The advent of a new year reminds me that some 42 years have elapsed since I first took up my pen to write the Nemo column. Much has happened in the intervening years, and their events need to be kept in mind. The contribution of opticians to the NHS's early days had brought them public recognition and undreamed of prosperity. The seal of official approval was finally affixed in 1958 by the Opticians Act, according them professional status.
Thus inspired, the Great and the Good set out to create a profession of their own devising. Prominent among them was the redoubtable George Giles, who bestrode the optical scene like a colossus. A barrister as well as an ophthalmic optician, he managed to combine the secretaryships of the AOP and the British Optical Association. So bizarre a feat is reminiscent of Peter Sellers' Goon Show creation 'General Gonzales, the commander of both sides in our glorious revolution'!
Though professionalism is generally accepted as synonymous with a developed sense of responsibility, the dominant view in those days was apparently that opticians needed to be kept under a tight rein.
The establishment's chef d'oeuvre, the Publicity Rules 1964, repeatedly mentioned in this column, achieved the doubtful distinction of being subjected by reason of their severity to a parliamentary move to render them stillborn. A telling ministerial observation at the time was that they were something no other profession would tolerate!
It was obvious from the outset that the restrictive practices enshrined in the Rules and their authors' doctrinaire philosophy were doomed to eventual failure. Undeterred by the development of consumerism and media concern with the Rules' imposition of trading restraints, the quest for the Holy Grail continued unabated. The public interest clearly demanded that something be done. Departmental pressure eventually brought about a change in the Rules, and parliament deprived the profession of its sales monopoly and then legalised the general sales of ready-made reading glasses.
One also recalls the suspicion that formerly existed between the two branches of the profession. In the early 1960s the prospect of the two working in the same establishment was beyond practitioners' comprehension.
Similarly, to describe the inter-relationship of independents and corporate multiples as less than cordial would be an understatement. Conventional wisdom taught that corporate practice had no place in a professional context.
The level of optical business in the early 1960s was depressing, the NHS bonanza having evaporated, and private practice being conspicuous by its absence. Spectacle wearers were understandably disenchanted with the drab NHS frame 'styles'. Pressure on departmental sources fortunately resulted in opticians being allowed to glaze private frames with regulation shape NHS lenses, giving birth to the 'hybrid'. Unfortunately, the optical industry's earlier myopic fixation with full order books for antiquated NHS appliances had left a gaping hole in the UK frame market. Needless to say, foreign manufacturers needed little encouragement to fill it.
Insatiable public demand for sight testing in the NHS's early days, and the resulting prosperity it brought to practitioners, unfortunately obscured a fundamental factor Ð namely, the rate for the job. As demand slackened this assumed greater significance. Crucial to the problem was that the profession had but one customer for its services. NHS paymasters, intent on obtaining the best possible service at the lowest possible price, thus had no difficulty in calling the tune to which practitioners had to dance.
Curiously, despite repeated rebuffs, hope springs eternal in the profession's negotiators' breasts that one day they will receive their just rewards. Traditional departmental attitudes and an established pattern of NHS remuneration cast doubt on such optimism. Why should the department pay more when opticians are prepared to work for what they are given? This suggests periodic incremental increases until if ever, a new remuneration system is agreed. Or does the dental profession indicate a better way forward?
Dealing with more positive issues, ophthalmic optical training, which as late as the 1950s accepted part-time training, progressed via technical colleges and polytechnics to Colleges of Advanced Technology and finally to universities. The ultimate professional accolade Ð the degree Ð had thus arrived! Rationalisation of a top-heavy examining body sector had already disposed of four of the five competing for a limited number of students. The anachronistic retention of a professional diploma for registration purposes remains to be resolved, however.
In recent years much has been heard about ophthalmic optics' manpower problem. The facts speak for themselves. Practitioners became increasingly scarce on the ground, enabling employees to write their own salary cheques, and prices similarly to rise to unprecedented levels. Seemingly we are heading for a surfeit of practitioners, the economic consequences of which have still to be demonstrated. The associated problem of optical prices clearly needs, however, to be kept under review.
Éand to the future
The intriguing question today is, to where the profession is heading? Are the idealists likely to succeed in their quest for an impressively sounding quasi-medical role and if so, how is it to be paid for?
Could such practitioners survive without retailing profits? Finally, is the demand for sight-testing opticians likely to fall in consequence of increasingly sophisticated automated refraction systems?
On this occasion I do not venture beyond posing such questions. My crystal ball has, alas, become clouded, and the pen is finally running dry. Forty-two years is a long time, too long, some might aver, suggesting that having written for every optician editor except the first, the time has come for me to make way for others.
