In Channel 4’s new documentary, The Great ADHD Myth?, psychiatrist Max Pemberton seeks to determine whether it’s ‘a genuine neurodevelopmental disorder, or a social construct.’
Having spent the five years since my own diagnosis fielding similar bad faith questions — and given Pemberton has previously suggested that ADHD could be a ‘wildly overdiagnosed’ ‘fad’ — the resulting answer didn’t come as a shock.
Despite claiming to take a ‘science-led approach’, the show appeared to use the same carefully-chosen sceptics and cherry-picked evidence as every other so-called investigation into the ‘rise’ of neurodiversity.
It’s all pretty inflammatory.
One of the experts featured called medication prescribed to treat ADHD ‘slow-release cocaine’ (as someone who’s taken both, I can confirm that’s complete nonsense), while others said it was ‘worse’ than corporal punishment or likened it to chemical castration.
What felt especially unique about the documentary though, is how it merged these provocative statements with elements of truth, latching their central thesis onto legitimate concerns about everything from big pharma to ultra-processed foods to smartphone addiction.
Personally, I’m inclined to trust the World Health Organization, the NHS and NICE in their classifications of ADHD as a lifelong neurodevelopmental disorder.
But let’s for a minute assume Max Pemberton and co are correct and it is in fact a product of modern society — when people are suffering, who’s helped by proving that point?
The thread that runs through the hour-long show is an experiment where a 10-year-old boy with ADHD, Mason, is taken off his meds in favour of daily yoga, woodland walks, diet changes and screen time limits.
During the four-week trial, we’re told he’d become ‘more fun’ and ‘a proper character’.
When his teacher reports that the year 6 pupil is struggling to concentrate or regulate his emotions during lessons, and was ‘easier to teach’ while medicated, it’s labelled as an ‘educational issue’.
At the end, Mason whoops with joy as his mum Shauna decides to keep him off the drugs for a longer period to avoid ‘dulling his sparkle to suit everyone else’.
It’s not until the credits roll that we find out he’s back on them after doing poorly in his exams.
In Pemberton’s view, this experiment (with the smallest possible sample size of one) raised some ‘profound philosophical and moral questions’ about neurodiversity.
In mine, it’s a clear example of the real world harms that can come from constantly questioning its very existence.
Ex-GP Iona Heath said on the show that if she was in charge, she’d ‘ban the label ADHD, straight off.’
‘I would stop medicating this group of people, then I would absolutely want to overhaul the education system for children to include many more creative activities and sporting activities,’ she added.
‘I think that would reveal an untapped reservoir of talent that we are currently drugging out of existence.’
Cool. If I could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles, everyone would eat it and be happy.
Until we build that utopia, Mason has to follow a set curriculum alongside the 30-odd other kids in his class in order to get the qualifications he needs to be a functioning member of society.
And I, along with the millions of adults with ADHD who work in offices, have to sit at a desk and concentrate for eight hours a day to earn a living.
It’s not that I don’t agree with any of the points raised in the documentary around how modernity and diagnoses seem to go hand in hand. In fact, I’m a firm believer that in another time, or even a less rigid class system, the hyperfocus and creativity of neurodivergence would be seen as assets rather than problems.
I’m sure our collective need for instant gratification isn’t helping the symptoms of ADHD either, and we could all benefit from touching a little more grass, eating a little less sugar, and spending a lot less time doomscrolling.
The reality of life today, though, is that we rely on phones to do most things, from taxes to communicating with loved ones, working long hours at increasingly insecure jobs, often in built-up areas.
If you want to get by in a world where productivity is king, you need to conform to a certain extent. For those of us with ADHD, medication is the most accessible way to do that.
Perhaps, as Pemberton concludes, it is ‘dystopian’ to medicate children (albeit with drugs that have been safely used for decades) and to medicalise ‘normal’ behaviour instead of changing the society that deems it otherwise.
What scares me more is that research shows someone with diagnosed ADHD has a seven to nine-year lower life expectancy, not to mention a higher risk of substance abuse issues, unemployment and even suicide.
That is the reality we are doing our best to deal with in the here and now. Thinking that arguing the semantics of our condition or demonising medication many of us find life-changing will help improve our situation would be the biggest myth of all.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk.
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