Many of us have probably experienced a similar situation. We call a tradesperson to fix something around the house, and within a few minutes we almost inevitably hear: “Whoever worked here before didn’t do anything properly.” It suddenly seems as though everything the previous person did was wrong and has to be redone.
Of course, criticism is sometimes justified. Some jobs are indeed poorly executed. But just as often, this attitude seems to be almost a professional reflex. By criticizing the previous person’s work, the new tradesperson finds it easier to demonstrate their own competence.
In contrast, the tradesperson who truly inspires confidence is the one who says: “This part was done well. Here, I would have done things differently. And here, there really is a problem that needs to be fixed.” They do not feel the need to dismiss the entire job in order to prove their own skill. On the contrary, the ability to recognize what someone else has done well is often a sign of professional maturity and confidence in one’s own abilities.
A similar phenomenon can also be observed in the field of manual therapies. Sometimes, a method is promoted by criticizing all the others. Statements such as “only this technique works,” “the rest have no scientific basis,” “the others do not understand the human body,” or “only our method addresses the real cause” are not uncommon.
Perhaps the temptation to regard one’s own method as the solution to almost every problem is as old as manual therapies themselves. It is precisely this belief that lies at the heart of the myth of the universal panacea.
At first glance, such messages may sound convincing. The explanation is simple: the human mind is naturally attracted to certainty. Someone who confidently claims to have found the only correct approach often appears more credible than someone who speaks with nuance. Yet, in complex fields such as healthcare and manual therapy, absolute answers are rarely the ones closest to reality.
The human body does not operate according to a single rule, nor does it respond identically to every intervention. Pain, mobility, and recovery are influenced by numerous biomechanical, neurological, psychological, and social factors.
If the human body is this complex, is it realistic to believe that a single method can provide the answer to almost every situation?
For this reason, it is highly unlikely that any single method can represent the ideal solution for every individual and every condition.
Furthermore, many manual therapies share similar principles and objectives, even if they use different terminology or techniques. Looking at the history of this field, we can see that very few methods emerged entirely from scratch. Most have adopted, adapted, and further developed concepts that already existed. It is precisely this mutual influence that has made progress possible. Evolution did not arise from isolation, but from observation, the exchange of knowledge, and continuous refinement.
One aspect that is often overlooked is that outcomes depend not only on the method itself, but also on the person applying it. Education, experience, clinical assessment, communication skills, and the ability to adapt to each individual patient can all have a decisive influence on the success of a treatment session. An excellent technique applied superficially may produce only modest results, while an apparently simple method, used with skill and responsibility, can lead to meaningful improvements.
When a practitioner feels the need to prove the value of their own method by diminishing the value of all others, the message is no longer only about therapies. It also says something about the way that professional views their profession, their colleagues, and even the limits of their own knowledge.
Sometimes this attitude reflects a strong attachment to the method they practice or a sincere desire to promote it. At other times, it may simply be a strategy for standing out. There are also situations in which the belief that one’s own method is the only valid one arises from powerful personal experiences or from generalizing a limited number of cases.
Some practitioners have had the opportunity to study or practice several different manual therapies. Such experience is valuable and provides a broader perspective. Nevertheless, even this cannot turn personal experience into a universal truth. No matter how extensive it may be, every individual’s experience has its limits and cannot encompass the full diversity of clinical practice.
Moreover, the very same method can produce very different results depending on who applies it. Two practitioners with identical training may possess entirely different levels of understanding, palpation skills, and clinical experience. In many situations, the difference lies not in the technique, but in the practitioner.
As professionals gain experience, an interesting phenomenon often occurs: instead of becoming more dogmatic, they become more cautious. They come to understand that every method has its indications, limitations, and contexts in which it may be useful—or, conversely, insufficient. They discover that the human body is far too complex to be fully explained by a single theory.
Just as in the example of the tradesperson, genuine professional confidence is not expressed through the need to discredit the work of others. On the contrary, experienced professionals are able to recognize value even when it belongs to another school of thought or another practitioner. They promote their own method through results, sound reasoning, and professional conduct—not by diminishing the merits of others.
The same principle also applies to the method each of us practices. No matter how much we appreciate it or how many positive results we achieve with it, it is only natural to recognize its limitations. No therapy is suitable for every condition, every individual, or every clinical situation. Acknowledging these limitations is not a sign of weakness, but of professional maturity.
Saying that all therapies deserve respect does not mean that every claim made about them is automatically true. Respect for colleagues and for other therapeutic schools does not exclude critical thinking. On the contrary, a mature profession asks questions, seeks evidence, and is willing to revise its own beliefs when new knowledge becomes available.
It is entirely appropriate to critically evaluate any method and to ask for evidence supporting its claims. However, there is an important difference between saying, “At present, there is insufficient evidence to support this claim,” and declaring, “All other therapies are a fraud,” or “Only my method works.”
Beyond the competition between methods, the person who ultimately has the most to lose is the patient. When every therapist insists that only their own approach is correct, those seeking help can easily become confused. Instead of finding a professional environment built on collaboration and mutual respect, they encounter conflict and professional rivalry. As a result, trust—so essential to any therapeutic relationship—may begin to erode.
Just as a homeowner wants a skilled tradesperson rather than one who criticizes everything they see, patients are looking first and foremost for a professional who can help them. They do not come to a clinic to discover which therapist is right in a dispute between schools or methods. They come because they have a problem and hope to find a solution.
In therapy, the value of a method does not increase by dismissing all the others. It grows when, applied with competence, responsibility, and respect for the patient, it genuinely helps people.
Perhaps the true “universal panacea” is not a particular method, but the attitude of the professional: competence, humility, continuous learning, and respect for the person standing before them.
