Walter Holland, an early pioneer of health services research (HSR) in the UK National Health Service (NHS), has written an unusual and highly personal account of his life as a researcher and research leader. For what can often be a rather arid, uninspiring subject, he has brought many aspects of it to life in an engaging manner, making effective use of anecdotes and insider knowledge. At the same time, while making the occasional reference to current health policy issues and their largely evidence free character, it is a curiously dated book and one that is hard to categorise.
Whatever else it purports to be, the book is neither a complete history nor a systematic review of HSR’s evolution in England. The most thoroughly documented period is from the 1970s up to the 1990s, and then the sequence of events tails off and becomes much more selective. There is, for instance, no mention of the Cooksey review in 2006 of UK health research funding (Cooksey, Reference Chinitz and Rodwin2006) and no mention of the Department of Health strategy published earlier that same year, Best Research for Best Health: A New National Health Research Strategy (Department of Health, 2006). More surprising, perhaps, is the complete absence of any mention of the National Institute for Health Research (NIHR), the sprawling empire so successfully created in 2006 and built up over subsequent years by Sally Davies who, since 2010, has been Chief Medical Officer for England. Possibly more than any other advocate for research, she has firmly established HSR’s place in England, if not the United Kingdom, and ensured that its funding has remained remarkably intact during a period of severe public spending cuts. Without doubt, the NIHR has increased the volume of applied health research and provided support for researchers through training programmes and fellowships of various types.
Contemporary challenges facing HSR
The book contains little reflection or critical analysis of the many dilemmas that permeate the whole HSR enterprise, although some do get a brief mention. There are various debates, one can point to, which continue to exercise both those doing HSR and those who ostensibly should benefit from its findings. Three are singled out for attention – the vexed issue of generalisation, how to mobilise knowledge most effectively and ensuring impact.
The generalisability trap
The issue of generalisability permeates HSR and has its origins in an overly narrow evidence-based medicine (EBM)-type approach, which owes more to observing the tenets of a spurious scientism in order that broad claims can be made for the findings that may satisfy policymakers (Frankford, Reference Frankford1994). However, invariably, HSR involves understanding ‘wicked problems’, which get played out (or not) in complex settings that themselves are highly contextual and not susceptible to generalisation or to producing a neat set of conclusions and recommendations which can be rolled out across whole health systems with similar effect (Rittel and Webber, Reference Rittel and Webber1973). Clinical practice involves uncertainty and meeting patient needs that are invariably heterogeneous and multiple. In such contexts, the certainty offered by science, as Klein noted some time ago in his critique of the ‘new scientism’, will ‘prove elusive’ (Klein, Reference Klein1996). A risk with trying to produce useful generalisations is that they tend to be pitched at such a level of abstraction as to be meaningless when applied to a given context.
Knowledge mobilisation
A national review of health research in the United Kingdom identified what it termed ‘translational gaps’ in the process, particularly when it came to implementing research findings and using evidence to change clinical practice and health care delivery (Cooksey, Reference Chinitz and Rodwin2006). As a result, there is growing interest in, and a burgeoning literature on, related issues around knowledge mobilisation, knowledge transfer, knowledge exchange and knowledge brokerage. Sometimes the terms are slippery, lack precision and are used interchangeably; however, what all have in common, and are seeking to address, is the relationship between those producing research and those consuming it that can often be difficult and not as mutually rewarding as it ought to be. In particular, the interests of research users need to be included at the outset of a study during the conception phase. Although Holland rightly draws attention to such issues, he perhaps underestimates the difficulties of developing research based on co-production principles where researchers, on the one hand, and policymakers and practitioners, on the other, require a better and deeper understanding of their respective worlds. There are implications for training and developing researchers who perhaps need to show a bit more humility when confronted by the messy, complex real world of policy and practice involving politics and power plays.
