ on their holidays I could not but think of those left behind, with too many adults and children hungry and stressed in a time of ‘holiday.’ Holiday poverty is a reality that seems not to have departed.

The poet Edwin Morgan as I have mentioned before in this blog used to come to my school in Glasgow and read some of his poetry to the classes. All his poems were direct and spoke to many in the room about the realities they knew only too well. As the city of Glasgow struggled to re-design and re-build itself the realities of those left behind were never lost to Morgan, and sadly today whilst the scenes may be different, I think there remains a sad resonance to today’s poverty in his poem Glasgow Sonnet i

A mean wind wanders through the backcourt trash.
Hackles on puddles rise, old mattresses
puff briefly and subside. Play-fortresses
of brick and bric-a-brac spill out some ash.
Four storeys have no windows left to smash,
but in the fifth a chipped sill buttresses
mother and daughter the last mistresses
of that black block condemned to stand, not crash.
Around them the cracks deepen, the rats crawl.
The kettle whimpers on a crazy hob.
Roses of mould grow from ceiling to wall.
The man lies late since he has lost his job,
smokes on one elbow, letting his coughs fall
thinly into an air too poor to rob.

From Collected Poems (Manchester: Carcanet Press, 1990). Taken from Glasgow Sonnet i by Edwin Morgan – Scottish Poetry Library

Photo by Niklas Ohlrogge on Unsplash

Donald Macaskill

This was my first full week back at work since I took annual leave this summer and as is often the case I have been catching up on meetings and reading reports. With your indulgence I want to reflect on some of the event(s) and meetings of the week because they each had a common theme, namely what is real partnership like.

I got around to reading the first report from the UK Covid Inquiry which was published last Friday 19^th July. Baroness Hallett and her team did not miss their targets. The first Module was an examination of the extent to which as a country we were or were not prepared for a pandemic. The resounding answer was that we singularly were not but more than that that there was a complacency that we were better prepared than most. As the public health specialist Prof Devi Sridhar from Edinburgh University opined last weekend:

“the UK government failed in its basic responsibility to its citizens of keeping them safe. The UK had too many preventable deaths, not only from Covid, but also from the shutdown of health services and a long lockdown that would have been unnecessary had public health systems been in place.”

We prepared for the wrong pandemic and the Inquiry has called for ‘fundamental reform of the UK government and devolved nations’ preparedness for civil emergencies.’

Anyone involved in the world of social care before and during the pandemic cannot but agree with Lady Hallet and her findings. We saw the consequences first hand. Her recommendations make it clear that co-ordination, communication and critical whole system planning, and engagement are necessary to avoid any future disaster from happening.

Since her report there have been a number of articles considering the extent to which we are better or worse prepared for another pandemic and the likelihood of which we may need to face that reality. If some, like Sridhar are right, not least around avian flu (H5N1) and its growing threat to human health, then preparing for the future is critical. And that’s what worries me.

Hallett makes 10 clear recommendations and at their heart is a call for the simplification of pandemic planning and response. Planning exercises should be held every three years, and their results reported to the public, as well as the criticality of identifying at risk groups and to avoid a sense of ‘group think.’ All absolutely spot on, in my opinion.

The extent to which frontline social care providers and organisations from the independent and third sector were kept away from the planning table was appalling before and in many instances during the pandemic. I have said as much during evidence I have already given to the UK and Scottish Covid Inquiries. But far from learning those lessons I fear we continued and are continuing to embed poor practice which is at risk of repeating the errors and tragedies of the recent past.

The Scottish Government set up a body called the ‘Standing Committee on Pandemic Preparedness’ in the spring of 2022 to learn the lessons and to better prepare and plan for any future pandemic.

Its terms of reference stated that its membership would:

‘include scientific and technical experts from fields including public health, epidemiology, virology, behavioural sciences, global health, medicine, veterinary medicine, zoonoses and statistical modelling. In addition to independent experts, members may be clinicians and officials from the Scottish Government and associated agencies, selected for their role in pandemic preparedness and response.’

This body has met on numerous occasions and published an interim report late in 2022.

At the time of its establishment, I bemoaned the fact that yet again who was missing from the table? – the social care delivery sector. How can we possibly identify risk and embed lessons unless those most impacted are present? With due respect to the distinguished scientists, clinicians, medics and academics – they are the same groups of individuals (in some cases literally so) who were engaged in the planning processes which Hallett has highlighted as inadequate.

Sadly, I am convinced that we are less prepared in Scotland to deal with a pandemic in the future than we even were in 2020 – and I know I am not alone in that analysis. I say so because amongst other reasons if frontline social care delivery voices are not present at the table, the voices of those who support and care for our older citizens and people who require care and support, and indeed informal carers and those supported individuals themselves, then we are only ever going to get part of the picture and at a distance. We are walking blindly but even more shamefully deliberately into a new chaos.

Hallett’s insights must be fully heard and at their core is the critical engagement and involvement of all not least the social care sector and avoidance of the dominance of the usual suspects and exclusionary governmental practice in planning and resilience – a theme which I have no doubt will become repetitive in all her future reports. Partnership does not happen by proxy it requires presence.

