I'm posting Brecht's poem 'A Worker’s Speech To A Doctor' to draw attention to the recent publication of a pamphlet by the Radical History Network of North East London, The NHS IS 60: undervalued, under-funded, undermined. Including a number of accounts of organising within the NHS and without, the pamphlet 'attempts to see clearly through the manufactured euphoria which will undoubtedly emerge around the 60th anniversary in July 2008 and provide a more realistic view.' There is surely much material which could provide further reading of interest to fans of Mme Tlank's recent article on surveillance and control under marketised welfare [http://www.metamute.org/en/The-Battle-of-all-Mothers] Copies of the pamphlet can be obtained from RaHN c/o Grove Park Road, Tottenham, N15 4SL.

A Worker’s Speech To A Doctor

We know what makes us ill
When we are ill, we are told
That it’s you who will heal us.

For ten years, we are told
You learned healing in fine schools
Built at the people’s expense
And to get your knowledge
Spent a fortune.
So you must be able to heal
Are you able to heal?

When we come to you
Our rags are torn off us
And you listen all over our naked body
As to the cause of our illness
One glance at our rags would
Tell you more. It is the same cause that wears
Our bodies and our clothes.

The pain in our shoulder comes
You say, from the damp; and this is also the reason
For the stain on the wall of our flat.
So tell us; where does the damp come from?

Too much work and too little food
Makes us feeble and thin
Your prescription says;
Put on more weight
You might as well tell a bulrush
Not to get wet.

How much time can you give us?
We see: one carpet in your flat costs
The fees you earn from
Five thousand consultations.

You’ll no doubt say
You are innocent. The damp patch
On the wall of our flats
Tells the same story

Bertholdt Brecht