Experience has taught me to check every piece of evidence before drawing conclusions.
Channel 4's The Great ADHD Myth? left me uneasy for that reason.
There are legitimate questions to ask about ADHD. Are some people being diagnosed too readily? Is the private assessment market properly regulated? Are children sometimes medicated when other interventions should be explored first? And have schools, workplaces and wider society become too quick to expect people to fit a narrow definition of how they should behave?
Those are serious questions.
Serious questions demand proper balance.
The Great ADHD Myth? leaned hard towards one conclusion. The programme suggested an ADHD 'industry' now exists, that professionals doubt diagnoses, and that medication is handed out too easily.
The programme barely examined the evidence on the other side.
In Suffolk, many spend months on ADHD assessments and specialist appointments. The TV version does not match their reality.
A £1,200 private assessment is not the NHS experience
Dr Max Pemberton, an NHS psychiatrist, journalist and presenter, underwent a private ADHD assessment himself as part of the documentary.
According to reports about the programme, the assessment cost £1,200. A doctor diagnosed him with combined ADHD and subsequently prescribed medication.
The speed with which that happened was clearly designed to raise questions.
And it should.
If some private providers are diagnosing people inadequately or prescribing medication too readily, that is something regulators and journalists should investigate thoroughly.
But most NHS patients do not have that experience.
NHS guidance states that diagnosing ADHD requires specialists to assess symptoms, developmental history, and the impact of those symptoms on a person's life. NICE guidance covers detailed requirements for diagnosis and medication management.
Here in Suffolk, healthcare providers do not simply hand over ADHD medicines without oversight.
Current NHS Norfolk and Suffolk guidance states that ADHD medication must be started and overseen by an ADHD specialist. Even when a GP prescribes under a shared-care plan, monitoring and specialist reviews are still part of the process.
Questioning private diagnosis standards is not the same as questioning whether ADHD exists.
The programme blurred that line.
Many families will recognise this.
Questioning ADHD is fair. Stacking the deck is not.
One of the documentary’s standout contributors was Dr Iona Heath. She is a former president of the Royal College of General Practitioners. Dr Heath questioned whether ADHD should be seen as a medical condition at all.
Other contributors raised similarly fundamental doubts about diagnosis, medication and the influence of the pharmaceutical industry.
They have the right to make those arguments.
Indeed, television should challenge accepted thinking.
The programme missed voices explaining why clinicians recognise ADHD, what evidence supports diagnosis, and why stimulant medication helps some. It ignored the impact of untreated ADHD on education, work, and daily life.
Dissenting views appeared, but the editorial direction was clear.
Calling ADHD behaviours personality traits ignores why many grew up labelled lazy, disruptive, or careless.
We have seen something similar with autism and dyslexia.
Recognising a condition does not mean society invented it.
Often, it means we finally see what was always there.
The experiment with a 10-year-old proved surprisingly little
The most troubling section followed 10-year-old Mason.
The documentary tracked him for six weeks after he stopped his ADHD meds. He made lifestyle changes, like cutting screen time, spending more time outside, doing yoga, and changing his diet.
His family reported positive changes. He appeared happier and more like himself.
That matters. Medication has side effects, and if a child feels that medication fundamentally changes who they are, clinicians and parents should listen.
But what did the documentary actually show about ADHD?
Very little.
Several people changed many variables simultaneously.
Screen use changed.
Diet changed.
Activities changed.
Exercise changed.
Family routines changed.
And, inevitably, the amount of focused attention that the child received changed too.
Remove screens, plan outdoor activities, and encourage family time together. It’s no surprise if behaviour and relationships improve.
That does not show which change caused the improvement.
It does not prove the original ADHD diagnosis was wrong.
A troubling piece of evidence emerged in the programme. Reports showed that Mason became harder to manage at school. He had greater difficulty concentrating and more disruptive behaviour after stopping his medication.
That evidence deserved as much scrutiny as the positive changes at home.
A six-week TV experiment with one child cannot settle a decades-long scientific debate.
Yet some will take it as proof.
The medication experiment raised more questions than it answered
Pemberton also tried the medication that his doctor had prescribed following his diagnosis.
The idea seemed simple: if ADHD medication works differently for people with ADHD, what would it do to him?
Again, this was not a controlled experiment.
One person taking medication briefly tells us nothing about whether ADHD medication works for those diagnosed.
Medication usually involves titration. This means slowly adjusting the drug dose while checking for effectiveness and side effects.
NICE guidance specifically recommends that a specialist start medication, considering its benefits and harms while monitoring its effects over time.
That clinical reality does not make dramatic television.
But it matters.
My own experience could hardly have been more different.
I got my ADHD diagnosis later in life. The whole process, from filling out forms to the assessment and finally getting medication, took almost two years.
Nothing about it was quick or casual.
This does not prove all ADHD assessments are thorough or that private sector problems do not exist. But it shows how different the TV experience is from what most people face when seeking assessment and treatment.
Having gone through the process, I found it misleading to see a £1,200 private assessment lead straight to diagnosis and prescription. That raises bigger questions about ADHD. The debate is worth having.
The frustration with The Great ADHD Myth? is that beneath the provocation sits a conversation Britain needs.
We need to ask if private ADHD assessments are consistently rigorous.
We need to ask if families get enough support before and after diagnosis.
We should ask whether schools set their expectations of children's behaviour too narrowly.
We need to discuss screen time, sleep, exercise, diet, and the environments children grow up in.
No child or adult should get powerful medication without proper assessment, informed discussion, and monitoring.
Even strong supporters of ADHD diagnosis should agree.
There is a real debate about whether medication fills gaps left by overcrowded schools, poor mental health support, long NHS waits, and workplaces that fail to support difference.
Those questions are far more interesting than the question of whether ADHD is simply a "myth".
The Suffolk reality is far less simple.
The debate also comes at an interesting time locally.
ADHD services in Suffolk tell a different story. Local NHS rules tightly control prescribing. Easy access to medication does not exist here.
NHS guidance for Norfolk and Suffolk requires specialist oversight for ADHD medication. Some Suffolk GP practices have handed prescribing back to specialists because of the monitoring involved.
Commissioners gave the local adult ADHD service responsibility for assessments and supporting those on medication.
That does not mean the system is perfect.
Far from it.
But it shows why one private TV assessment cannot represent everyone seeking an ADHD diagnosis.
Challenge the system, but examine all the evidence.
I did not object to The Great ADHD Myth? for questioning ADHD. My objection was different.
Journalism should question things.
Medicine should question itself.
Patients should question their treatment.
And if someone is overdiagnosing ADHD anywhere, we should know about it.
The programme started with a hypothesis and gathered evidence mainly to back it up. That troubled me.
That is not the same as starting with a question and following the evidence.
Channel 4 said the programme aimed to explore if ADHD is a real neurodevelopmental disorder or a social construct.
That question carries real consequences.
It deserved a rigorous examination.
I finished the programme knowing more about ADHD sceptics than about the science behind diagnosis and treatment.
For an issue affecting children, adults and families across Suffolk and the rest of the country, that imbalance matters.
By all means investigate ADHD diagnosis.
Investigate private clinics.
Investigate pharmaceutical companies.
Investigate prescribing.
Investigate whether children are spending too much time staring at screens and whether our schools sufficiently accommodate different kinds of minds.
But investigate the other side with equal rigour.
If you are going to call something The Great ADHD Myth?, that question mark should mean you genuinely haven't decided on the answer before the programme begins.