The second area I want to reflect on was my attendance at two meetings to contribute to the surge and winter planning process in Scotland.

Last October in a blog I bemoaned the fact that the third and independent sector had not been included in the planning for the Scottish Government Winter Plan. Positively at least someone has heard and in the week that has passed I have attended a deep dive with colleagues and also a fuller meeting which Scottish Government hosted with a range of providers and stakeholders from the care home and homecare sector. Listening and a desire to include was certainly present albeit that we still have concerns that the planning is premised on a myopic concentration on issues relating to the acute NHS sector such as delayed discharge and avoidable admissions, rather than the critical issues facing the social care sector. But credit where it is due, and I hope Scottish Government and most importantly Ministers will listen to the constructive contributions from the third and independent sector as we approach winter and periods of ‘surge’. Real partnership certainly involves listening but it requires hearing resulting in action rather than avoidance.

The reason why such listening and partnership working is all the more urgent as we prepare for winter was laid bare on Thursday.

On that day a report from the Audit Commission was published. I have read many a report from the Commission and its sister body Audit Scotland over the years, but few have been as direct and damning as this one. It is an exploration of the financial robustness of Scotland’s Integration Joint Boards and the fiscal working behind our integrated health and social care partnerships. Its sections review the workforce, commissioning and performance. It makes it clear that community health and social care face rising unmet need and that ‘managing the crisis is taking priority over prevention due to the multiple pressures facing the bodies providing these services.’

Its findings resonant strongly with the experience of social care providers in care home and homecare services across Scotland around which I have often commented in this blog.

We particularly recognise the analysis which highlights that the workforce is under immense pressure, and organisations are facing acute challenges of recruiting and retaining staff.

The experience of constricted budgets, the demand to make savings and the consequential impact this has had on the ability of citizens to access necessary care and support are all mirrored in the report’s findings.

The Report rightly illustrates the way in which private and third sector providers find that council commissioning rates are insufficient to deliver social care and support and residential, personal and nursing care, and pay expenses such as staff, training and overheads.

The social care sector in Scotland is in a deep and unsustainable crisis, and this Report highlights why that is the case.

More positively the Report contains some case studies which evidence innovative and more effective ways of commissioning and procuring services, even in straightened economic circumstances. To name but two the Granite Care Consortium and the Fife Care Collaborative show how we can do things better.  What these new ways of working have in common is an emphasis on trust-built relationships, all professionals listening to one another, and all stakeholders actively involved in sharing mutual priorities.

The time ahs long passed whether in pandemic planning, winter preparation or the actual day to day delivery of social care in an integrated system for us to play at partnership and conjure up the illusion of collaboration. We urgently need to remove the shackles of self-interest and defensiveness, move away from the ‘it’s aye been done like this’ mantras and to seriously roll up our sleeves and work together for all the citizens of Scotland.

That only happens when the third and independent sectors and their representatives are in the room, at the table and empowered to contribute, rather than being kept outside.

Unless we all get around the table and spend as much time working together rather than seeking to cut an already vulnerable social care sector and its services to the bone, we will continue collectively to fail our citizens.

As the advocate and author Helen Keller once wrote: : “Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much.”

Donald Macaskill

Samaritans Awareness Day is on 24 July and the following day sees National Schizophrenia Awareness Day. These are two important days in the mental health and awareness calendar and come at a time when the issues of mental health and wellbeing are more prominent than ever.

Samaritans Awareness Day continues their focus on a campaign which has been running for 8 years. The ‘Talk To Us’ campaign aims to highlight the charity’s work and the help it can offer. With events being held throughout July by the Samaritans the aim is to highlight the organisation’s availability at any time of day or night to listen to anyone who is struggling to cope. According to Mind, one in every four people in the UK suffers from a mental health condition each year. Those who are experiencing challenges or discomfort have somewhere to turn in the Samaritans.

National Schizophrenia Awareness Day aims to shine a light on the everyday challenges the millions of people living with a diagnosis of schizophrenia face and how we can tackle the stigma and discrimination around it. It is estimated that one in 100 people will experience schizophrenia. Despite being so common, the stigma surrounding schizophrenia remains stubbornly high due to a lack of understanding.

‘Schizophrenia is a very complex condition that can affect how a person thinks, feels, and experiences the world around them. While the word is made up of schizo (to split) and phrene (the mind), schizophrenia does not mean split personality.

People with a diagnosis of schizophrenia can often experience very different symptoms, including audio hallucinations (hearing voices), delusions, disorganised thinking and changes in body language or emotions.’

I have written on a number of occasions about the challenges faced by individuals as they age with life enduring mental health conditions and the lack of support which is targeted at their particular needs. Far from the situation improving over the years I am afraid that the context today as we recognise these two significant mental health days is getting worse not better.

We are faced with some particular and escalating challenges, including increasing demand and resource constraints. It is a given though frequently comes as a shock to some that the population of Scotland is ageing. This means on a demographic level alone that this has led to a higher prevalence of mental health issues such as depression, anxiety, and dementia among older adults. Indeed, studies indicate that around 10-15% of older adults in Scotland experience depression, and a similar percentage suffer from anxiety. These conditions often go undiagnosed and untreated, as symptoms may be mistakenly attributed to aging or physical health problems. For regular readers you will see a resonance here with my last blog highlighting the rise of alcohol misuse amongst older Scots. Sadly we have also witnessed a concerning increase in the number of suicides among older men in particular. Although suicide rates are generally lower among older adults compared to younger age groups factors such as social isolation, chronic illness, and lack of support can contribute to this increased risk.

