Abstract
Quiet quitting is a concept that you might not have heard of. It refers, in its simplest sense, to opting out of tasks beyond assigned duties and/or being less invested in work. 1 It’s a post-pandemic phenomenon and isn’t at all confined to healthcare. But you can see that if healthcare professionals become quiet quitters, how this might adversely affect delivery of care and therefore patient wellbeing.
The response seems to be one of focusing on Maslow’s hierarchy of human needs. First come the basic needs of reduced workload and workplace safety. Next is the psychological support of the wellbeing and mental health of staff. Third is the fulfilment offered by career development, professional autonomy, and pursuing professional interests. All of these lend themselves to workplace-based organisation-level interventions. Interventions for burnout, for example, tend to be more helpful when directed at organisations rather than at individuals.
The challenge, however, is a complex one. Health professionals are overworked. Almost all, even those that are strictest in working to their contracted hours, do unpaid overtime. Some add many hours of unpaid overtime each week just to meet their patients’ needs and to feel reassured that they have offered the best possible care. When it comes to the arguments of staffing, pay, and productivity in the NHS, this unpaid overtime isn’t considered. If the data were available how much worse would the staffing crisis look?
Complexity and turbulence are everywhere. We find them in the ongoing struggles to reduce the disproportionate impact of malaria and neglected tropical diseases on children and adolescents; 2 in the persistent struggle to deliver Alzheimer’s treatments; 3 and in the urgent global responsibility to confront psychiatric abuses and defend ethical principles. 4 The question now is how can we pull back from despair, burnout, and quiet quitting, to be motivated to quietly and loudly respond to the overwhelming threats to health and wellbeing that confront us?