One of the big news stories of the fall, discussed around coffee tables in workplaces and in text messages with friends, was about something that can sound as boring as "government communication on public health". I'm referring, of course, to the National Board of Health and Welfare's updated advice to healthcare professionals on the limits of risky alcohol use, released in September this year.
In itself a rather dry product. The National Board of Health and Welfare is tasked with providing guidance to the healthcare sector on a wide range of issues.
What triggered a minor media storm were the glasses themselves. For women, the guidelines did not change, but for men they were lowered to the same level as for women: anyone who drinks more than ten standard glasses per week, or four standard glasses or more per drinking occasion once a month or more often, should be offered "counseling or other support" due to risky use.
And somewhere in here, some people got worried, upset, or just quietly amused. For where one authority expresses itself in terms of "four standard glasses" and "drinking occasions", some people see the outlines of a better dinner, or perhaps an unusually festive after work. Where one authority sees 'risk-taking', some others see a lively pensioner with a rich social life.
"Silly and moralizing" thought Edward Blom. "Incorrect," shouted Agnes Wold. The health sector was also concerned - Marina Tuutuma of the District Medical Association said that twice as many general practitioners are needed to deal with the now very large group of people who can be defined as at-risk users.
The National Board of Health and Welfare had to clarify that it is "not the intention" that everyone who has four small beers should promptly receive care, but the advice should be seen as a support for the profession.
What was really happening? A zealous authority moralizing over even fairly normal alcohol consumption? Or an oversensitive people, cheered on by a hard-line media, who should just calm down?
The story is particularly interesting because the Swedish people have a history of listening very carefully, perhaps too carefully, to the National Board of Health and Welfare.
When the Director General of the National Board of Health and Welfare, Bror Rexed, asked staff to address him as "you" in a speech in 1967, it quickly became known throughout the country. What was initially intended as internal government communication was interpreted by some Swedes as the National Board of Health and Welfare deciding that now it was the end of the niandet. For everyone.
When, in the mid-1970s, the bakery industry's association ran a campaign with the very clear text "The National Board of Health and Welfare wants us to eat 6-8 slices of bread a day", some people interpreted this as coming from the National Board of Health and Welfare, and as an example of how the state eats into our private lives.
Although these two events took place a long time ago, and the National Board of Health and Welfare had strictly speaking nothing to do with one of them, they are probably in the memory of those who communicate from the agency.
When the communication around the new alcohol advice was still the big talk, we at EPHI naturally wanted to include the National Board of Health and Welfare in our podcast Health for the Unhealthy, which is one of Sweden's largest podcasts on public health. Countless doctors, politicians from all parliamentary parties, government officials, authors and not least researchers have been involved in one or more of the over one hundred episodes recorded since the start.
The Social Board's friendly press secretary promised to get back to us. Then we were heard again. And again. And phoned. And emailed. We explained what questions we wanted to ask, our ideological leanings, and whether it was possible to do the interview over the phone instead of in a studio.
The person who, according to the authority, is best suited to appear on the podcast is so busy that a telephone interview lasting around 45 minutes has not yet been able to be squeezed into the calendar.
But we haven't been told no yet! And hope is the last thing that abandons man, especially at Christmas.
There are lots of questions we want to ask the National Board of Health and Welfare. Did the launch of the advice turn out as the agency expected? Are they happy with the attention? Do they think the media portrayal was accurate? And last but not least: what new research is the new advice based on?
We look forward to 2024, and the offer to the National Board of Health and Welfare still stands. To talk in peace and quiet about one of the biggest Swedish public health news of 2023.
Fredrik Torehammar
Sustainability Manager at EPHI