In addition, at the present time we are faced with not insignificant staffing shortages in mental health support organisations and amongst providers of social care and mental health support. This is all accentuated by the increasingly restricted resource many support services are working with because of underfunding or indeed because they have lost their funding.

And as if the demographic and practical support challenges were not hard enough, we still witness and have to live with enduring stigma. Regrettably mental health issues in older adults are frequently stigmatised, both within the community and among some healthcare providers. Older adults may feel ashamed or reluctant to seek help due to societal attitudes toward mental illness, particularly in older age groups.

As a result of the lack of specialist focus, lack of investment and stigma many of those working in the field who I speak to will argue that there is significant underdiagnosis. Symptoms of mental illness are still being mistaken for normal aging processes.

The mental health of older adults in Scotland is a complex and multifaceted issue that requires a coordinated and comprehensive holistic response involving all stakeholders including social care providers and families and those most impacted. These have to be approaches of care and support which meet the social, economic, housing and healthcare needs of older Scots.

Sadly, at the moment growing older with mental ill health in Scotland is an experience of isolation, despair and one where you feel you are simply not noticed, that your life does not matter. Just as I stated last week when I speak about alcohol harm, we urgently need all stakeholders to prioritise this harm and to do so in an inclusive prioritised manner.

There are many poets who have spoken about mental health struggles, but few have reflected on them as a lifelong experience into older and what ageing means for mental health. One who has is the late American poet Anne Sexton who wrote The Room of My Life:

Here,
in the room of my life
the objects keep changing.
Ashtrays to cry into,
the suffering brother of the wood walls,
the forty-eight keys of the typewriter
each an eyeball that is never shut,
the books, each a contestant in a beauty contest,
the black chair, a dog coffin made of Naugahyde,
the sockets on the wall
waiting like a cave of bees,
the gold rug
a conversation of heels and toes,
the fireplace
a knife waiting for someone to pick it up,
the sofa, exhausted with the exertion of a whore,
the phone
two flowers taking root in its crotch,
the doors
opening and closing like sea clams,
the lights
poking at me,
lighting up both the soil and the laugh.
The windows,
the starving windows
that drive the trees like nails into my heart.
Each day I feed the world out there
although birds explode
right and left.
I feed the world in here too,
offering the desk puppy biscuits.
However, nothing is just what it seems to be.
My objects dream and wear new costumes,
compelled to, it seems, by all the words in my hands
and the sea that bangs in my throat.

Anne Sexton. “The Room Of My Life.” Family Friend Poems, https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-room-of-my-life-by-anne-sexton

Photo by Kristina Tripkovic on Unsplash

Donald Macaskill

It was Alcohol Awareness Week at the start of the month and during it I was reading some of the latest research and data on alcohol and older age in Scotland. It was both disturbing and yet sadly predictable.

Across Scotland today one of the hidden harms of alcohol is its impact on the lives of older Scots and their families and the relative lack of specialist social care provision to address that crisis. This growing issue is not only a personal tragedy for those affected but fractures too many families and communities. It is also a harm which as I’ve reflected upon last year in this blog space we still remain poor at calling it out and resourcing the change that’s needed.

Alcoholism among older adults is often overshadowed by other public health concerns. However, the statistics tell a worrying story.

Research indicates that alcohol misuse among those over 65 in Scotland is on the rise, exacerbated by factors such as loneliness, bereavement, and physical health problems. Unlike younger drinkers, older adults often face more severe health consequences from alcohol misuse, making early intervention and support crucial.

Health data indicates that a significant proportion of older adults consume alcohol regularly, with a notable segment drinking more than the recommended guidelines.

The 2022 Scottish Health Survey indicated that 24% of men and 13% of women aged 65-74 drink more than the recommended weekly alcohol limit (14 units per week). For those aged 75 and over, these figures are 16% for men and 8% for women.

In addition, data from the Information Services Division (ISD) Scotland reveals an increasing trend in alcohol-related hospital admissions among older adults. In the past decade, there has been a marked rise in admissions for alcohol-related conditions such as liver disease, falls, and cognitive impairment. ISD Scotland reported that in 2021, there were approximately 2,300 alcohol-related hospital admissions per 100,000 population for those aged 65 and over, a significant increase from previous years.

And further National Records of Scotland recorded 467 alcohol-specific deaths in 2022 among individuals aged 65 and over, an increase of 15% compared to 2021. Statistics show that individuals over 65 have higher alcohol-specific mortality rates compared to younger age groups, reflecting the severe health impacts of prolonged alcohol misuse.

Older adults struggling with alcoholism face a unique set of challenges. Physiologically, the aging body is less capable of metabolising alcohol, increasing vulnerability to its effects. This can lead to a range of health issues, including liver disease, cardiovascular problems, and cognitive decline. Moreover, alcohol can interact dangerously with medications commonly prescribed to older adults, compounding health risks.

