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Britain dances to Strictly while doctors strike and the NHS slips quietly out of sight

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Britain dances on while doctors strike, and the NHS slips quietly out of sight
Britain dances on while doctors strike, and the NHS slips quietly out of sight. Picture: LBC/Alamy
Chad Teixeira

By Chad Teixeira

Britain is dancing while its doctors walk out, and most of us don’t even realise we’re being asked to look the other way.

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As sequins fall and sofas fill this weekend, NHS doctors will begin a five day strike over pay, conditions and the long term viability of the health service across the country.

The contrast feels jarring, but only if you stop to notice it. For many, it passes unnoticed entirely, as instead we’re cushioned by familiar voices, warm laughter and the soft reassurance that this is what a nation at Christmas is supposed to look like.

There is nothing wrong with escapism. In difficult times, it can feel essential and be hugely welcomed. Yet when celebration consistently dominates the national mood while essential public services quietly unravel, escapism becomes something else.

It becomes a form of insulation, and especially when it’s not chosen consciously by the public, but delivered expertly through editorial decision-making that shapes what feels urgent and what fades into the background.

Industrial action in the NHS struggles to hold sustained attention because it does not translate easily into modern media. It is slow, unresolved and emotionally demanding.

It asks audiences to sit with discomfort, to watch and listen to exhausted young doctors carrying enormous debt, watching their real-terms pay collapse while workloads intensify and staff disappear.

There is no neat ending to that story, and it’s an uncomfortable image to be confronted with.

Entertainment offers the opposite. It provides warmth without responsibility and emotion without cost whilst being safe, predictable and perfectly packaged for collective consumption.

When faced with a choice between holding national attention on structural failure or offering temporary relief, the system almost always defaults to the latter.

Even doing so quietly, efficiently, and without announcing that a choice has been made at all so it never feels like we’ve consciously turned away from the difficult in favour of the more palatable.

Language does much of the work here. Resident doctors are framed as participants in a “dispute”, as though this were a minor workplace disagreement rather than a warning signal from the future of the health service as it reaches breaking point.

Phrases like “winter pressures” and “NHS strain” soften what is, when in reality it’s chronic deterioration and a crisis. These words don’t inform, instead they soothe as they teach us to expect less, to worry less, and ultimately to feel less.

Over time, this framing reshapes public empathy. Crisis becomes climate. Breakdown becomes background. And because the decline is gradual and even polite, it never quite earns the emotional response it demands.

The public is not indifferent, but they are being gently guided away from sustained discomfort, and told implicitly that this is too complex, too repetitive and too draining to hold for long.

This week exposes something unsettling about Britain. We are still capable of sharing feelings, but only when it is easy and contained. We gather for glittering finales and festive sofas because they ask nothing of us beyond attention. Structural failure asks more and begs us for patience amid anger and moral clarity, so it is quietly deprioritised.

If the NHS were collapsing in one dramatic moment, it would dominate every screen.

But it is failing incrementally, through understaffing, attrition and exhaustion.

That makes it easier to miss, easier to live with and easier to postpone until later.

The real danger is not that Britain enjoys being distracted. It is that we rarely see the distraction happening at all. And while the music plays, the cost is being absorbed by a generation of doctors holding together a system that no longer holds them.

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Chad Teixeira is a seasoned media commentator and communications strategist covering culture, business, identity and the stories shaping modern brands.

LBC Opinion provides a platform for diverse opinions on current affairs and matters of public interest.

The views expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official LBC position.

To contact us email opinion@lbc.co.uk