Vets, you deserve my apologies
Iowe vets an apology. I wrote something about the commercialisation of veterinary care a couple of weeks ago which did the vast majority of them a great disservice. I would have apologised sooner, but I was away on holiday last week. If it’s any consolation to those furious with me, my break was marred by worries about how I’d find a vet to treat my dog if he got ill. I suppose I could have sent him in alone with a note and some cash tucked into his collar.
A number of clarifications are necessary. I should have made clear that almost every vet I have had the pleasure of meeting was exactly that – a pleasure to meet. Mostly not long out of veterinary school, they have been kind, patient, clever and plainly motivated by a love of, and desire to care for, animals. On reflection, this sheer fondness for their patients is what separates vets from doctors. But I’ve made enough enemies in the field of medicine lately, so best I don’t go there.
The cheapest shot I regret taking was the suggestion that vets are trained at college in upselling techniques. This was said in jest but was offensive. My bad. I know enough vets to be aware of the enormous academic and practical skills necessary to even get into veterinary school, let alone emerge fully qualified. God knows, they’re cleverer than me. I genuinely struggle to even spell veterinary properly. The only criticism I would make of veterinary students is that in my experience they’re pretty rubbish at football. They must be, because the Royal Veterinary College’s first XI was the only first XI my college team ever managed to beat. I assume football training had to take second place to all the many years of training that doubtless left them weighed down with more debt than most graduates. It is entirely appropriate that after all that work their expertise reaps them appropriate financial reward.
Anna Judson, president of the British Veterinary Association, wrote that my piece sought to “undermine the integrity of the veterinary profession, reducing hard-working, highly skilled people to profiteering ‘marketing zealots’ that put ‘upselling’ ahead of animal welfare”. That honestly wasn’t my intention, but I can see that’s how it came across – and I apologise for that. She goes on to say that “this characterisation of vets and their teams is deeply offensive, extremely damaging and could not be further from the truth”. Again, point taken, as far as individual vets are concerned – but what about some of the big corporations they work for? More than half of all UK practices are owned by substantial corporate entities.
I actually feel rather sorry for young vets. It must be demoralising to go through all that training only to find yourself working for a big company that is focused, as big companies tend to be, on the bottom line. Yes, the vets are in it for the love of animals but, honestly, can the same be said of the private equity operations behind many of the providers? Of course not. They’re in it for profits. While there’s nothing wrong with profits per se, the sector plainly needs robust regulation lest corporate excess comes to rear its ugly head.
Amid the torrent of tongue-lashing I got from vets, there was a not unsupportive email from an experienced specialist and professor of veterinary surgery, John Innes. Over several decades in specialist practice as well as teaching, he has become disillusioned with the increasingly numbers-led culture, at odds with his own clinical and people-focused priorities.
He says: “The veterinary professions need help from revised legislation. We are bound by an act which was passed in 1966. We live in a very different world now and, with corporate ownership of many practices, we need modern legislation that acknowledges and regulates that influence. Clients need to be better informed, with clear declarations of interest.”
This would surely be to the benefit of vets, the majority of whom have as little appetite for an increasingly profitdriven industry as the rest of us. I don’t know how I’d negotiate this if I was a vet, or indeed how you’d regulate it. I cited an occasion when my dog’s bad guts elicited from a very nice vet a list of options ranging from doing nothing, right up to an expensive overnight stay. Kate Platt, a practising vet for 25 years, was one of many who took exception at the implication that this was an attempt at upselling. In a letter to the Guardian, she wrote that she’d “never encountered a colleague who does not have the best interests of their patient first and foremost. We are trained to offer a variety of treatments at varying costs.”
OK, point taken. But to a pet owner’s ears the verysuggestion that an overnight stay might be at all appropriate suggests that your pooch could indeed be ill enough to necessitate one.
Platt is also clear that “veterinary care is expensive to provide and vets are under more pressure than ever before”. Yes, I get that. I can only imagine what pet owners like me put vets through even when they’re not writing articles about them. But surely the drive for profits is a source of pressure, too?
As Prof Innes puts it: “I taught at Bristol and Liverpool University vet schools for 22 years and the students are wonderful. Very vocational mostly. Sadly, the structure of the profession increasingly lets them down, and consequently lets pet owners like you down. Many vets leave the profession after a few years because they are disillusioned by bigger powers.”
I’ll leave it at that, hoping this will put a stop to a recurring nightmare I’ve been having of white-coated vets marching towards me bearing flaming torches and whatever tools they use to castrate dogs.
Adrian Chiles is a broadcaster, writer and Guardian columnist
specialise in cardiology from the age of 13, there’ll be a dreamy 18-year-old who signs up for a design course because they like the idea of drawing for three years.
On graduation, they’re spat out into the world and have to figure out what they actually want to do. That may involve some inner turmoil, but it doesn’t mean they’ve made a bad choice. Some of the unhappiest people I know are also the most creative. Their dissatisfaction has more to do with the precarity of their industry than any misery intrinsic to their job – when things go well, they’re more fulfilled than any corporate lawyer I know. They certainly wouldn’t be better off retraining in mathematics which, according to PwC (which did the analysis), would pay much better and make them only slightly unhappier than a dentist. (Want proof? Ask a room of arts graduates to explain the difference between median and mean figures.)
So what’s going on? “It is important to note that these findings could be a reflection of the career choices of graduates, rather than the merit of the courses,” PwC says. “Creative arts students may choose to work in industries or occupations where earnings are lower on average.” In other words: if you want cheerier artists, try paying them more.
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