I often think about a skit from the early 2000s comedy ‘late-night’ show, The Micallef Program. In one episode, Shaun Micallef introduces a fourteen year-old girl to read out an uncomfortably earnest open letter to John Howard, the Prime Minister of the time, that had recently been published in a national newspaper.
“Dear Mr Howard,” the girl begins, without irony and with the earnest, clumsy reading voice you probably had when reading Macbeth in front of your Year 10 class at school, “I believe you are doing a wonderful job governing this great country of ours, all of us as Australians belong under the one flag, under the one multicultural voice. We live in a beautiful land, full of rich rewards, from Uluru… to Reynella. We are, as one, sharing a common bond, which is the Spirit of Australia. But let us not forget that part of our vision for the future of this great country of ours is the dreams of the children. We, all of us, as the youth of Australia, have a voice that must be heard by all Australians across this,” (here, she looks directly into the camera), “great brown land of ours.”
At this point, Micallef, the silhouette of whom can be seen in the background, projectile vomits all over the stage.
The girl, seeming not to notice, continues, “so, Mr Howard, when you make your decisions about our forests and our mines and our future, remember that we, the youth of Australia, are the future.”
I have, with a mixture of fascination and disgust, been watching a lot of medical TikToks recently. To abuse an oft-used phrase, it’s like witnessing a car accident unfold. Horrified, ultimately you can’t bring yourself to look away.
My interaction with TikTok is sparse and filtered by what bleeds through to other platforms like Twitter and Instagram. Self-appointed ‘TikTok anthropologist’ @coldhealing made their name on Twitter by reposting a continually updated anthology of both cringe content. A moodboard for civilisation in 2023. His rise to notoriety rode on the back of some successful tweets containing TikToks of 20-somethings going about their day, working in what anthropologist David Graeber would call ‘bullshit jobs’. In these videos, newly graduated, attractive, unapologetically oversharing employees at large tech or consultancy firms would document their day-to-day - sometimes down to the minute. The TikToks would often be called ‘A day in the life of a 23 year old living in Chicago’ or ‘My day working at Deloitte as a 25 year-old new grad’, with half the video depicting company-provided buffet meals, bottomless snack cabinets and as many were keen to point out: very little actual work. Either a psy-op by the companies themselves in some sort of subversive recruitment campaign, or pure aspirational content on the behalf of the creators, these TikToks were as much viewed as they were maligned. Later @coldhealing curated content also examines the condition of contemporary youth culture, particularly in America, with handpicked treats depicting and sometimes juxtaposing total self-unawareness and obsessive self-consciousness.
I was recently made aware of a new page on Instagram, performing the noble archiving duties of the very worst of medical TikTok: @doctorofinfluencing. As the name suggests, the primary focus is on doctors and (doctor-adjacent professionals) who exist on the fine line between total sincerity and farce. There are of course the ‘day in the life of’ videos, portraying working in a hospital or attending medical school as an inescapable-grind-that’s-also-a-privilege-so-feel-blessed-everyday and containing a disproportionate number of matcha lattes. Similarly, there are many ‘I proved them wrong’ style videos, of how their ‘grindset’ mentality got them not just through medical school, but top of their class, and then into competitive ‘residency’ programs. The most reviled are the sickeningly earnest clips such as one that was doing the rounds where a clinician (her role is unclear), has filmed herself in a supposed moment of grief after a patient has died. Text is superimposed onto a clip of her head in her hands, leaning on a wall, exhausted from the pain of the moment: ‘Lost a patient today / “Shake of [sic] off, you have 5 more hours”’. This one really did the rounds on Twitter recently. Punters rightly questioned how the TikToker had the foresight to set up a camera in the throes of such emotion. The ethical question of profiting (financially or through social media clout) from the misfortune of others (i.e. patients), also came up. Similarly, a short reel of a surgeon (?) scrubbing in at the sink with overlaying text: ‘POV: when you learn that the patient on your operating table was a drunk driver who just killed both parents of a 5 year girl [sic]. But he is still your patient…’ I think @doctorofinfluencing put it best in their comment: ‘Sorry babe watch stays ON when I scrub into my made up case’. His Apple Watch is seen still fastened to his wrist.