Ensuring impact
Hardly surprising, then, that a third dilemma that confronts HSR is that, despite the millions spent on it, its impact on the health system is variable. Governments fund the NIHR and the various research councils; but are they getting value for money from their investment? Until recently, that question was rarely raised and certainly not in public. The measure of success lay in having a skilfully crafted research proposal positively peer-reviewed and then funded. Claims about impact and making a difference were rare, if ever pursued, and success was deemed to have been achieved once the final report received approval and entered the public domain. Whether anything happened to it was not something researchers generally worried about or considered to be their business. Consequently, the conclusion reached recently by two observers of health policy and management seems apposite: “Despite decades of policy and management interventions to make health care organisations more effective, efficient, and equitable, ebbs and flows in managed care, and grouping and regroupings of hospitals and physicians, little has changed in the basic arrangements within which physicians practice” (Chinitz and Rodwin, Reference Cooksey2014: 1119).
The reasons for such a state of affairs are complex and multiple. Some are cultural in that, unlike clinicians, few health service managers seem to regard research as being of value to their work. This is not to suggest HSR makes no difference – a review of one of the NIHR’s funding streams demonstrated that research had influenced policy and practice (Peckham et al., Reference Peckham, Willmott, Allen, Anderson and Goodwin2008) – but that impact is not commensurate with the significant investment in research. Observers of the NHS were taken aback when its new chief executive, Simon Stevens, actually mentioned the importance of research and heeding its findings in a recent speech to an audience of NHS managers. No one can recall any previous occupant of that post giving such an explicit endorsement of the value of research.
Thanks to Cooksey and the UK’s Research Excellence Framework 2014, the issue of impact is now high on the research agenda, too high for some academics’ liking who regard the whole business as distasteful, distorting and putting at risk the way research is currently conducted and funded. If not quite a ‘game-changer’, the emphasis now placed on impact and devising impact case studies to demonstrate what has changed as a result of some piece of research being adopted by policymakers and practitioners comes close. Irrespective of the teething problems and shortcomings arising from the approach to assessing impact in its first introductory phase – and there are many – ensuring impact is here to stay. This is not just a consequence of the industry that has rapidly burgeoned on the back of it, adding to universities’ already bloated management overhead, but because the genie is out of the bottle and cannot be stuffed back in again. Conducting research for its own sake is no longer sufficient, especially when it comes to HSR. Of course there are risks with such an instrumental, reductionist view of research, but at the same time there are questions to be asked about how research gets used in practice and if not why not. As things stand, research is being stockpiled often with new studies seeming to replicate earlier ones, which have had limited if any impact. It may be time to interrogate more critically the fate of that body of research and insist that future research is able to articulate, in the new jargon, ‘pathways to impact’.
Of course, as Holland describes, HRS has often included an applied or action component; however, there is now a strong expectation, if not requirement, that there has to be some tangible evidence of the research commissioned having changed something somewhere. A dilemma with this laudable aim is that it is incredibly hard to document with certainty what precisely has changed as a consequence of a particular study. In complex systems, attributing causation to a piece of research will rarely, if ever, be possible or make complete sense. Regrettably, it will not prevent the ‘gaming’ that is already becoming a feature of the attempt to demonstrate unequivocally that some research has significantly changed practice or a policy. At best, research is likely to have an impact if it converges with other factors such as political will, public opinion or some other trigger. Kingdon’s notion of ‘policy windows’ captures this dynamic (Kingdon, Reference Kingdon1984). However, few researchers actively seek to align their research with such policy openings and if there is convergence it is often more a matter of luck rather than design.
Speaking truth to power
In addition to these three particular debates, there is a further, and arguably more deep-seated, challenge that faces HSR, especially that which is targeted on policy in sensitive or highly politicised sectors. Again, although Holland touches on this difficult area, he seems to take the view that policymakers who fail to take account of research on matters where politics and ideology all too readily prevail are acting in error and ignoring important lessons. That may be and as he rightly points out, the example of successive reorganisations – or ‘redisorganisations’ as they have been termed (Smith et al., Reference Smith, Walshe and Hunter2001) – is a case in point where numerous structural and other changes have been pursued either in the absence of evidence or in the face of evidence, which shows that the changes will not have the desired effect and could have significant negative ones. The most recent example of such wilful dismissal of the evidence concerns the coalition government’s 2013 NHS and public health changes, both of which were heralded in 2010 shortly after the government’s election and in the aftermath of David Cameron’s comment in the run-up to the election that no more top-down reorganisations would be foisted upon the NHS, as there was general agreement that they did not work. Certainly this was a central conclusion from a sizeable body of research evidence that had accumulated over the years. Not surprisingly, therefore, the changes contained in the Health and Social Care Act 2012 have been condemned by numerous academic researchers for reasons with which Holland would sympathise (Hunter, 2011).
