Medical professionals say schools have gotten too political, citing ‘unscientific modes of thinking'
"Medical students are now immersed in the notion that undertaking political advocacy is as important as learning gross anatomy, physiology, and pharmacology," the authors wrote in The Chronicle of Higher Education.
Sally Satel, a lecturer in psychiatry at Yale University School of Medicine, and Thomas S. Huddle, a professor at the University of Alabama at Birmingham's Heersink School of Medicine, cited several instances of political sentiments affecting the medical school industry.
They noted that researchers are "promoting unscientific modes of thinking about group-based disparities in health access and status."
Ucla Medical School Hit With Class-action Lawsuit For Allegedly Still Using Race-based Admissions Process
"The University of Minnesota's Center for Antiracism Research for Health Equity decrees 'structural racism as a fundamental cause of health inequities,' despite the fact that this is at best an arguable thesis, not a fact. (The center was shut down last month.) The Kaiser Family Foundation states that health differentials 'stem from broader social and economic inequities,'" the authors write.
Read On The Fox News App
Satel and Huddle pushed further by detailing an incident that occurred at the University of California, San Francisco, Medical Center. The institution not only called for a ceasefire in the Gaza war between Israel and Hamas, the authors wrote that staff chanted "intifada, intifada, long live intifada!" which "echoed into patients' rooms."
The New York Times reported last summer that the protesters at the University of California, San Francisco, chanting "intifada" consisted of medical students and doctors.
Such an incident lays out more deeply the consequences of medical schools prioritizing politics over instruction on professional imperatives, according to the authors.
"These doctors were not putting patients first — if anything, they were offending and intimidating patients. They were putting their notion of social justice first," they wrote.
The two medical professionals cite other instances where medical schools are steeped in politics, such as endorsing "racial reparations" and instituting "antiracism" training in order to qualify for a medical license in the wake of George Floyd's death.
Satel and Huddle offer medical professionals "guidelines" for how to "responsibly" meet patients' needs while leveraging their "professional standing to effect change", including advocating for policies that "directly help patients and are rooted in professional expertise while ensuring that their advocacy does not interfere with their relationships with their colleagues, students, and patients."
Medical Schools 'Skirting' Scotus Ruling Rejecting Race In Admissions: Report
Satel, a practicing psychiatrist, told Fox News Digital that she is the medical director of a methadone clinic that represents a clinical setting. In response to Fox News Digital's request for comment, Huddle said that his "academic career has been as a clinician teaching how to care for patients while caring for them."Original article source: Medical professionals say schools have gotten too political, citing 'unscientific modes of thinking'
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Boston Globe
10 hours ago
- Boston Globe
Once again, Trump sends soldiers to do police officers' jobs
Get The Gavel A weekly SCOTUS explainer newsletter by columnist Kimberly Atkins Stohr. Enter Email Sign Up It's clear that he intends to keep sending troops into American cities. But Americans can't let that become the new normal. Advertisement There ought to be bipartisan pushback. After all, Republicans used to be the first to object to federal interference in local affairs. Indeed, it should not have to be said how dangerous this is: Federalized police takeovers of cities are hallmarks of autocracies. When leaders cannot govern by democratic means, they turn to force to bend citizens to their will. And, as is often the case in backsliding democracies, they falsely claim to be acting for people's own good. Advertisement 'Our capital city has been overtaken by violent gangs and bloodthirsty criminals, roving mobs of wild youth, drugged-out maniacs, and homeless people, and we're not going to let it happen anymore,' Trump said at His words are not backed up by data. Among other things, he cited 2023 crime statistics from the city, which did experience a post-pandemic crime surge. But since then, violent crime has plummeted in the city. Even if the district really were the dystopian hellscape Trump describes, though, it is wrong to think the military could fix it. Crime is a complicated, multifaceted problem, not something that can be solved with Humvees. Trump, though, was not deterred by facts. 'I'm officially invoking Section 740 of the District of Columbia Home Rule Act, you know what that is, and placing the D.C. Metropolitan Police Department under direct federal control,' Trump said. Trump's announced plan is, at least in part, of debatable legality. Because of D.C.'s unique status as the nation's capital, the president and Congress do have powers there that they lack elsewhere. Still, the law Trump cited does not allow the president to commandeer local law enforcement in Washington, as he seemed to imply. The Home Rule Act, which established D.C.'s local government, gives the president no local law enforcement powers at all, meaning he cannot direct local police to conduct patrols, detain people, or arrest them. What the law does allow is for the president to direct the local police, under Section 740, if 'special conditions of an emergency nature exist which require the use of the Metropolitan Police force for federal purposes .' The law also caps the amount of