Some illnesses automatically trigger society’s instinct for compassion. Cancer is the clearest example. The moment the word is spoken, the room falls silent, people rally and the immediate question becomes: how can we help?
Depression, by contrast, is still perceived differently. Less as a medical condition and more as a vague emotional state. Sometimes even as a poor personal choice, a character flaw or something one should simply “snap out of.”
This gap is not accidental. It stems from the way humans understand disease. Cancer is tangible. A tumor can be seen on imaging; a damaged organ can be identified; biomarkers can be measured in blood tests. In advanced stages, there are visible physical signs, there is a defined treatment protocol, and in some cases, there is even a moment that marks recovery. The narrative is simple: the patient fights, wins or loses.
Depression, on the other hand, operates in a territory that society finds much harder to face. It resides in the brain, an organ we cannot directly measure, the very organ that generates consciousness itself. There is no scan that clearly shows depression. No laboratory test that can definitively declare its presence. There are symptoms, subjective experiences and functional decline. And this is far less comfortable for the public to process.
But the greater difficulty goes further. Depression challenges the cultural belief that individuals are fully in control of themselves, that we have “agency.” It presents a reality in which a person wants to get out of bed and cannot. Wants to feel joy and is unable to. Wants to function, yet the biological system does not cooperate.
This is threatening because it undermines the narrative of willpower, discipline and personal strength. It is far easier to empathize with a body injured from the outside than with a brain that is breaking down from within.
There is also a difference in how society imagines the future. A cancer patient is seen as a fighter who may return to “normal life.” A potential survivor. A person with depression is often perceived as permanently damaged, unstable and unpredictable. Even when this perception is false, it creates distance. Empathy is replaced by caution. Compassion gives way to fear.
The irony is that depression is among the most destructive illnesses in terms of quality of life. It dismantles relationships, erodes daily functioning, impairs the ability to work, love, sleep and plan for the future. At times, it is also fatal. Not always immediately, but over time. And yet it does not receive the same public legitimacy as severe physical illnesses.
Part of this problem lies in language and semantics. Cancer is described in clear medical terms. Depression is described using emotional language. Sadness, weakness, emptiness and mental exhaustion. These are words that invite moral judgment. They lead people to believe this is a mood rather than a complex biological condition.
In reality, research shows that depression involves profound disruptions in neuronal communication, chemical pathways and brain regulation systems. This is physiology. No less real than heart disease or diabetes.
Stigma creates a cruel cycle. People feel ashamed to seek help. They postpone treatment. They continue functioning outwardly while collapsing inwardly. The environment sees a functioning person and concludes there is no real problem. And so, depression remains hidden. Unseen. Undiscussed. Untreated.
There is also a collective responsibility here. Healthcare systems, media and broader culture have trained us to view mental health as secondary. Fewer resources. Less funding. Less visibility. Less respect. All of this seeps into collective consciousness.
The paradox is that as the world becomes more technologically advanced, mental health disorders are becoming more prevalent. Society has conquered infectious diseases, extended life expectancy and improved material living conditions. At the same time, it has created an environment of chronic stress, loneliness, cognitive overload and emotional instability. Depression is not a marginal malfunction. It is a byproduct of a complex modern reality.
Perhaps the next stage of social evolution requires changing the moral hierarchy between the body and mind. Recognizing that a sick brain is no less real than a diseased heart. That suffering is not measured only through X-rays and lab results. That getting out of bed in the morning can be a biological achievement, not merely a matter of character.
The day of depression receives the same public legitimacy as cancer, the same compassion, the same willingness to listen without judgment, the same collective mobilization; a profound shift will occur. Not only for patients themselves, but for the way society understands what it means to be human.
- The author is co-founder and chief strategy officer at NeuroKaire.