It was Aaron Wildavsky who probably best described the dilemma facing academics when he observed wryly: “speaking truth to power remains the ideal of analysts who hope they have truth, but realise they have not (and in a democracy, should not have) power. No one can do analysis without becoming aware that moral considerations are integral to the enterprise” (Wildavsky, Reference Wildavsky1979). Wildavsky, like another home-grown health policy analyst, Rudolf Klein, was critical of the evidence-based policy tradition, borne out of the EBM movement, spawned by a spurious scientism that sought to keep facts and values separate (Klein, Reference Klein1996). Often, HSR, especially of a qualitative type which seeks to understand the assumptive worlds of policymakers and practitioners, produces findings and provides insights that can be threatening to those engaged in the enterprise or whose pet schemes are the basis of the policy being researched and that are challenged at one’s peril (Pollitt et al., Reference Pollitt, Harrison, Hunter and Marnoch1990).
The discomforts of researching the policy process
Raising difficult or unpalatable truths can put researchers in an invidious position vis-à-vis policymakers, especially when the majority of funded research comes from government. Various problems, barriers and obstacles can arise, including the following:
1. Grant starvation – the research is not welcome or deemed necessary.
2. Denial of access to conduct field work.
3. Restrictions on, or delay in, publication because the findings are critical of government policy or ‘off message’.
4. An unbalanced focus on the good news, not the bad.
5. Inconvenient findings that are ignored, buried, rubbished.
6. Researchers attacked personally for their motives and/or blacklisted with associated consequences when it comes to accessing research funds.
However, such trials and tribulations tend to be at the extreme end of the fate that can befall some researchers who are labelled arch critics of government policy and risk being blacklisted. More commonly, the complaints are far less extreme or invidious and reflect a general frustration on the part of researchers that they are not listened to or that events move so swiftly that by the time the research delivers the policy and organisational landscape may be transformed (Hunter, Reference Hunter2008). It may be why, as Holland notes, using management consultants holds considerable appeal, especially gold-plated global players such as McKinsey’s. Of course, it is easy for them because they do not have to navigate a hugely elaborate and bureaucratic ethics and research access process, which can both sap the energy and patience of academic researchers and take up to a year or more to complete if multiple sites are involved. And then at the end of the process, before the final report can be published it has to go through elaborate peer review, editorial checks and copy-editing procedures, which may take another year to complete. Although all this process activity may have its merits in terms of assuring quality, given the pace of change in health systems, it can result in important research missing the tide. What might seem timely can rapidly become dated and unfashionable even if the key messages are of enduring value. Timeliness and impact go together.
However, researchers are not blameless in terms of their behaviour and/or a failure to appreciate the way complex organisations work and engage with research. As Raymond Illsley pointed out in his Rock Carling monograph, often researchers are, with understandable reason, so fixated on their careers and the need to publish in respectable peer-reviewed outlets that they pay scant heed to the needs of policymakers and how dissemination of research might best be undertaken to meet their needs (Illsley, Reference Illsley1980). There is an assumption that sound evidence ought to be enough of a pull to get enacted without having to consider whether or not it needs a bit of a push to get it recognised and, hopefully, adopted.
