I don’t think ADHD should be protected from scrutiny. We should absolutely examine the quality of assessments, ask whether people are receiving appropriate treatment and challenge failures in both private and NHS services.
But I am angry because Channel 4’s documentary The Great ADHD Myth? placed the legitimacy of ADHD itself back in the dock. And that’s not right.
The programme asked whether ADHD is genuinely a neurodevelopmental condition or merely a social construct – a response to smartphones, ultra-processed food, rigid schools and modern lifestyles. It also questioned whether children should be given medication to manage their difficulties.
Those might sound like reasonable questions. But framing matters. When a programme asks millions of viewers whether a recognised condition might be a “myth”, the resulting doubt does not remain safely inside a television debate. It follows people into their homes, schools, workplaces, doctors’ surgeries and relationships.
As a women’s wellbeing coach specialising in ADHD and autism, I work with people who have spent years, or decades, trying to understand why everyday life seems to demand so much more from them than it does from others. Many women reach adulthood believing they are lazy, disorganised, oversensitive, unreliable or simply “not trying hard enough”. They may have been treated for anxiety, depression or low self-esteem without anybody recognising the neurodevelopmental differences underneath.
This is not just my professional observation. NICE explicitly warns that ADHD is under-recognised in girls and women. They are less likely to be referred for an assessment, more likely to remain undiagnosed and more likely to be given an incorrect diagnosis of another condition.
Autistic women face similar barriers. Masking can make their differences less visible, while ADHD and autism can also occur together. These women do not need another reason to doubt themselves. They certainly do not need friends, relatives, employers or health professionals asking whether their condition exists at all.
ADHD is not beyond question, but it is not a myth. It is recognised by the NHS, NICE, the World Health Organisation and major professional medical bodies.
The 2021 World Federation of ADHD International Consensus Statement brought together 208 evidence-based conclusions, endorsed by 80 authors from 27 countries. It concluded that ADHD is a valid diagnosis associated with measurable difficulties and significant risks when it is not properly supported.
There is not a single brain scan or blood test that can diagnose ADHD in an individual, but that does not mean ADHD has no biological basis. Many medical and mental-health conditions are diagnosed through a careful clinical assessment rather than one definitive laboratory test.
As experts responding through the Science Media Centre explained, the documentary appeared to blur these two very different claims: that no individual brain scan can currently diagnose ADHD, and that ADHD therefore does not exist in the brain or body. The second conclusion does not follow from the first.
There are legitimate concerns, and we should discuss them properly. The increase in referrals and diagnoses deserves thoughtful investigation. So do long waiting lists, inconsistent assessment standards, the cost of private care and the safe prescribing and monitoring of medication.
A proper ADHD assessment should be comprehensive. NICE says it should include a full clinical and psychosocial assessment, developmental and psychiatric history, evidence of impairment in different settings, and consideration of other possible or co-occurring conditions. A diagnosis should never rest on a questionnaire alone.
If an assessment is rushed or inadequate, that is a serious problem. But a poor assessment for a real condition does not make the condition imaginary.
The Royal College of Psychiatrists made this distinction clearly in its response to the documentary. It acknowledged that rising diagnoses and waiting lists need to be understood and that poor-quality assessments and misdiagnosis must be addressed. It also said the evidence suggests ADHD remains under-recognised, underdiagnosed and undertreated in the UK.
Its central message was that our attention should be on assessment quality, personalised care and access to support, not on invalidating an established condition. That is the nuanced conversation we should be having.
Environment and neurodevelopment are not opposing explanations. I agree that many schools, workplaces and social expectations are poorly designed for neurodivergent people.
More movement, time outdoors, creative activity, supportive relationships, appropriate nutrition, reduced stress and fewer overwhelming demands may improve wellbeing.
What’s more, reasonable adjustments can be transformative. Coaching, therapy, practical strategies and community support can all play valuable roles. But environmental support and recognition of ADHD are not mutually exclusive.
We do not have to deny somebody’s neurodevelopmental condition to argue that their environment should accommodate them better. In fact, recognising ADHD can be precisely what enables a person to understand and change that environment.
Medication should never be presented as the only answer, nor should it be prescribed casually. It should form part of an individualised treatment plan and be discussed with an appropriately qualified clinician. For some people it is not suitable or helpful. For others, it can be life-changing.
The answer is informed choice, not fear. Even one of the programme’s contributors objected: Professor Katya Rubia, a cognitive neuroscientist who appeared in the programme, subsequently said that her contribution had been selectively edited and that her views were misrepresented. She argued that the programme’s treatment of one child’s medication break could not provide meaningful scientific evidence because several parts of his lifestyle changed at the same time.
Channel 4 rejected her criticism and maintained that her interview had been represented fairly. It also said the documentary did not deny people’s lived experiences and was intended to stimulate debate about diagnosis, medication and the effect of modern life.
That response deserves to be acknowledged. Broadcasters should be free to investigate difficult subjects, and no area of healthcare should be exempt from scrutiny.
But editorial freedom does not remove the responsibility to consider harm, especially when questioning a condition already surrounded by misunderstanding and stigma.
My anger is rooted in what this does to people. When you call ADHD a possible myth, someone who has spent years building the courage to request an assessment may decide not to ask:
- A parent may begin to distrust a child’s diagnosis
- Or a woman who has finally found an explanation for decades of overwhelm may return to believing that her difficulties are a personal failure
- An employer may become less willing to provide adjustments
- A partner may say, “See? I knew it wasn’t real.”
- A person taking prescribed medication may feel pressured to stop without medical support
This is why language matters. ADHD UK described the programme as creating a false equivalence between a small number of contrary opinions and a substantial body of scientific evidence. The charity’s post-broadcast response also noted that the child featured in the programme eventually restarted his medication and his schoolwork improved, an important detail reportedly shown only in the end credits. ADHD UK has submitted a complaint to Ofcom.
ADHD Embrace warned that the programme could increase public scepticism, marginalise the condition and deepen the isolation felt by families. These are not objections to open discussion, but calls for discussion that is proportionate, evidence-led and conscious of its real-world consequences.
Instead of asking whether ADHD exists, let us ask:
- Why are women and girls still being missed?
- Why do people wait years for an NHS assessment?
- How can we improve consistency and safety across both NHS and private services?
- How can schools and workplaces become genuinely neuroinclusive?
- How do we give people meaningful choices, including medication, coaching, psychological support, practical adjustments and lifestyle changes?
- How do we recognise ADHD and autism without reducing a whole person to a label?
Those are difficult, worthwhile questions. “Is ADHD a myth?” is not one of them. My anger comes from seeing how hard neurodivergent people already work to be believed. I’ve listened to so many women who have blamed themselves for years. I know that recognition can replace shame with understanding, and careless public debate can push people straight back into that shame.
ADHD is real. The need for careful assessment is strong. There are real shortcomings in our services. The value of supportive environments can be transformational. All of these truths can be held at once. The existence of millions of people’s condition should not be turned into provocative entertainment.