Socially, older adults may experience isolation and loneliness, which can drive them to use alcohol as a coping mechanism. I’ve known too many times where the loss of a spouse, or retirement, or relocation has led to folks turning to the drink in older age. All this can sever social ties, leaving individuals even more vulnerable and the stigma associated with alcoholism can further isolate them, making it difficult to seek help.

The rise of alcoholism among older adults has profound implications for social care in Scotland. More and more frontline workers especially in homecare are telling of noticing an increase in alcohol addiction. They are often the first to notice the signs of alcohol misuse, such as frequent falls, memory lapses, or neglect of personal hygiene. However, recognising these signs can be challenging, as they are often attributed to aging itself rather than alcohol use.

Care providers face the complex task of managing the immediate health needs of these individuals while also addressing the underlying issue of alcoholism. This dual challenge requires a nuanced approach that combines clinical care with psychological and social support. In other words, the response has to have social care at its heart.

The data underscores the growing need for targeted interventions to address alcohol misuse among older adults. The current system is stretched to a point that it struggles with the majority and is failing to pick up this growing demographic and their acute needs.

Social care providers must be equipped with the knowledge and resources to identify and manage alcohol-related issues effectively. Investment at this level will support preventative work and will thus reduce the growing pressures on hospitals and residential care settings.

However, social care workers require specialised training to effectively support older adults with alcoholism. This includes understanding the signs of alcohol misuse, managing withdrawal symptoms, and providing compassionate, non-judgmental care. Without adequate training and resources, care providers will struggle to meet the complex needs of this population.

Addressing alcoholism among older adults in Scotland I believe requires a multifaceted approach, including:

Awareness and Education: raising awareness about the issue is the first step. This includes educating the public, care providers, and policymakers about the signs of alcohol misuse in older adults and the unique challenges they face.

 Integrated Care Models: developing integrated care models that combine medical, psychological, and social care support is essential. This holistic approach can ensure that older adults receive comprehensive care tailored to their specific needs.

Community Support: strengthening community support networks can help reduce isolation and provide older adults with the social connections they need to combat loneliness. Yet sadly we are cutting back and defunding these programmes at a time of real need and acuity. Community programmes that offer social activities, peer support, and outreach can play a crucial role in prevention and early intervention.

Policy and Funding: it’s perhaps stating the obvious but national and local government in Scotland must prioritise funding for programmes and models that address alcohol misuse among older adults. This includes investing in training for social care workers and expanding access to treatment and support services.

Alcoholism among older adults in Scotland is a pressing issue that demands our collective attention and action.

The data on alcohol misuse among those over 65 in Scotland paints a concerning picture of a hidden crisis that requires urgent attention. By acknowledging the prevalence and impact of this issue, we can better support our older population through targeted interventions, comprehensive care models, and robust community support. Addressing this challenge is not only a matter of health but also of dignity and quality of life for our older citizens.

It is a challenge that intersects with the very heart of social care, impacting both those who suffer from alcohol misuse and the professionals who support them.

Let us not turn a blind eye to this issue. Let us confront it with compassion, understanding, and a commitment to creating a social care system that supports every individual, at every stage of life.

Donald Macaskill

Photo by Thomas Picauly on Unsplash

Whether it’s Efcharisto, Danke, Gracias, Merci, Takk or simply thank you – wherever those who can and choose to travel or holiday this summer doubtless most of us will learn the basics of communication in the native language of the place we find ourselves in.

Saying thank you to show gratitude is an important part of etiquette in almost all cultures. Whilst manners might change and customs will divert there remains a truth that learning the vocabulary of gratitude is the first step to properly showing your appreciation in a new community.

I think the same can be said of the busy world of social care. Amidst the daily routines and pressing challenges, there lies a profound yet often overlooked practice: saying “thank you.” These two simple words carry immense weight, embodying gratitude and recognition, fostering a culture of appreciation that is vital for both care and support workers and those they support.

Saying thank you might sometimes feel like an afterthought, a perfunctory nod to social etiquette. Yet, these words carry an astonishing power. In my years of working in social care and beyond, I’ve seen firsthand the profound impact that genuine gratitude can have on individuals, relationships, and communities.

At its core, social care is about human connection. It’s about seeing the person behind the condition, label or stigma; it’s about understanding their stories, their struggles, and their triumphs. In such an environment, gratitude is more than just a courtesy; it is a cornerstone of human dignity and respect.

For social care workers, the role they play is both physically demanding and emotionally taxing. They provide support, comfort, and companionship to individuals who often face significant challenges.

This work can be deeply rewarding, yet it can also lead to burnout if not balanced with adequate support and recognition. The central focus of that recognition has to be the continued struggle to give people adequate terms and conditions – and I hope all governments and organisations will heed the criticality of improved pay for the social care workforce as the primary mark of saying thank you!

However wider acknowledgment of the work of a carer is crucial for individual mental health and job satisfaction.

