Attention and concentration in a world of AI

Medicine needs cultures that value depth as well as speed, reflection as well as responsiveness

As doctors, we rarely work on one thing at a time. We download blood results while answering emails. We prepare clinics while replying to messages. We complete documentation between consultations. Much of this feels normal. Efficient, even. But there is a problem at the centre of modern medicine. Our attention is fragmented.

Healthcare demands deep concentration while creating environments that undermine it. We are expected to make careful decisions, avoid errors, supervise trainees, absorb new evidence, maintain empathy, and manage growing administrative workloads. All at speed. All at once.

The result is not simply tiredness. It is cognitive overload.

Psychology has long shown that multitasking is less effective than we imagine. Humans do not truly perform several complex mental tasks simultaneously. Instead, we switch rapidly between them. Each interruption carries a cognitive cost. Attention drifts. Accuracy falls. Mental fatigue grows.

In medicine, this matters. Clinical work depends on attention: A subtle physical sign, a brief hesitation in conversation, a change in tone. Small details matter enormously. Psychiatry perhaps illustrates this especially clearly. Listening carefully is not an optional extra. Often, it is the diagnostic process itself.

Attention matters, but it is becoming harder to sustain. Electronic systems have brought major benefits: Faster communication, safer prescribing, and better access to information. But they also contribute to a culture of constant responsiveness. Emails, alerts, messaging platforms, and online meetings create an environment in which we are always available and always interruptible. This changes how work feels.

Many doctors now feel that we process tasks more than practise medicine. The day becomes organised around replying, updating, documenting, forwarding, and clearing inboxes. Reflection shrinks. Quiet thinking disappears.

Patients recognise when our attention is partial, even if we remain courteous and competent. Feeling unheard remains one of the commonest causes of dissatisfaction in healthcare.

Doctors suffer too. Constant interruption creates a persistent sense of incompletion. Many of us finish the day feeling busy throughout, but deeply focused on very little. Work spills into evenings. Attention remains scattered. Over time, this contributes to exhaustion and burnout.

The wider culture reinforces these pressures. Rapid replies are increasingly interpreted as professionalism. Busyness can become a badge of importance. Modern technology gives us instant access to information, but often at the cost of uninterrupted thought. Medicine is not immune.

There is irony here. Healthcare understands attention scientifically better than ever before. We know about cognition, distraction, fatigue, and stress. Yet many healthcare systems are designed in ways that make sustained concentration remarkably difficult.

None of this means rejecting technology or longing for some idealised past. Earlier eras of medicine had their own inefficiencies and frustrations. Electronic systems have improved patient care in many important ways.

The challenge is balance. Healthcare systems need to recognise attention as a limited and valuable clinical resource. Not every message requires an immediate reply. Not every issue needs another notification. Protected time for focused clinical work and reflective thinking is not indulgent. It is necessary.

Small changes help. Some clinicians block periods for uninterrupted work. Others reduce notifications or create clearer boundaries around email outside working hours. Simple habits matter.

Cultures matter too. In some workplaces, constant interruption is quietly normalised and even admired. The person who replies instantly, attends every meeting, and remains permanently available can be seen as especially committed. But availability is not the same as attentiveness.

Medicine needs cultures that value depth as well as speed, reflection as well as responsiveness, and presence as well as productivity. Junior doctors especially learn not only from what we say, but from how we work. If distraction becomes normalised, sustained attention risks becoming an endangered clinical skill.

In medicine, attention is not merely cognitive. It is relational, clinical, and ethical. Patients experience careful attention not only as competence, but as care itself.

In an era of artificial intelligence, our attention matters more than ever.

Prof Brendan Kelly is Professor of Psychiatry at Trinity College Dublin and author of Buddhism and Psychiatry: Moving Beyond Mindfulness in Mental Health Care (Open access: https://link.springer.com/book/10.1007/978-3-031-96045-1).