time such emergency declaration can last to 48 hours, which can be extended to 30 days if Congress is properly notified of the action. Advertisement 'In other words,' borrow the [Washington police] for his own priorities; but he can't control how they discharge their other duties.' This is something Trump could have done, for example, on Jan. 6, 2021 during the violent siege of the US Capitol building to allow seamless coordination of local and federal law enforcement to assist Capitol Police in stemming the violence. But in that emergency, he chose not to. Something else the president has done in D.C. this week that he didn't do during the Jan. 6 attack is to mobilize the D.C. National Guard. Unlike in states, where governors direct the National Guard, the D.C. National Guard reports directly to the president, who reportedly deployed The federal government also has some powers to deploy agents from other agencies, such as the US Park Police, the Department of Homeland Security, and ICE, but the law limits some of those agency's powers based on jurisdiction and subject matter. For example, ICE agents can only conduct civil immigration enforcement, they cannot conduct an arrest for suspected carjacking or any other local criminal action, and Park Police only have jurisdiction on federal land. Whether all law enforcement officials are staying within legal and constitutional lines is yet to be determined. In California, where a trial is underway to determine if the administration violated the law with its deployment of the National Guard to Los Angeles, it will take months if not years for the matter to make its way through the courts. The same will be true with the latest gambit in D.C. Advertisement But in the meantime, the president and other administration officials have the The president is taking advantage of the fact that he can implement legally and constitutionally dubious actions before courts have time to vet and stop them. But leaders, including Republicans who have long called for limited government, should decry this and do what they can to stop this autocratic move. Whether it is part of a cynical play to the the GOP's base ahead of midterm elections, or part of a deeper plan, as outlined by the White House earlier this year to ' Editorials represent the views of the Boston Globe Editorial Board. Follow us
Boston Globe
11 hours ago
- Boston Globe
Who really suffers from Trump Derangement Syndrome?
Get The Gavel A weekly SCOTUS explainer newsletter by columnist Kimberly Atkins Stohr. Enter Email Sign Up Two decades on, Krauthammer's coinage has been appropriated, rebranded, and defined down — way down. 'Trump Derangement Syndrome' is now flung at anyone who objects to President Trump's conduct or opposes his policies. The term is no longer reserved for over-the-top expressions of revulsion — like actor Robert De Niro using a televised appearance at the Tony Awards to Advertisement No — today 'Trump Derangement Syndrome' is used as an all-purpose put-down to deride any Trump critics, including those who stick to serious, fact-based analysis. I've lost count of all the times I've been Advertisement A woman seen at the Iowa State Fairgrounds on July 3, when President Trump was speaking there. Scott Olson/Getty The word 'syndrome' notwithstanding, this is merely political trash talk, popularized by Trump and his allies as a way to wave off criticism without having to engage it. Instead of refuting arguments or defending policy, the magic letters 'TDS' turn disagreement into proof of mental defect. Yet if 'derangement' means the loss of proportion and judgment Krauthammer was getting at, then the most severe cases aren't among Trump's critics. They're in the ranks of his most ardent loyalists. The real Trump Derangement Syndrome shows up in three telltale symptoms. First is the cult-like worship that treats Trump as infallible — his acolytes profess adoration not only for what he does, but for whatever could flow from him. Emblematic of that mindset are the Advertisement Second is the abandonment of principles that once seemed non-negotiable. Conservatives and Republicans who used to champion free trade A man with a MAGA tattoo on his stomach attended a rally at Macomb Community College in Warren, Mich., to mark President Trump's 100th day in office on April 29. EMILY ELCONIN/NYT Third is the unsettling delight so many supporters take in Trump's most outrageous behavior — a kind of giddy worship that equates offensiveness with authenticity. Such brazenness has been a hallmark of his political career — from mocking John McCain's Vietnam War heroism to charging undocumented immigrants with ' Advertisement Meanwhile, they reflexively use 'TDS!' as a go-to put-down for anything from mild disagreement to serious moral critique, framing opposition not as argument but as pathology — an easy, cheap discredit. Yes, plenty of Trump-haters go overboard — but in MAGA circles, the 'TDS' tag is sprayed far wider, hitting thoughtful critics just as readily as the genuinely unhinged. What is truly alarming is how some have sought to legalize that insult by casting dissent as disease. In Minnesota this spring, five Republican senators proposed a bill that would Krauthammer's original point in 2003 was that derangement is the breakdown of proportion and prudence. That breakdown isn't found among critics who quote Trump accurately and challenge his claims. The most alarming political derangement today affects those who cannot conceive that there are legitimate reasons to be appalled by the president, and so explain anti-Trump dissent as a sign of mental weakness. If reason is the measure, then those who shout 'TDS!' the loudest are the ones most in need of treatment. Jeff Jacoby can be reached at
Boston Globe
11 hours ago
- Boston Globe
‘Is it the dying kind?'
