By Tim Murgatroyd

IS it just me who fears a privatised NHS like the plague?

I’ve reached the age where many of my older relatives are starting to suffer health problems. When you’re young you imagine you’ll party forever. As the old The Who song goes: “Hope I die before I get old.” By middle age that delusion has been replaced by a grumble of minor physical gripes, if you’re lucky, and urgent health breakdowns if you’re not.

We all know this. It’s the destiny of every living creature.

That’s why the NHS is so beloved by the people of this city. According to a YouGov survey 84 per cent of people in the UK actively want public ownership of their health services.

Think of the benefit every local family and individual receives from the NHS, not just as a one-off but over the course of a human life (birth, childhood illnesses then giving birth and on through adulthood to old age).

Since the NHS was introduced in 1948, we have lived safe in the knowledge that it’s free at the point of use. Not like America, we tell ourselves smugly, where millions upon millions can’t afford the insurance for any decent medical help when they fall ill.

Because that’s the point: it’s free. Well, not exactly free. Our parents invested in the NHS over their working lives and so do all ordinary people. It is part of our publicly-owned heritage. Those of us without tax accountants in the Cayman Islands or other (perfectly legal) offshore tax havens gladly pay our National Insurance and Income Tax every month. We pay in order to get something wonderful back.

York Press:

HANDS OFF: The NHS must stay free for all to use, says our columnist Tim

And that’s also why you never hear a single politician openly advocating privatisation of the NHS. ‘Safe in our hands’ is the official mantra. Yet, as we’ve had cause to say in this column before, actions speak louder than words.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to wealth creation or even the profit motive for almost all areas of life. But when it comes to people’s health, I make a strong exception.

Because it is very hard to argue privatisation leads to better patient care.

According to the Department of Health’s own figures, in the financial year 2015-16, a whopping eight per cent of all health spending (that’s not just on the NHS) made its way into private hands, up from four per cent in 2009-10.

One result according to Government figures is a vast increase in administration costs. In 1979, only 5p of every pound went on admin in the NHS. In 2010 it was 14p per pound.

At the same time there has been a massive cut in the number of hospital beds and A&E departments due to austerity measures, coupled with cuts to social care that make the NHS hugely less efficient. What, you might ask, has all that to do with York? My fear is that when our publicly-owned NHS has been run down to an extent that it’s no longer functioning we’ll be offered a gradual, stealthy journey towards paying for our medical treatment.

A small charge for a trip to the GP, for example, that seems affordable at first then goes up year by year. Gradual hikes in prescriptions. Contracts with a chunky percentage of private profit factored in for GP or physiotherapy or occupational health services, district nurses, ambulances.

Is that so far-fetched when we consider how much extra we have to pay private-owned train companies?

Except, you can choose to go on a train journey. No one can choose the day and extent they will need high quality health care.

Then, like dreamers waking up to a nightmare, we might find ourselves without the means to pay. The Who’s song might seem horribly relevant. After all, we are not so different in a physical sense from our American cousins in New York. The big difference in old York is that we have a safety net.

That’s why I fear a privatised NHS like the plague. It seems to me a potential epidemic of physical and emotional suffering for the financial benefit of a tiny number of already well-off people.