We Applaud, They Die

People are dying in systems that congratulate themselves.
We applaud awareness.
We reward good intentions.
We publish
numbers that look reassuring.
And still, people die.
Not outside the system — inside it.
This is not a failure of kindness. It is a failure of honesty. We talk about mental health constantly, yet refuse to confront what is not working. Services expand. Access improves. Language becomes careful and correct. And outcomes remain brutal.
Many who die by suicide were already in treatment. They were diagnosed. Monitored. Compliant. They did what was asked of them. If that does not disturb us, we are already numb.
We do not truly understand the brain. Not in any deep or reliable way. We speak as if we do, but much of mental suffering remains unexplained. When uncertainty is hidden behind routine, people vanish inside it.
This is not an attack on individuals working in mental health. It is a refusal to protect systems from criticism when lives are at stake. Care can harden into process. Curiosity can be replaced by compliance. And help can quietly become containment.
Below are seven realities — uncomfortable, necessary, and long overdue.
1. Awareness Without Change Is Performance
We have perfected the language of concern. Campaigns are polished. Messages are safe. But awareness that does not lead to structural change becomes theatre. Applause replaces accountability.
When institutions congratulate themselves while outcomes worsen, something is fundamentally wrong.
2. Many Who Die Were Already "Helped"
This is the truth that should end complacency. A significant number of people who die by suicide were already receiving care. This does not mean treatment is meaningless — but it does mean it often fails to reach what actually hurts.
Being seen is not the same as being understood.
3. Young Men Are Being Missed
Young men rarely collapse in visible ways. They withdraw. They go quiet. They numb themselves. They are told to talk — but are often met with frameworks that do not fit their experience.
Silence is mistaken for stability. Withdrawal for resilience.
4. We Overestimate Our Knowledge of the Mind
The brain is not a mechanical system. Diagnoses describe patterns, not causes. Protocols organise effort, not understanding.
Certainty may feel professional, but humility is what keeps people human.
5. Routine Can Become a Form of Neglect
Familiar methods are repeated because they are known, not because they work. Over time, attention fades. Presence is replaced by procedure.
What began as care becomes management.
6. Competence Is Uneven — and That Has Consequences
Not everyone working in mental health is equally equipped to help. Denying this protects systems, not people. Mediocrity survives. Depth is rare. And those who need more are given less.
Lives are not case studies.
7. Be Kind
Not performatively.
Not casually.
Deliberately.
Because kindness interrupts isolation. Because it reminds someone — briefly, sometimes just barely — that they matter.
Ending
This is not a comfortable piece to read. It is not meant to be.
If we continue to applaud ourselves while people die, then our language is not compassionate — it is dishonest.
People are dying in systems that congratulate themselves.
Before we end here, remember this: be kind.
It
may help someone more than you realise.
Be good — and have a meaningful 2026.
Best wishes,
Raymond and Ken
