The Deck Chairs of Chiropractic
While we argue about being “evidence-based,” the world is waking up to something far more powerful.
There’s a leadership vacuum in our profession. The big seminars—like the Parkers of the world—aren’t chiropractic gatherings anymore; they’ve become massive physiotherapy expos with slick lighting and shiny devices.
I get it. They’re in business to make a profit. And those massive budgets from the physiotherapy manufacturers and orthotic companies are hard to turn down. But let’s call it what it is: when you take their money, you start dancing to their tune.
Now the continuing education classes have to justify the gadgets and gizmos being sold down the hall. Less and less time is spent on what makes us unique—on chiropractic itself.
I used to love going to chiropractic seminars and conventions. I’d walk the booths, see the vendors, and laugh about how at Life University or the old Dynamic Essentials events, the vendor hall was always pretty bare—maybe a website guy, some supplement sellers, and a pillow booth or two. Back then, I thought it was thin. Now I see it was pure.
Because here’s the truth: once you make these events dependent on corporate dollars, those dollars start dictating what you can talk about. And someone decided that chiropractic philosophy—the heartbeat of our profession—would only count toward a tiny part of our CE credits.
Meanwhile, while we’re busy trying to look more “evidence-based,” the world is going the other direction. People are craving connection, coherence, wholeness. The conversation everywhere—from neuroscience to performance to wellness—is moving toward a vitalistic model. It’s like we’re arguing over who has the best deck chair on the Titanic as the ship is sinking, while the tide outside is clearly turning toward innate, adaptability, and human potential.
It’s time to stop apologizing for being chiropractors. It’s time to take our profession back—from the trade-show floor to the philosophical foundation that built it.