The act of expressing thanks does not just benefit the recipient; it also positively affects the giver. Research shows that practicing gratitude can enhance well-being, reduce stress, and increase overall happiness. In a field as challenging as social care, where the emotional demands are high, cultivating gratitude can serve as a buffer against burnout and compassion fatigue. This is true at all levels of organisations and communities.

For gratitude is not just a social nicety; it is a fundamental human need. Philosophers, psychologists, and spiritual leaders have long extolled the virtues of gratitude, recognising it as a cornerstone of human well-being. Saying “thank you” acknowledges the efforts of others, affirming their value and fostering a sense of connection and mutual regard.

In social care, where the heart of the work lies in human connection, saying “thank you” is more than good manners—it’s a vital practice that sustains the spirit and dedication of caregivers. It strengthens relationships, builds trust, and fosters a culture of mutual respect and appreciation.

In our increasingly disconnected society, where digital interactions often replace face-to-face encounters, expressing thanks has never been more crucial. It bridges the gap between us, reminding us of our shared humanity and interdependence.

So I’m pleased that Thank You Day is returning tomorrow.

Thank You Day began with a handful of organisations looking for a way to enable us all to say a huge ‘thank you’ to everyone and everything that helped us through the COVID-19 pandemic.

Since then the campaign has grown to include hundreds of partners and over 20 million people have taken part in Thank You Day celebrations. Last year 74% of those who took part in a Thank You Day event said they felt a stronger sense of belonging to their local community as a result.

The celebrations this year are focusing on giving thanks to our local communities.

At their heart is the act of gratitude which creates and nurtures the wellbeing both of individuals and communities and not least those who require care and support.

Two simple words – thank you – a powerful act that can transform our interactions and relationships. It is a small gesture with a huge impact, fostering a culture of appreciation and respect.

I hope you have a summer where you are able to both receive and give thanks.

Donald Macaskill

I first knew Jane when we were both in our early twenties. She and her husband had just suffered a bereavement. Their little girl had contracted meningitis and had died within hours of reaching hospital. They were both devastated, searching for sense through the darkness of their despair; looking for any answer to the thousands of questions they had, all of their conversation tumbling out from their tears and sobs. I was there to listen and be present and to help them as much as I could.

I remember so many of those conversations with folks who had suffered the death of a child or baby – even if I’ve forgotten the names involved – or in truth I remember the feelings I was left with rather than the words. Feelings of utter uselessness in the presence of another’s brokenness.

I met Jane again years later and maybe understandably I didn’t recognise her at first. We had both changed, and we were not the people we were once. One thing she said though has stayed with me ever since. We talked about that first time we had met and about her little girl. Jane said to me “I’ve held her inside every step of the way.”

She told me of how it was really hard to go back home, the emptiness she felt and her desperation not to let go of anything belonging to her daughter – almost she said as if throwing anything away would be an act of betrayal. She told me how she’d visited the grave every day – how she just wanted to continue being a mum; she shared very openly about her attempts to hurt and harm herself because she simply wanted to be with her daughter.

All of this led to the breakdown of her marriage as her partner in her own words gave her ultimatum upon ultimatum as he tried ‘to drag her back into living.’

Then over time she said things started to change. Slowly at first – small steps but important ones. She started working again after 3 years; she began to go out and reconnect with friends; she reduced the time she spent at the grave and on some days chose not to go. She then after a while started dating and met someone.

As she told me of her marriage, of the birth of a son, of his first day at school, of his growing into a man and his graduation, after every story of her growing family and ageing self she said that at every moment of memory that she had held her wee girl inside her every step of the way.

I thought of Jane and her life of unforgetting love when I discovered that next Wednesday 3rd July that it is to be National Bereaved Parents Day.

The day was set up four years ago by the charity A Child of Mine, after they realised that there wasn’t a specific day that honoured bereaved parents from all walks of life. In their words:

‘National Bereaved Parents Day brings together anyone affected by the death of a child to show bereaved parents that they are not alone. This year’s theme is “Love Lives On”.

And how true that statement was and is for Jane.

Over the years I have been privileged to have spent time with people who have been bereaved and each and every encounter has been special. But I have found that the impact of the death of a child on parents has been one of the hardest of all experiences. It is a loss that lives with the parents throughout their time. It doesn’t diminish it just changes.

But what especially saddens me are the countless folks I have talked to in late and older age who are still mourning for a lost child or baby. It saddens me not because they are mourning or grieving but because in years gone by their loss was never validated, often ignored and rarely understood. Thankfully things have improved but I’m not wholly convinced that society doesn’t still expect us to speedily ‘ get over it.’ I’m not convinced that we are not still in a situation where it’s assumed that in your eighties or nineties that the grief for a child dead for decades should now be passed and forgotten. I’ve met too many in care home and community who have never had the chance to grieve and mourn, who have never been enabled to say a proper goodbye.

The death of a child remains with parents for ever – the love does not diminish. We all of us need to be much more aware and sensitive to the particular impacts of such bereavement. In fact in older age, it is often the case that parents may experience a resurgence of grief, particularly during milestones such as anniversaries or what would have been significant birthdays. As others see their children grow into adulthood and milestones like marriage or grandchildren arrive the painful longevity of grief touches ever sharper.

