Every year, Doctors’ Day serves as a gentle nudge to the conscience of the healthcare fraternity — reminding us not just of our medical degrees or our diagnostic acumen, but of the Hippocratic oath, of humility, and above all, of empathy.
These are the foundational pillars of our profession. But walk through the corridors of many a healthcare institution today, and the contrast between the noble intent and the daily experience is jarring. Bureaucratic arrogance has replaced bedside compassion.
Hospitality is reserved for VIPs while the ordinary patient is left to navigate a labyrinth of hurdles.
The helping hand has been replaced by the haughty wave. And in offices of those who once served with grace, you now find people who seem to have forgotten why the chair was ever given to them.
Where have the Alijans, Nasirs, and Mehrajdins of the medical world gone — doctors who lived their profession with simplicity, quiet brilliance, and an unwavering commitment to service?
Where is the humility that once defined leadership in healthcare? What happened to the idea that positions are for facilitation, not domination?
The tragedy of power: When the chair becomes the crown
The phenomenon is neither new nor restricted to medicine. But in healthcare — a space that should throb with compassion — it is particularly painful.
A doctor or administrator rises to become a Director, Principal, Head of Dept, Medical Superintendent, CMO, DHO, BMO. And suddenly, the warm colleague, the approachable senior, turns cold.
Behind shiny office doors, they begin to treat fellow professionals with disdain, often refusing basic courtesy to juniors and equals alike. Patients become “cases” and not people; colleagues become liabilities to be managed, not partners in healing.
This transformation, as research has shown, is not accidental. Power distorts perception. It inflates the ego, numbs empathy, and breeds entitlement.
The “power paradox,” as psychologist Dacher Keltner explains, is that the very qualities that help a person rise — humility, empathy, collaboration — are the ones they start to lose once they sit on the throne.
The problem is compounded in healthcare, where hierarchies are deeply entrenched and reverence can often slip into servitude.
The dangerous illusion of permanence
Perhaps the most dangerous delusion of power is the illusion that it will last. It doesn’t. Every chair has an expiry date. One day you sign orders and call the shots; the next, you’re a retiree with memories and fading influence.
And when that expiry comes, it doesn’t come gently. It arrives like a mirror, showing you who you were when you had power. , and the legacy you left and how do people, patients and colleagues remember you and your tenure.
You see it in the colleagues who walk past you at a dinner without a nod. You hear it in the silence that greets your old authority. Those moments hurt — not because people are rude, but because you were, once, and now the chair is gone. All that remains is the echo of your own behavior.
Healthcare needs help, not hubris
Hospitals are not corporations. In their essence, they are spaces where the suffering come for solace, where patients — rich or poor, VIP or nameless — should receive equal care and compassion. But too often, we see preferential treatment reserved for the powerful, while the underprivileged are dismissed or delayed.
Equally troubling is the arrogance towards colleagues. Why the disdain for juniors? Why the coldness toward those we consider ‘lesser’ by title?
The white coat does not signify superiority; it represents responsibility. The respect it commands is not automatic — it must be earned through conduct, not dictated by designation.
The role of leadership in a healthcare setting is not to build a personal kingdom but to make systems work better for patients, staff, and students. It’s about making things easier, not more difficult.
To deny a fellow professional basic civility, or to sit on routine applications because they weren’t accompanied by sycophancy, is to fail not just administratively, but morally.
What will you be remembered for?
A day will come when your chair is occupied by someone else, your name is erased from the doorplate, and your number is deleted from the speed dial list. What remains then is not your title, but your legacy — the kindness you showed, the support you offered, the systems you improved, and the people you empowered.
As doctors, let us rise with humility, not haughtiness. Let us remember that this profession draws its nobility from service, not status. Let us make this Doctors’ Day not just a celebration of achievements, but a reminder of our shared humanity — that the greatest respect we will command tomorrow is shaped by the humility we practice today.
Because in the end, what truly outlives the chair is how you treated others while sitting on it.
Dr Fiaz Fazili is a senior medical professional and an author. He is a certified professional in healthcare quality, standards and reforms. He writes on healthcare, ethics and leadership.