Some concluding reflections
Curiously, for a government that has often ignored or given short shrift to the evidence, it remains committed to what works. Indeed, to demonstrate its commitment, in 2013, several what work centres were established under a Cabinet Office initiative to improve the impact of social policy research in areas such as crime reduction, active ageing, early intervention, educational attainment and local economic growth (HM Government, Reference Hunter2013). The centres have been modelled on the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE), which is seen as an exemplar of how independent and authoritative evidence-based guidance can be produced to meet the needs of professionals and policymakers. NICE’s remit was extended in 2013 under the Health and Social Care Act 2012 to include social care alongside its work in clinical care and public health. If nothing else, NICE and the new what work centres are important examples of attempts to create innovative ways of working at the interface between research and practice. Even so, questions are asked about the fate of NICE guidance and its rate of take-up by frontline organisations. NICE gets a brief single mention in Holland’s account, which seems a little surprising, given the significant influence it has acquired over its 15 years in existence and the high respect accorded to it around the world.
The only other personal account of at least some aspects of HSR of which I am aware is Illsley’s (Reference Illsley1980) Rock Carling Lecture noted earlier. It is chiefly concerned with medical sociology as Illsley at the time was director of the MRC’s Medical Sociology Unit based at Aberdeen University. However, in his monograph arising from the lecture, Illsley has some pertinent comments to make that echo those of Holland with regard to the absence of a structure of research careers and the need for stable bases in which to pursue those careers (Illsley, Reference Illsley1980). He also argues for more sustained research effort over time to establish “a deeper knowledge and understanding of certain major areas (life-styles, life-cycles, health beliefs, and the formulation and implementation of major policy issues) and the development of techniques for the continuous evaluation of major services” (Illsley, Reference Illsley1980: 170). As mentioned earlier, the arrival of the NIHR has done much to improve the situation for researchers and their careers in terms of providing sustainable infrastructure. However, the fixed term contract culture remains an impediment to building and sustaining the capacity needed to attract and retain quality researchers. In public health, a sector particularly starved of research resources, there have been recent initiatives designed to build such capacity, notably the UK Clinical Research Collaboration’s five national public health research centres of excellence and the NIHR’s School for Public Health Research established in 2012.
Illsley was in some aspects ahead of his time. He anticipated the current preoccupation with impact and getting evidence into practice. He felt curiosity-driven research would take care of itself as the system (then and for the most part still) is set up to produce it – a view endorsed by Walshe and Davies who argue that research influence and impact on practice are often not prioritised (Walshe and Davies, Reference Walshe and Davies2010). Illsley also opined that the impact of research occurs ‘by slowly and imperceptibly’ modifying the ways in which actions are decided. He was keen to explore the hypothesis that the chances of implementation might be strengthened if researchers immersed themselves in the world of policy and practice and developed sound, high-trust relationships with those working on the frontline to implement policies. He knew that, for the most part, such people rarely, if ever, read peer-reviewed academic journals. Personal contact, therefore, became essential if researchers seriously wanted to make a difference to how things were done. If the desire is to construct a different relationship between the worlds of research and policy, and perhaps go some way towards speaking truth to power with a degree of authority and prospect of influence, then it might be appropriate to aspire to what has been termed ‘the interactive model’ (Bowen and Zwi, Reference Bowen and Zwi2005). The model is based on the view that the search for knowledge needs to move beyond research to include a variety of sources such as politics and stakeholder interests. It aims to reflect the complexity and messiness of the policy process. Without using such terminology, the importance of relationship building is a key message to emerge from Holland’s account of his research journey.
However, let us not delude ourselves and instead end on a humbling note. Irrespective of what policymakers and practitioners may say about valuing research, it will in most cases continue to come low down on the list of factors that go to shape and influence policy. A former academic and senior policy adviser to the UK government identified nine sources of evidence that policymakers usually rely on (cited in Hunter, Reference Hunter2013). Of these nine, research comes last, whereas the evidence from experts, including consultants and think tanks, comes first, followed by evidence from professional bodies, pressure groups, ideology, the media and lay opinion. Perhaps, in a democracy this is as it should be however defective and wasteful such an outcome can be. At best we can strive for improved research-informed health and health care policy and practice (Ovretveit, Reference Ovretveit2007). To aspire to evidence-based policy is either being arrogant or naïve.