Older adults have often talked to me not least of the child who has died was an only child of how alone they feel as they age. Many older people as they age often face a shrinking social circle due to the deaths of peers or reduced mobility. But the absence of their child can amplify feelings of loneliness and isolation. Without their child to share memories with or support them, parents may struggle with a profound sense of emptiness.

I’d also want to highlight that parents can lose their child at any age and all that I’ve said about grief is as valid for the loss of an adult child as much as for a younger child. But added to the grieving is the possibility that if the deceased child had their own children, grandparents may take on the dual role of supporting their grandchildren while navigating their own grief. This responsibility can be emotionally and physically taxing, especially as they age, impacting their ability to cope and their overall well-being.

Every step of the way, every moment we age, every occasion and memento moment Jane and others will carry their child deep inside their heart. They will never be forgotten; the fracture will never truly heal. Love lives on even if its rhythm alters.

As a society I think we must do more to understand and acknowledge the particular aspects of losing a child at any age both for the parents and for others. We too need to find ways in which collectively and as communities we learn to carry the memory of those who are departed as we age together.

I leave you with a beautiful poem for all ages by the American animator and songwriter Rebecca Sugar called Time Adventure.

‘Time is an illusion that helps things make sense

So we are always living in the present tense

It seems unforgiving when a good thing ends

But you and I will always be back then

You and I will always be back then

If there was some amazing force outside of time

To take us back to where we were

And hang each moment up like pictures on the wall

Inside a billion tiny frames so that we could see it all, all, all

It would look like: will happen, happening, happened

Will happen, happening, happened

And there we are again and again

Cause you and I will always be back then

You and I will always be back then’

Donald Macaskill

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

Yesterday I was pleased to take part in a Royal Society of Edinburgh session on the challenges facing those who live in rural and remote parts of Scotland as they relate to health and social care delivery. As part of the ‘Islands, past, present and future’ event series it was an attempt to spotlight the stories of Scotland’s Island communities, looking back, taking stock, and imagining the future.

The remote and rural parts of Scotland, not least our island communities, face many of the same challenges which social care provision is experiencing in other parts of Scotland but are doing so with an intensity and immediacy which may not be wholly evident elsewhere. But they also I believe have the capacity and ability to mirror and illustrate for the rest of us some of the pragmatic solutions and potentials for change which we all need to reflect upon and consider into our future.

So what are the challenges and issues?

Geography

Stating the obvious the first and foremost is geography. I am mindful that you define remoteness from where you are – and that it is a very subjective concept. This geographical remoteness impacts on the experience of people who might want to access services but also on organisations who might be willing to provide these. There are fewer services and supports available, reducing the importance of choice and personal control, and also making access to some services challenging because of the sheer distance. I think in particular of the huge number of care homes which have closed in my own island community of Skye where about 20 years ago there were well over a dozen and now only a handful.

A key additional factor both in terms of physically getting to care services and also as it impacts on the ability of staff is the issue of transport or perhaps more the lack of robust co-ordinated public transport together with the cost of self-transport in terms of fuel etc.

Workforce

A related major challenge facing providers is the availability of a skilled workforce. Even without mentioning the ‘B’ word and the hugely damaging impacts of Brexit on rural social care workforce recruitment, it was still immensely difficult for rural and remote provision to attract an available workforce. This is for a huge number of reasons, isolation, lack of support, availability of social housing, cost of living and so on. As hospitality and retail have become more attractive especially during what increasingly feels like a ‘whole year tourist season’ then it has become really hard to sustain workforce levels in social care. So what provdiers end up doing is using agency staff. The exorbitant cost of this emergency provision soon becomes unsustainable.

Since 2022 and the introduction of the Social Care Workers Visa there has been a not insignificant increase in inward attraction to both island and rural communities, but the death knell to such positivity has been sounded by the Tory Government’s restriction on dependents of workers here on a visa.

There are other factors which are evident in island and rural communities. One clearly is demographic – I am not the first nor will I be the last to fear what one newspaper called the new ‘Highland Clearances’ – with an increasing trend of younger people leaving island communities and more townships and communities losing the essentials of infrastructure and community. Added to that is the fact that proportionately the population is older and that this increases demand at a very time when that demand cannot, or it is very difficult to meet. Our islands attract many older individuals who choose the locations in which to retire, and this has and is putting tremendous strain on services when inevitably the ageing process leads to an increased demand.

Increasingly elsewhere when faced with increasing demand, workforce shortage and fiscal challenges both commissioners and providers of social care have turned to technological and digital interventions. Before going much further I would want to declare that I strongly believe such solutions have a place but only alongside humanistic presence and care delivery not as a replacement for and crudely as some sort of cost-saving strategy. But whether it is the increasing use of Ai, of in-house smart devices to monitor acuity and so much more, or simply data and record management, never mind the potential of robotics there are obvious challenges including digital connectivity, technological infrastructure robustness and access, digital poverty and so much more which are potentially faced by island and rural communities.

And of course, the elephant in this island room is economic limitation, lack of investment and the raw reality of rural and island poverty which affects everything not least the availability of social housing – though I was delighted to read this week that the island of Rassay off Skye has after over a decade finally got some more social houses!

