Mega-Wealth Does Not Make a Just Health Care System
Property Rights Rule While Much-Derided U.S. Health Care Setup Deteriorates
The U.S. health care system or setup can make for dreary discussion because, well, the setup itself is a horrid mess and who likes a mess.
But look at the context and then try to find some fun and hope in the matter otherwise you might get mired in a dreary day.
The context: the U.S. capitalism system as is still a rock-solid supporter and enabler of property owners. At one time in the U.S.’s tawdry history property included Black people, which white people and some indigenous people enslaved. Sadly Oath Keepers and Proud Boys of today would still like it to be that way. It’s not, but the U.S. economic beast still demands a lot all in the name of property.
The 1619 Project puts it this way:
Private property is the cornerstone of capitalism. It is what allows someone to own a factory or a corporation, a piece of land or apartment building, and to secure profit from the workers or tenants who do not own such assets.
Capitalism is also what enables health care to be viewed as commodity instead of the human right that it is many other countries and should be here. Unless tamed, U.S. capitalism may be why universal health care from cradle to grave — provided and protected by the federal government — stays out of reach.
Nevertheless, because the current health care setup is all about co-pays, deductibles, insurance people and their bosses, plus snotty physicians employed by super wealthy, expensive, and wildly inefficient hospitals, the situation is horrendous, and the stench becomes more unbearable by the day.
The health care battlefield is a place where a pummeled populace could start a shift, turning things toward making the U.S. a vastly different place — one that values life and happiness over stone-cold property.
Finding the individuals and groups to work with in the quest can be difficult. I worked in groups where good hearts were felled by rotten motives and big egos.
For many years in Washington, D.C. I worked for “progressive” organizations dedicated to a better health care system.
But getting punched in the face or body slammed to the cold earth can give one a different perspective on matters than say that of a pampered multi-millionaire chief executive director of the so-called National Health Law Program allegedly devoted to dirt-poor parts of the U.S. populace where people go without any kind of health care coverage, the left behind so to speak.
When I worked at the D.C. nonprofit many years ago, the CEO, then a grandmotherly type with dyed blond hair and an attorney husband working in one of the wealthiest law firms in D.C., was often irritated by my press releases and writing in general which noted inequality in the health care system including Medicaid, about the only health insurance setup the group knows or “cares” about.
The CEO, let’s call her Liz Baylor, would hector me about criticizing “health care” insurance groups and their lobbyists and super wealthy people because she was “comfortably well-off.” Baylor also had an annoying habit of using Christian platitudes in meetings and stuffing her workplace calendar with religious outings and whatnot.
Why this super wealthy Christian white woman attempted to lead a group supposedly organized to help enroll people in Medicaid and then help them navigate the exclusive insurance program is beyond me, almost.
The group’s legal director is the true force behind the “National Health Law Program,” and she is certainly a Karen. The group’s legal director, an annoying white woman from North Carolina, is also a heavy-handed power-hungry, control freak who picks the CEOs ensuring her will always rules the day.
So the super wealthy Christian, but grandmotherly CEO I reported to took direction from the legal director who had her own office and staff in N.C., where her law professor husband rakes in an outlandishly big-ass salary. The legal director, we’ll call Karen Lerkins, hired all white women for assistant and associate attorneys, and was constantly asking for more attorneys — so the group could peddle suspect litigation and then navel-gaze about it in staff meetings and emails to “supporters,” and relevant reporters.
This super wealthy CEO, Liz Baylor, had little legal knowledge of the Medicaid program, but was familiar with President Obama’s Affordable Care Act, an expensive semipublic health insurance setup that is wildly expensive and inaccessible to tens of millions of people who need health care, not co-payments, deductibles, and patchwork care.
Despite her constant braying about my ideals, behavior, and emails, all which she deemed poor and/or deranged, she was often pleasant and quite funny. In our one-on-one meetings, which we often had, and in out-of-work settings with a drink and meal, she could be endearing and at times somewhat caring — though she never inquired about my mental health or overall health in general. And others on staff, younger, found her cold, aloof and at times tone-deaf.
I could see that about her, but I tend now to remember Baylor for the most part, fondly. She was a person who laughed often and did not take herself so seriously. Despite her wealth she seemed emotionally invested in making the organization relevant in the fight for a better health care setup, especially for the poorest among us. It was other factors that sucked out Baylor’s interest in health care for the poor, if not the job itself.
If not for a heavy handed power-thirsty legal director, Baylor might have transformed the organization from a Medicaid obsessed outfit into a relevant organization devoted to a universal and just health care system, not a bad way to spend one’s time.
There are however groups on the horizon both national and local who are proving to be serious and focused on keeping the march for universal care alive — the National Nurses United is one such organization.
