© Photo by Bertie
I studied liberal arts at Princeton at the height of the post-structuralist age, when intellectual nihilism was in vogue and everything “real” was just a metaphor pointing to something else.
It was cool for a while. But it grew thin. I wanted something more solid, more useful, more noble - lord help me - and I turned to medicine. Here was a discipline grounded in science, built to do good in the world, with a mission that felt clear: understand the body, fix what you can, and help people get better. After the endless loops of theory, it was refreshingly concrete, purposeful, and seemed worth the formidable effort to learn.
But medicine, too, could be slippery and hollow at the core. When I was a resident, we were told pain was the “fifth vital sign” and that treating it aggressively was a moral imperative. Righteous, even. Only later did I learn that this push owed less to science than to marketing. The result was one of the biggest public health crises of our time.
It was the ghost of post-structuralism come back to haunt me: even in medicine, things were not always what they seemed.
Lately, though, I have come to appreciate that the practice of medicine offers the simplest, greatest thing: two people in a room, using words to try and discover the truth. A patient brings their story, symptoms, and fears. A doctor brings training, knowledge, and experience. Back and forth they go, seeking clarity, trying to pin down what’s happening and what to do.
Speech is not violence. OK, so what is speech? Speech is neutral but powerful, like a machete (not actually a machete).
Intent matters. A machete can be used to hack at an enemy or to clear a path through the brush. In the academy, in the media, and especially online, I mostly see words used to deceive, inflame, or attack. In the clinic, I mostly see them used to clear a path.
It’s not unique to medicine. It’s not why I went into medicine. It’s not even something I appreciated before. But I do now.
Love this post. I have been thinking about something similar in my life. I volunteer as a facilitator for parent discussion groups. For 75 minutes, groups of parents -- in person, in a room, in a circle -- talk together to unpack their challenges, concerns, and strategies, learning from each other's experiences and perspectives. “Back and forth they go, seeking clarity, trying to pin down what’s happening and what to do … using words to clear a path." Even when their stories are hard and solutions elusive, I’m grateful for this sacred space and purpose.
Your goodness shines through. Keep setting the unifying example. We need it.