Personally, I believe that if our island communities are not just going to maintain themselves in some sort of Celtic aspic then they need focussed and urgent national investment – an Islands Fund! We need social care providers for instance to have a fiscal weighting that enables them to be sustainable in the delivery of services given increased workforce, housing, infrastructure, commodity and related costs.

So the challenges are not insignificant but I also think the potential is equally capable of addressing and overcoming these. Addressing the challenge of social care in island communities requires a multifaceted approach, including improved funding, targeted recruitment and training initiatives, infrastructure development, and the integration of innovative care models. But it can be done and is being done.

Take workforce as an example. NHS Highland is currently funding my own organisation in appointing someone to a post as a Sector Career & Attraction Lead for Care Homes in North Highland. It is a new post yet the post holder Laura Dobinson who comes with a rare blend of sector knowledge but also recruitment and HR skills is working to develop new and innovative approaches to recruit working with local communities to achieve real people into real roles. This is the first post of its kind in Scotland and is already bearing fruit. I hope we will see more of focussed and targeted approaches like this one rather than relying on some of our more traditional methods.

Key to enhancing recruitment has to be a whole system approach – there is no point in having a work ready carer if she or he cannot find a house to come into the island and live in.

But as well as workforce we must look at innovative ways of working. At the heart of this is what already happens in our island communities and that is a degree of integrated and collaborative, whole system working that is the envy of others and is I think the only way forward. Islanders cannot afford the luxury and fantasy of silo working. People who require care and support don’t care a toss about the uniform you wear, the organisational badge you work under, what they want is immediate, professional care and support and a level of continuity, consistency and quality which is the heart of all person-led care and support.

But perhaps we also need to build on the communitarian and co-operative strengths of our island communities, not in a romantic sense but in practical realistic ways.

Communities whether rural, remote or urban, will increasingly have to look after one another more – and as a community is nothing more or less than a collection of individuals – that means we all have and increasingly will have an individual responsibility to ‘be our sister’s keeper’ and look out for one another, care and support one another. Put simply if we do not then no one else will not least given the global ageing, health and care dynamic we will increasingly face.

There are insights and lessons of how we can achieve this all over the world – and if nothing else at least in my experience of having seafarers in the family islanders are the best folks for having an openness to learning from others.

So whether it is the truly integrated and community based approach with care hubs bringing together healthcare, social services, and community support under one roof and so offering a holistic approach to care and improving coordination between services as has been successfully operated for some time in Tasmania, Australia, or the model in New Zealand where the government offers scholarships and incentives for healthcare and social care professionals to work in remote and island communities, and financially fosters a locally trained and dedicated workforce.

There are global insights to learn from. And one I have got to know is a new community-based approach to working developed by Dr Emi Kiyota who I have been privileged to know and work with.  Emi is an environmental gerontologist. She has taught and published across the world but most of her work is in East Asia, especially Singapore, Japan and the Philippines. She established an organisation called Ibasho and developed a model for delivering care and support led by older people themselves in rural and island communities.

‘Ibasho means “a place where you can feel like yourself” in Japanese.

As Emi says: ‘At Ibasho we believe this is what every person should have as they age – a place to live in safety, comfort and dignity, where he or she is valued as a person full of history and experience.’

‘Ibasho recognizes that people fear two things as we age — social isolation and losing respect from others in society. Our goal is to create a shared future in which aging is not something to fear, but to enjoy, as a respected and valued member of communities across the globe.’

She often uses a quote she found at an elementary school in Bhutan said:

“The time to be happy is now, the place to be happy is here, the way to be happy is to make other people happy.”

I believe a lot of what Dr Kiyoto is doing resonates with the Scottish Gaelic concept of dùthchas. It’s a complex phrase that is often used in many contexts but for me it’s one of the many words that suggest ‘belonging’ – that sense of being at one and at home amongst a community or in a particular location.

When my mother developed dementia the most important thing for her health and wellbeing was staying in place, amongst people and spaces she knew, and listening to the language and tongue of her youth.

We can and we must develop models of community-based support which nurture such belonging. It is less about resource than about aspiration. It needs to be less about systems and regulations, than relationships and priority.

As Emi said once:

“Elders living in grass huts in Africa with children at their feet are often happier than people in assisted living homes with a chandelier over their heads.”

Donald Macaskill

Photo by Asa Rodger on Unsplash

I have had some challenging and hard conversations and encounters in the last few days. Indeed, I would go so far as to say that they have been some of the most difficult conversations I have had in many a while. In reflecting at the end of the week on each of them I cannot but conclude that there was a common thread running through the experience of the folks who shared their stories and insights with me – and that was the fact that each of the people were experiencing trauma.