Still, O must have sensed something was wrong. Usually calm and even-keeled, O started having sudden bursts of frenzy. His teacher, aware of my diagnosis, wasn't surprised to hear about his new behavior at home. She gently suggested that honesty — framed in a way he could understand — might help ease his anxiety. Get The Gavel A weekly SCOTUS explainer newsletter by columnist Kimberly Atkins Stohr. Enter Email Sign Up Maybe the teacher was right, but how the hell do I do that? O loves Band-Aids — maybe I could start there. He was thrilled when I showed him the ones from my chemo shots and IVs — even more so when I brought a few special ones home just for him. On the days I was pumped so full of steroids I thought I might molt, we turned the jittery energy into epic Nerf baseball games in the living room. Now that I had begun letting him into the story, O's anxious edge faded, and he settled back into himself. That gave me the courage — if you can call it that — to finally say the dreaded c-word. I slipped it into the middle of a game of Sorry! like it was just another move. I'm not sure exactly how I said it. I was nervous — the only time I'd ever felt that way talking to O — and the words came out awkwardly. I do remember that what I said didn't seem to register. 'Cancer' meant nothing to him. Mine was his first. I wondered how much of my circumstances he was absorbing. Life, at least for him, seemed to have returned to normal. Then, one night while I was tucking him in, O, who was a master at avoiding uncomfortable conversations, surprised me by asking, 'Why do you go to so many doctors now?' We talked about how, even though I looked and felt mostly fine, my body couldn't fight off bugs as well as his and that I needed a lot of doctor visits to help me get better. I asked what he thought about wearing a mask at school, especially during sick season. My shy, COVID-era kiddo — who already had used a mask as a shield — started wearing one again without hesitation. That only made me feel worse. O rarely mentioned my illness, but then one day, he told my wife about the special breakfast he was planning to make me when I was 'all done with chemo.' She softly clarified that I might never be off chemo, even if the doses get lower. 'Why?' O asked. 'To keep the cancer levels down.' 'Papa has cancer?' 'Yes, of course. You knew that.' For a moment, he said nothing. Then his face brightened with a smile feigning revelation. 'Oh yeah.' 'Do you remember what it's called?' 'Muh-muh something.' 'Multiple myeloma.' A long pause. 'Is it the dying kind of cancer?' Somewhere along the way, O had learned that cancer could mean dying. We had never talked about that part. Another longer pause. My wife, not knowing how to respond, said, 'Well, the medicine Papa's getting is working really well.' He said nothing, and for the rest of the evening he played with unusual intensity, forcing laughter — the kind that seemed meant to drown out whatever else was there. I wondered if the perfect book could help. O treasures his books. But none of the ones I could find about illness felt right. If anything, I feared they'd make him feel worse. So, in a burst of steroid-fueled arrogance, I decided to write one myself, a story where the father actually said all the right things. I rewrote obsessively, dreaming about blue whales (O loves whales) in New York City subways. Finally, I landed on a story I believed would work for him. But the magic for O was in a physical book itself — choosing one from the library, getting lost in the illustrations, finding the perfect spot for it on his shelf. I later learned, though, that it might be a year or two before the book I was writing would be published. By then, O might not even care about whales. Then again, what if O was actually doing fine? Aren't kids supposed to be resilient? Yes, he now wore a mask to school, and we couldn't go on our beloved weekend subway adventures anymore. And I could no longer be his sick buddy when he was having tough nights. But he adjusted so quickly — maybe he just thought this was normal now that he was 6. Recently, O revealed that he'd been concocting a grand imaginary scheme to trap his mom. It started with a birdcage and escalated into locking her at the top of a tall tower with no door and no stairs. Then he decided he'd give her medicine to 'make her a little sick' and might need to build a coffin in case something went wrong. 'I am not sure I like this game,' my wife said. O, who'd presented his plan with good humor and without a hint of malice, said, 'I already made a plan in my calendar.' Maybe I should hold off on reading more Brothers Grimm to him, but I suspect it's his way of working through some complex feelings. On my next designated steroid day, I started writing a new book for O based on his wild scheme. If he could go into an imaginary world to control sickness and death, so could I. Through this circus of Nerf baseball and Band-Aids and tales of whales and birdcages, I had been so focused on how I would tell O that I had lost sight of what I was actually trying to say. I wrote this piece to try and figure it out. If this were an after-school special, I'd probably realize that all I really wanted to tell him was that I love him and I just had to find the right way to do it. Or that I had more to learn from him than he did from me. That is not where this landed, though. I finally know what I've been trying to say all along, but how the hell do I tell him I'm sorry?
