Why doctors strike: a matter of survival

Ever been so tired you forgot your own name? I remember a junior doctor on strike in London who told me exactly that. Thirty-six hours awake, stumbling into the children’s ward, staring at a prescription pad. “I couldn’t even remember my own name,” he said, “let alone the right antibiotic dose.”

That was not about wages. That was about survival, his and the children’s.

Yet the story always gets told the same way: doctors striking for perks, doctors looking after themselves. The accusation comes quickly. Selfish. Privileged. Out of touch.

But that’s not what I have seen.

India: colleagues beaten unconscious in their own emergency rooms. Can you imagine trying to keep practicing under those conditions? South Korea: training stretched so thin that young physicians were dangerous before they even began. Kenya: children dying for lack of oxygen, while administrators insisted the system was “functioning.” None of this is about perks. It is about whether medicine can still be practiced at all.

And here is the part that hurts. Every doctor carries two responsibilities. The patient in front of you now, and the patients who will walk through the door tomorrow. When the hospital is short-staffed, when you have not slept in two days, when you are told to cut corners to save money. You cannot serve both. Keep going and you become part of the harm. Stop and you feel like a traitor. Which is worse? I have seen that question hollow people out.

Striking is not a clever strategy. It feels like walking into fire. Patients may not understand. Governments call you betrayer. Colleagues split: Some mutter about oaths, others whisper they wish they had the courage. And the punishment is real. Investigations. Suspensions. A permanent stain on a career. I have known doctors who never fully recovered from the cost of speaking out.

So why do it? Why take that weight?

Because the work was never for us. It was for the patient. Always for the patient. To step away is not abandonment. It is witness. It is saying: This system has grown so unsafe that to keep working is to harm the very people we swore to protect.

Medicine cannot survive as just another business deal. Patients are not line items. And when physicians put their careers, their reputations, and their futures on the line, it is not to guard privilege. It is to keep the profession itself alive, so that tomorrow’s patients still have something left to trust.

Doctors do not strike for themselves. They strike because sometimes refusal is the last honest act left. Because stopping is the only way left to remain faithful.

Patrick Hudson is a retired plastic and hand surgeon, former psychotherapist, and author. Trained at Westminster Hospital Medical School in London, he practiced for decades in both the U.K. and the U.S. before shifting his focus from surgical procedures to emotional repair—supporting physicians in navigating the hidden costs of their work and the quiet ways medicine reshapes identity. Patrick is board-certified in both surgery and coaching, a Fellow of the American College of Surgeons and the National Anger Management Association, and holds advanced degrees in counseling, liberal arts, and health care ethics.

Through his national coaching practice, CoachingforPhysicians.com, which he founded, Patrick provides 1:1 coaching and physician leadership training for doctors navigating complex personal and professional landscapes. He works with clinicians seeking clarity, renewal, and deeper connection in their professional lives. His focus includes leadership development and emotional intelligence for physicians who often find themselves in leadership roles they never planned for.

Patrick is the author of the Coaching for Physicians series, including:

He also writes under CFP Press, a small imprint he founded for reflective writing in medicine. To view his full catalog, visit his Amazon author page.