My first conversation was with the manager of a care at home service who informed me that officials at his local Health and Social Care Partnership had told him that they required to make substantial budget savings and because of that they would be reducing the number of packages of care at home which would be available for him to put his name forward for. He reflected that for the council contract staff that this was just about budgets, and finance and numbers but for him it was a change which put the sustainability of his very organisation into question. And that ‘turned his blood cold’ in his own words because he had been in business for nearly two decades, providing what was considered to be high quality care (according to the Inspectorate) and that he had employed a loyal, dedicated and professional staff. He was hyper-anxious when I spoke to him about the limited options he had available; he was desperate to keep things going not only because he was a key local employer in an area where there were few but critically because what broke his heart was the thought of telling customers and staff that things were going to have to change – dramatically. He was in every sense traumatised by what he saw as a short-sighted decision to make savage cuts to local social care and support. He wasn’t sleeping, felt manic, his blood-pressure was through the roof, and he had an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

My second conversation was with a frontline care worker whose homecare organisation had like so many in the last few weeks been told by their HSCP that cuts were having to be made. However, in this case the organisation would keep going because it was in an area where the folks were able to buy their care even when the local authority had withdrawn packages of care and support. But the reason the worker was in tears was that she had spent that morning on her round saying goodbye to people she had known for months and in some cases years. She recounted one instance where a lady in her eighties who had declining sight and was virtually housebound had up till then been receiving a daily care and support package but after a ‘review’ this had been cut back by a massive degree. The lost relationship, the friendship, the familiarity and knowledge built up between the pair counted for nothing as the HSCP and its ‘reviewers’ (who had not visited her to tell her of the change) cut her service. The carer was in tears as one by one relationships were fractured not because (in her estimation and professional opinion) the care was no longer needed but that someone, somewhere, had decided it was no longer affordable. She was so very upset… she told me she had been traumatised by her morning.

And in a week which has been the national annual Carers Week with lots of photo opportunities for our politicians, I spoke to the wife of a man who had received care and support for many years because of a degenerative neurological condition. Like hundreds across Scotland, she had been told that her husband’s package of care and support was being reduced ‘after re-assessment’. She was at her wits end as to how she could cope. She was getting frail and older herself and the thought of having to do more for her husband was draining her. She had no family nearby and all her neighbours were either older than her or had their own issues. She desperately needed the support to continue, to get time for herself, to have some respite from caring. Yes, she had an increased allowance, yes she had accessed all the financial support she could, but what she really needed was the daily relief of someone else who knew her husband being present, being there, being for her. Someone else to share her burden and questions and exhaustion. She feels utterly and completely abandoned.

Each of these conversations left a mark on me because it is clear to me in their own way that each person was traumatised and going through trauma because of what was happening in their lives.

I know the response to what I have written will be – especially during an election – to posit understanding and then to cast the blame and responsibility to another – the lack of UK Government funding; the lack of resource from Scottish Government given the level of increased need; the failure of the local decision makers and so on. But to be frank I am tired of the pass the buck mentality and lack of honesty, the failure to own up collectively as a nation, as political leaders, as social care and health leaders, that the system is well and truly broken. And more than that that the decisions to cut care packages, to review and stop, to reduce the number of care beds being occupied or the number of care packages being contracted – all of it has and is traumatising some of the most valuable and vulnerable people in our communities. It is not fair. It is not just. And it is not the Scotland I want to live in.

I am familiar with trauma both as a concept and as a lived reality. We hear a lot of talk in the world of social care about trauma and what has become known as trauma informed practice. Indeed, the latter is now a core element underpinning the latest professional standards from the regulator. More than that Scottish Government guidance states that all social care and related practice should be understood and responded to through a trauma lens.

Trauma can be variously described but a simple definition states that:

“Trauma results from an event, series of events, or set of circumstances that is experienced by an individual as harmful or life threatening. While unique to the individual, generally the experience of trauma can cause lasting adverse effects, limiting the ability to function and achieve mental, physical, social, emotional or spiritual well-being.”

And our trauma informed practice in social care and social work is that which:

“is an approach to health and care interventions which is grounded in the understanding that trauma exposure can impact an individual’s neurological, biological, psychological and social development.”

Social care practitioners and services know what is required to support those who have been traumatised. At the heart of such attention is their physical, psychological and emotional safety and attempting through all means to prevent re-traumatisation for the person being cared for and supported.

Now I recognise that the concept of trauma and trauma-informed practice is not universally accepted and there does indeed need to be safeguards as brilliantly delineated in the recent work of Mark Smith and Sebastian Monteux who have suggested caution in its application ‘lest a  predominant focus on trauma may construct the kind of psychological conditions it professes to respond to.’

But at a very human level what is happening in Scotland to our social care services and supports at this time is resulting in very real trauma, harm and suffering.  Perversely those charged with fostering the delivery of compassionate trauma informed practical care and support are now the agents of re-traumatising a damaged and vulnerable citizenhood.

For the staff and managers I have spoken to there is clear evidence of the trauma they are experiencing resulting in burnout, emotional and compassion fatigue; they are being overwhelmed by resource limitations which are resulting in very acute conflicted values. This level of chronic stress is leading to exhaustion, anxiety, depression and acute self-doubt. It is also for many resulting in what I can only describe as vicarious trauma where the trauma experiences of supported people and those being cared for create a sense of vulnerability and helplessness in the worker and manager.

We urgently need to address the reality which is a traumatised social care system, workforce and those who require social care supports. We cannot continue to do more harm in the name of fiscal and resource re-allocation and prioritisation. There has to be a more honest way of addressing the crisis of social care in Scotland than traumatising those who deliver, work in and use our services.

Donald Macaskill