J . small Anim. Pract. (1986) 27,289-290.

Editorial S E L L I N G O U R S E L V E S T O O U R S E L V E S

As every veterinary surgeon knows, it is the practice of certain avian species to fill their crops and then regurgitate the contents for the nourishment of their chicks. Fastidious persons may recoil from the notion of so queasy a pabulum, but, in the wider sphere, the practice seems not only to be fixed, but growing. We eat pre-prepared and pre-cooked meals; go on packaged holidays; look (at television) rather than do, and patronize a press that spares us the labour of thought. Even knowledge and understanding of our own affairs seems to be called for in painless easily digestible form.

These thoughts are prompted by hours of renewed efforts on the part of those who guide our profession, to tell its members what is being attempted and done for them. The President of the B.V.A. has published his first Newsletter; the Chief Executive has written, ‘You want to hear more about what the Association is doing for you,’ and described the requirement as ‘a clear theme’ sounded to him on his travels. The Royal College is also playing its part in a comparable endeavour. Over the years the same ‘clear theme’ has been heard and heard again.

The irony of the situation is that all the information members of the profession want, and should be given is already available in their literature, in Council and other meetings and in conferences and congresses, together with mentions from time to time in the newspapers and in what Sir Winston Churchill used to call ‘the broadcast’. In a word, the information is there for those willing to read or to listen; but it seems as though the majority are not willing to read.

The importance of members of the professions knowing what their associations are doing to protect their interests and forward their legitimate aims, is more important than ever when the professions, together with the universities and scientific institutes are being subjected as never before to investigation, regulation and criticism.

It may be suggested that a major difficulty in getting information across to members is the fragmentation of our small profession. There are territorial divisions, species divisions, specialist ditto, clinical clubs and so on. No doubt there are good reasons for such diversity, but it must surely militate against unanimity of outlook and action. Separate parts of a whole tend to be inward looking; and though there is enticement in following the advice of Dr Pangloss to ignore the world and cultivate one’s own garden, it is hardly practical politics in the harsh world we live in.

More intractable than the problem of fragmentation is the unending unrelenting call on veterinary surgeons’ time. With doctors we must be the busiest of all the professions, so it is not to be wondered at, however regrettable, that so many

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attempts to reach the majority are received with majestic indifference. When the Royal College first organized a members’ question and answer session following the Annual General Meeting the attendance was disappointing in the extreme. It was as though the more formidable snipers were following the counsel of Pangloss.

What, then, is to be done? First, in view of the problems posed above, it seems necessary to follow the example of birds that way inclined,’ and make the pabulum as easily digested as possible. Some suitably qualified person-a journalist with the so-called common touch, perhaps-might be employed as ‘private’, as differen- tiated from ‘public’ relations officer. Such a person might not be easy to find. He would need to present his material familiarly but without crudity; informed yet with an appearance of informality; easy but not irrelevant. The best of television illustrates that such people exist; and when it has become unavoidable to raise membership subscriptions to figures once undreamed of (this writer can recall the furore when they were increased from two guiness to four). The cry of value for money is not unreasonable. The irony, as has been suggested earlier, is that there is value, and very good value for money, if those who run could be persuaded to read.

Effective propaganda needs to have entertainment value-the work of James Herriott bears ample testimony to this: he has taught the public more appreciation of veterinary surgeons than all other efforts put together. Communication, or rather mastery of it, is a gift, but one that can be cultivated into a fine art. It is right and timely that a clear decision has been made to tackle the subject seriously.

Mr Hoskin, in his President’s Newsletter, put his finger on an essential but easily forgotten (or evaded) point when he wrote of ‘channels of communication which work in both directions’. There must be readers as well as writers; hearers as well as speakers; they are parts of one whole. A Victorian clergyman was said to apply a flail to the souls of his congregation. Regrettably, their souls were made of rubber and the flail rebounded, ineffectual. What the profession needs for its internal non-public relations is a more subtle, persuasive instrument than the parson’s flail-and a less pneumatic collective soul.

C. MITCHELL