Uncovering the true ethical role of medical brigades

Last year, I participated in my first medical brigade.

Our large, stark white bus pulled into the compound, its bright blue sign reading “Medical Brigade.” As the gates opened and we stepped off, the space—reminiscent of a public school—had been transformed into a makeshift medical clinic for the day and the week ahead. I took my first steps off the bus, and as I looked up, my heart sank.

Dozens of families were standing there, waiting in the hot sun for a group of heroic doctors to finally arrive and offer the medical care they’d long deserved.

Women, men, and children squinting in the sunlight, met our eyes and began clapping as they noticed our matching scrubs. With each clap, I saw the glow in the faces of the undergraduate students around me—savouring the feeling of heroism that comes with being perceived as a “doctor.”

Yet, for me, each clap felt like a slap in the face, guilt swelling inside me. I knew these families were genuinely grateful for our arrival. After years without adequate care, a group of health professionals had finally come to help. But I also knew that, of the 50 of us who stepped off that bus, only two were trained doctors. The rest of us carried a sense of undeserved self-righteousness.

The question remains around whether this act of righteousness genuinely benefits the communities involved. Some argue it could potentially cause more harm than good.

Medical brigades, or short-term medical missions (STMM), are temporary care stations organized by institutions that bring together volunteer students and health professionals to provide free or low-cost healthcare to equity deserving communities. Many organizations worldwide implement these missions, claiming to address the social, economic, and environmental disparities these communities face.

The true beneficiaries of these brigades depend on perspective. While this work might seem like a win-win, it’s worth questioning who truly benefits the most.

On one hand, medical brigades have often been seen in recent decades as experiences designed to benefit the visiting students, particularly those coming from privileged backgrounds. Critics argue such programs solely offer these students a chance to enhance their resumes, setting themselves apart within the pre-med herd.

It’s important to highlight these students don’t completely lack empathy for the communities they serve—in fact, I believe the experience profoundly impacts many student volunteers.

Despite the language barrier, I connected with children and families in ways I never expected, forming bonds that felt stronger than words. Some might attribute it to the lack of distractions like service and Wi-Fi, but it was more than that. It was one of the first times in my life I encountered people who were truly kind, full of hope, and overflowing with love. This love was unlike anything I had ever experienced before—unmeasurable and profound. In the midst of families losing loved ones and working tirelessly for just a single U.S. dollar after weeks of labour, they still showed an overwhelming amount of care and concern for others. Their compassion, despite their hardships, left a lasting impression on me.

Though, as I flew back home, like many, that feeling faded. The life-changing impact I held so close to my heart soon dissipated.

For some, the trip became something to write about for future applications, while for others this became a seed to fuel something bigger.

In the beginning, this seed ignited a new awareness within me, revealing that our efforts were insufficient. It’s not enough to enter communities for a brief period—a single trip cannot reverse centuries of neglect. For example, we encountered many children with strands of white hair, signs of vitamin B12, vitamin D3, and calcium deficiencies.

Additionally, numerous children exhibited stunted growth due to malnutrition. I highlighted to the local doctor while a prescription for daily vitamins could temporarily address these issues, it ultimately leaves families in the same predicament they faced before. He acknowledged my concerns, emphasizing that was all they could do at the moment.

After speaking with brigade coordinators and community stakeholders, it became clear this work, while imperfect, is better than nothing.

Many rural communities in countries like Greece, Guatemala, and Honduras lack the infrastructure for regular medical care, and poverty forces them to prioritize basic necessities like food and housing over health. Medical brigades offer a rare opportunity for families to receive comprehensive checkups, potentially identifying diseases that might otherwise go undiagnosed.

Before my experience, I worried brigades may even exacerbate long-term problems by fostering dependency on external aid and stunting the growth of local healthcare systems. However, as brigade coordinator and local Guatemalan resident, Diego Hernández-León, explained to me, this concern doesn’t apply in all cases.

In communities where even basic items like soap are scarce, brigades supply such items as part of their outreach. Dependency on brigades for essentials like soap is not the real issue—the lack of national distribution systems and economic access is.

“Communities aren’t producing soap,” Diego told me. “If they could buy it from supermarkets, they would. But right now, only the wealthy can afford it. The alternative is nothing.”

Diego continued, “If brigades didn’t come, these people would simply not receive care. There’s no recognition from the government for medical help in rural areas. At the rate we’re going, I don’t believe Guatemala will develop a healthcare system that truly cares for its people in my lifetime.”

While medical brigades cannot solve deep-rooted issues, they’re currently one of the only sources of health care that many communities can afford.

The brigade program I worked with for three years and counting, continues to challenge ethical concerns by using resources to educate on preventive tactics, addressing mental health and safe sex, and involving community doctors whom I’ve seen give money from their wallets to help patients receive medical aid.

As brigade planning president I choose to move forward, with the aim to curate interventions specific to each community’s struggles, educating myself on their culture, people, and customs before entering and volunteering, allowing me to shift the mindset of future volunteers.

Medical brigades cannot be easily classified as purely right or purely wrong. They spark advocacy for rural communities neglected by governments for decades. For some students, they offer more than just a resume boost—they ignite a passion for change.

In my own experience, the second brigade I participated in left me not with pride, but with disgust, anxiety, and embarrassment, due to my preconceived idea that I was some sort of saviour. But perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.

These feelings planted a seed within me—a desire to do more, to advocate for real change.

“This seed offers two paths,” Diego told me. “You can continue down the first path, feeling like a saviour, holding onto a hero complex. Or you can choose the second path—the one that forces you to change your mindset, to search for more meaningful ways to advocate for these communities.”

Armed with this mindset, I aim to cultivate a community of future brigade volunteers who understand the complexity of healthcare disparities and are willing to engage in meaningful, long-term solutions.

Ultimately, the real impact of medical brigades lies not in the temporary care provided, but in how we leverage our experiences to foster sustainable change. As we shift our focus from short-term fixes to long-term solutions, we begin to break the cycle of dependency and empower communities to take control of their future health. True advocacy means committing to the work beyond the brigades—holding ourselves accountable, and striving to be part of a larger movement for equity and justice in global health.

As I prepare for my next brigade, I carry with me the faces of families and children with whom I’ve met, lessons learned and the responsibility to advocate for those I intend to meet, not just during our brief encounters but throughout my career. This is where the true journey begins, and I am grateful to be part of it.

Tags

Ethics, med school, medical brigades, Student life

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