May I, therefore, thank all regular readers of this column, especially those who have written to or about me Ð whatever their views.Looking backÉ
The advent of a new year reminds me that some 42 years have elapsed since I first took up my pen to write the Nemo column. Much has happened in the intervening years, and their events need to be kept in mind. The contribution of opticians to the NHS's early days had brought them public recognition and undreamed of prosperity. The seal of official approval was finally affixed in 1958 by the Opticians Act, according them professional status.
Thus inspired, the Great and the Good set out to create a profession of their own devising. Prominent among them was the redoubtable George Giles, who bestrode the optical scene like a colossus. A barrister as well as an ophthalmic optician, he managed to combine the secretaryships of the AOP and the British Optical Association. So bizarre a feat is reminiscent of Peter Sellers' Goon Show creation 'General Gonzales, the commander of both sides in our glorious revolution'!
Though professionalism is generally accepted as synonymous with a developed sense of responsibility, the dominant view in those days was apparently that opticians needed to be kept under a tight rein.
The establishment's chef d'oeuvre, the Publicity Rules 1964, repeatedly mentioned in this column, achieved the doubtful distinction of being subjected by reason of their severity to a parliamentary move to render them stillborn. A telling ministerial observation at the time was that they were something no other profession would tolerate!
It was obvious from the outset that the restrictive practices enshrined in the Rules and their authors' doctrinaire philosophy were doomed to eventual failure. Undeterred by the development of consumerism and media concern with the Rules' imposition of trading restraints, the quest for the Holy Grail continued unabated. The public interest clearly demanded that something be done. Departmental pressure eventually brought about a change in the Rules, and parliament deprived the profession of its sales monopoly and then legalised the general sales of ready-made reading glasses.
One also recalls the suspicion that formerly existed between the two branches of the profession. In the early 1960s the prospect of the two working in the same establishment was beyond practitioners' comprehension.
Similarly, to describe the inter-relationship of independents and corporate multiples as less than cordial would be an understatement. Conventional wisdom taught that corporate practice had no place in a professional context.
The level of optical business in the early 1960s was depressing, the NHS bonanza having evaporated, and private practice being conspicuous by its absence. Spectacle wearers were understandably disenchanted with the drab NHS frame 'styles'. Pressure on departmental sources fortunately resulted in opticians being allowed to glaze private frames with regulation shape NHS lenses, giving birth to the 'hybrid'. Unfortunately, the optical industry's earlier myopic fixation with full order books for antiquated NHS appliances had left a gaping hole in the UK frame market. Needless to say, foreign manufacturers needed little encouragement to fill it.
Insatiable public demand for sight testing in the NHS's early days, and the resulting prosperity it brought to practitioners, unfortunately obscured a fundamental factor Ð namely, the rate for the job. As demand slackened this assumed greater significance. Crucial to the problem was that the profession had but one customer for its services. NHS paymasters, intent on obtaining the best possible service at the lowest possible price, thus had no difficulty in calling the tune to which practitioners had to dance.
Curiously, despite repeated rebuffs, hope springs eternal in the profession's negotiators' breasts that one day they will receive their just rewards. Traditional departmental attitudes and an established pattern of NHS remuneration cast doubt on such optimism. Why should the department pay more when opticians are prepared to work for what they are given? This suggests periodic incremental increases until if ever, a new remuneration system is agreed. Or does the dental profession indicate a better way forward?
Dealing with more positive issues, ophthalmic optical training, which as late as the 1950s accepted part-time training, progressed via technical colleges and polytechnics to Colleges of Advanced Technology and finally to universities. The ultimate professional accolade Ð the degree Ð had thus arrived! Rationalisation of a top-heavy examining body sector had already disposed of four of the five competing for a limited number of students. The anachronistic retention of a professional diploma for registration purposes remains to be resolved, however.
In recent years much has been heard about ophthalmic optics' manpower problem. The facts speak for themselves. Practitioners became increasingly scarce on the ground, enabling employees to write their own salary cheques, and prices similarly to rise to unprecedented levels. Seemingly we are heading for a surfeit of practitioners, the economic consequences of which have still to be demonstrated. The associated problem of optical prices clearly needs, however, to be kept under review.
Éand to the future
The intriguing question today is, to where the profession is heading? Are the idealists likely to succeed in their quest for an impressively sounding quasi-medical role and if so, how is it to be paid for?
Could such practitioners survive without retailing profits? Finally, is the demand for sight-testing opticians likely to fall in consequence of increasingly sophisticated automated refraction systems?
On this occasion I do not venture beyond posing such questions. My crystal ball has, alas, become clouded, and the pen is finally running dry. Forty-two years is a long time, too long, some might aver, suggesting that having written for every optician editor except the first, the time has come for me to make way for others.
May I, therefore, thank all regular readers of this column, especially those who have written to or about me Ð whatever their views.
Looking backÉ