I don't trust doctors. It's not to say there ain't some good

Hear the grizzled voice of Keith Richards, a man who has wandered through fire and excess, who has seen both the brilliance and the frailty of human systems: “I don’t trust doctors. It’s not to say there ain’t some good ones, but on a general level, no, I wouldn’t trust ’em at all.” At first, his words seem rebellious, the cry of a rock-and-roll soul weary of authority. Yet beneath the defiance lies an ancient caution: that those who claim to hold the keys of healing are not beyond error, and that trust in them must be tempered with wisdom and discernment.

The meaning of this quote is not a total rejection of medicine, but a warning about blind faith. Richards admits that there are indeed good doctors, yet he reminds us that doctors are human—flawed, fallible, sometimes driven by profit or pride rather than compassion. His mistrust reflects the truth that institutions, however noble in appearance, are shaped by imperfect men and women. To rely entirely upon them without question is to risk disappointment or even harm. In this way, his words become not only a statement of personal skepticism, but also a broader lesson on the limits of human authority.

The origin of his distrust is no mystery. Richards, guitarist of the Rolling Stones, lived a life steeped in excess—alcohol, drugs, and rebellion against every form of convention. Doctors, for him, were often not healers but judges, sometimes standing as stern voices warning him against the very life he chose. His mistrust was forged in the clash between his untamed spirit and the cold authority of medicine. Yet from that clash emerges a truth recognized by all who have suffered: doctors, though skilled, cannot always guarantee health, nor can they always be counted upon to act purely for the good of the patient.

History itself provides ample testimony to his suspicion. In the Middle Ages, physicians swore by bloodletting and humors, often causing more harm than healing. In the 19th century, “doctors” peddled tonics of mercury and opium, leaving patients addicted or poisoned. Even in the modern age, scandals like the Tuskegee experiments remind us that medicine can be corrupted by ambition, greed, or prejudice. Richards’ words echo the wisdom learned in blood: do not surrender your life wholly into another’s hands, even if they wear the mantle of healer.

Yet we must not dismiss the light amid the shadows. Medicine has saved countless lives—vaccines have eradicated plagues, surgeons have healed wounds once fatal, and compassionate physicians have brought comfort to the suffering. Richards himself concedes that “there are some good ones.” Thus, the lesson is balance: trust must be earned, not given blindly. The healer must prove himself through compassion and integrity, not merely credentials or reputation.

The deeper truth of his words applies not only to doctors, but to every authority in life. Leaders, teachers, preachers—all may carry wisdom, but none are beyond error. To live wisely is to respect their knowledge while also guarding one’s own judgment. Blind trust leads to enslavement; careful discernment leads to freedom. In this way, Richards’ rebellious tone transforms into a counsel of prudence: walk neither in cynicism nor in blind faith, but in thoughtful vigilance.

Therefore, let the teaching be this: do not give your trust lightly, even to those who claim the highest knowledge. Question, discern, and guard your own soul. Seek healers, yes, but seek also wisdom for yourself, that you may know when to follow and when to refuse. Honor the good, reject the corrupt, and remember always that health of body and spirit cannot be entrusted entirely to others—it must also be tended within. For in the end, the greatest physician of life is not man, but the truth, and the soul that clings to it will endure.