A Reflection on Medical Leadership, System Ownership, and Educational Responsibility

The Hidden Leadership Crisis in Medicine

Medicine is widely regarded as one of the most noble and trusted professions. Doctors spend more than a decade in rigorous training, mastering human anatomy, pathology, pharmacology, diagnostics, and patient care. Their days are long. The stakes are high. Their commitment is commendable.

However, behind this deep and technical preparation lies a lesser-known reality. Most doctors are trained to follow systems, not to build them. They are taught to be precise, not positional. They are conditioned to comply with protocol, not to challenge or redesign it.

Yet, whether we acknowledge it or not, medicine is an industry. It is a system made up of funding, regulation, distribution, investment, pricing, and public policy. Across Southeast Asia, private hospitals are expanding rapidly. Regenerative clinics, health-tech platforms, and premium diagnostics are booming. Medical tourism is accelerating. Wellness centers with luxurious treatment packages continue to draw interest from local and foreign clientele.

Strikingly, the people shaping this system are rarely doctors. They are business owners, marketers, investors, and executives. They speak the language of scale, capital, and market access. In most cases, they determine the direction of medicine without necessarily understanding its soul.

This is not just a professional issue. It is a leadership vacuum. That vacuum is quietly defining who gets care, what kind of care they receive, and who benefits from it.

The Pill That Promised Everything, Until It Did Not

I was once told, like many children growing up in traditional Asian households, that if I studied hard enough, I might become a doctor. That was the aspiration. It was considered a career of honor, respect, and security.

Years later, I found myself observing the medical field not from within but from the side. I did so as a parent, a son, an educator, and a leader. The deeper I looked, the more contradictions I noticed.

Several months ago, my father introduced me to a traditional herbal pill that was said to cure nearly every condition. It was expensive and came with glowing testimonies from friends and relatives. He believed in its effectiveness because he had taken it for a toothache. According to him, not only did his toothache subside, but his back pain was alleviated as well. He gave the same pill to my children when they had coughs or fevers. It was, to him, a cure-all.

One day, I experienced a severe headache. Following his encouragement, I tried the pill myself. Within hours, I developed a strong allergic reaction. My condition deteriorated to the point where I almost required emergency treatment at the hospital.

That experience was not just a physical reaction. It became a metaphor. It made me reflect on how easy it is to believe in something that appears to work for someone else, without understanding the underlying mechanism or potential risk. It also made me question how we evaluate credibility. Just because a solution is popular or marketed well does not mean it is responsible or safe.

Shortly after that, I began to observe the broader medical wellness industry. I noticed a disturbing trend. The loudest claims about stem cells, anti-aging treatments, and regenerative therapies were not coming from doctors. They were coming from businessmen. Their advertisements targeted insecurities and desires. Their sales strategies were aggressive. Yet, they rarely involved peer-reviewed studies or medically recognized frameworks. Some made unverifiable or medically exaggerated promises. Their claims were dressed in language that sounded scientific, but lacked clinical backing.

What unsettled me most was not just the false advertising. It was the silence of the medical professionals. The same professionals who had spent years studying evidence-based medicine now stood quietly at the side while others dictated the narrative.

This realization troubled me. It raised a deeper question: if doctors do not learn to lead and communicate with authority in the marketplace, who will shape the public’s understanding of health?

Reclaiming Medicine From the Outside In

In other professions, the lines between practice and influence are becoming more fluid. Architects are co-creating smart cities. Lawyers structure deals for tech startups. Educators are launching ed-tech platforms. In these fields, more professionals are stepping into leadership and systems-building roles. They do not do so to abandon their domain, but to protect and advance it.

So why not doctors?

The answer is both simple and complex. Medical school teaches diagnosis, precision, and protocol. These are essential and life-saving skills. However, it rarely teaches system dynamics, stakeholder alignment, capital flows, innovation strategy, or policy navigation.

Yet these are the skills that determine who gets access to care. They shape the hospital’s design, the drug’s pricing, the patient’s waiting time, and the sustainability of medical careers.

In Malaysia, for example, the public healthcare system is under increasing pressure. Private hospitals are growing rapidly, not just as care providers but as investment vehicles. Medical tourism is prioritized because it brings in foreign exchange. New healthtech startups are emerging, yet few are led by clinicians. These trends raise concerns about long-term equity, quality, and integrity in the system.

Institutions like UCSI University offer a glimpse into what a better model might look like. By placing a hospital beside a university, they create a feedback loop between real-time care and academic research. This integration allows doctors not only to practice but also to innovate and collect data. It also opens the door for medical students to see beyond the exam hall. They begin to understand operations, funding, compliance, and impact.

I believe this model must go further. Every medical student should be equipped with foundational knowledge of business, leadership, and social entrepreneurship. This is not to turn them into businesspeople, but to prevent them from becoming system outsiders in their own profession.

Doctors should not be forced to choose between healing and leading. They can do both.

From Expert to Architect: The Doctor’s Next Mission

When I reflect on this topic, I do not come as a doctor myself. I come as an educator. More specifically, an edupreneur.

I do not use this term lightly. I call myself an edupreneur because I did not start out in business. I started out in education, with a vision to build meaningful, values-driven learning environments. However, I quickly realized that if I did not learn to speak the language of business, others would. Not all of them would carry the same purpose.

That realization changed my life. It forced me to learn how to think in terms of sustainability, growth, and stewardship. It also helped me understand that money, when used with integrity, is not a threat to education. It is a means to protect it.

Today, I believe the same applies to medicine. If doctors do not learn how to design systems, manage resources, and influence decision-makers, they will be led by those who do. When that happens, they risk becoming skilled employees in a system that no longer reflects their values.

Not all doctors need to start hospitals. Not all need to become CEOs. But every doctor should understand how the system functions. They should know where they can influence it with clarity and conscience.

Imagine what could happen if more doctors were trained to speak both languages. The language of care and the language of capital. Imagine if the next wave of healthcare innovation was led by people who understood both the science and the soul of medicine.

This is not just a vision. It is a necessity.

The Reverse That Redefines It All

The opposite of healing is not harming.

It is surrendering the system to people who do not care to heal.

Doctors are not leaving medicine.

They are returning to lead it.