It is easy to judge and deride these TikTokers (TikDoctors?) immediately, and you’d probably be right to do so. If you’re like me (and judging by the overwhelming response, that’s a lot of you), you probably spat your tea out watching these.
But it’s worth taking a step back and considering why our visceral reaction to these clips is one of almost implosive cringe. More so than the usual TikTok documenting the day-to-day of a do-nothing influencer.
Firstly, the vast majority of these TikToks come out of the US. Is this by pure chance? Or by population advantage? Or to do with differences in our perceptions of self and self-worth? As one follower astutely pointed out, the way we feel about these TikToks (at least in Australia, sorry to my international friends), is probably to do with a disconnect between the culture of American exceptionalism and the Australian ‘tall-poppy syndrome’. Our national identity is largely built on self-derision and celebrating our red-neck, convict roots. There are precious few cultural media representations of the triumphant, heroic Australian. Instead, our cultural heroes are Kath & Kim, Dame Edna, and Brendan Fevola. The country prides itself on pure egalitarianism (within an increasingly ruthless capitalist framework), and doing the best we can, under the circumstances. Don’t try too hard, mate, you’ll look like a brown nose.
Compare this to the United States of the Roland Emmerich blockbuster. Between national landmarks being blown up, or presidents being annihilated by aliens, the American flag waves proudly in the distance. Freedom, above all else, is the central tenet of their society. The freedom for the individual to strive and meet exceptional achievements and reward. The problem, of course, is this is ultimately a lie and as inequality grows in Western society so too does the limited potential of those of ever less fortunate socioeconomic standing. Nonetheless, at least how we see it across the pond, the patriotic and exceptionalist mindset still thrives in the exported cultural media: including TikTok.
If they aren’t already outright self-glorifying, then these TikToks are the worst kind of humble-brag. There is such a thin line between the concepts of ‘my job is so hard’ and ‘my job is the most important in the world’ woven in the subtext of most of these cursed videos. Sure, most doctors have an incredibly inflated sense of self-worth. As do most in the caring professions, especially those with areas of expertise that have the ability to create real and tangible change on the worst day of someone’s life. But most of us have the good sense to keep it to ourselves. The constant need for these TikTok performers to say out loud what need not be said or enact some performative grief for social clout on the internet is the real reason we can’t bear to watch (but watch anyway). It is as if the ‘cringe’ part of their brain does not exist, and with the magic of modern technology, there is now no filter between their narcissistic impulses and the outside world.
A large number of viewers also take issue with the co-opting of patient’s deaths for the promotion of the clinician’s own social credit. For instance, in one TikTok, a medical student shares a video of her smoothie recipe while talking about the privilege she has had ‘sitting with people at the end of their life and talking about the things that mattered most to them’. I’m sure featuring in a TikTok was in their top 10. It’s a jarring disconnect listening to something so morbid and profound, while watching frozen berries being blitzed in a Nutribullet. It’s a bit like if Neville Chamberlain announced war with Germany while making pancakes. Ultimately, the medical student is not wrong to reflect and internalise these experiences, however it is at both times amusing and shocking how these are trivialised by the implied impact this has on her breakfast-making routine. At the end of her video she says, ‘This has inspired me to be… grateful for my body, and for the things it allows me to do’ as she smiles to the camera and takes a sip from the smoothie.
I’ll tell you who’s probably not grateful for their body right now.
In the end, I am reminded of the Micallef sketch outlined in the beginning of this article, and of the vomit that cascades out of his mouth. A reaction that is never explained, which the viewer is left to read as a wholly instinctual and understandable reaction to the tear-jerking earnestness of the girl reading her letter. It is a sick I feel rising within me more and more often thanks to the viral availability of this cringespirational content.
And if you feel that sick rising within yourself just remember: ‘Shake of [sic] off, you have 5 more hours to go’.
Love the article and 100% agree with the message. I think the inclusion of the tiktoks wherein a person (usually a woman) is celebrating gaining the Dr title over "Miss" or "Mrs" warrants a bit more analysis. I feel like there's a historical context that's generally not considered, but I understand that it's a nuanced situation within the larger issue aka genuinely horrifying medical narcissism!!
Always a pleasure to read. Thanks for putting into words what so many of us feel.