If data is worth collecting, then surely it is worth collecting properly. As a scientist I’d argue that unreliable data is worse than no data at all. At least if there is nothing recorded, then there is nothing to mislead. On one of the most basic categories of all – sex – it seems that official records are all over the place.
According to Sullivan’s review, ‘gender’ – whatever that is – started to replace sex in the 1990s
Readers of The Spectator are probably well aware of the issues already, but Professor Alice Sullivan – Head of Research at the UCL Social Research Institute – has led a review into the mess that society has found itself in. Previously, in these pages, she discussed the impact of dodgy data in the 2021 Census. The outworkings highlighted in her review – published yesterday by the government – are serious on an individual level.
Sullivan’s review found that across the NHS, ‘gender identity is constantly prioritised over or replaces sex’. As a result, patients have not been called for the cervical smear tests or prostrate exams that they need to protect their health. Lab results have been misinterpreted, and cancer referrals have been missed.
This affects me personally. After transitioning in 2012, my GP changed my ‘gender marker’. One click in a drop-down box and the surgery listed me as female. The immediate concern was the checking-in device that the surgery had installed in the waiting room. Patients were interrogated on arrival about their sex and birthday to match us with our appointments. In my case, it seemed, their biggest worry was that I might be outed by the choices on the touchscreen. In retrospect, I’d rather she had prioritised my health.
My drop-down sex-change in my GP’s database did not necessarily cascade within the NHS. One referral to my local hospital was refused without explanation – computer said no. After staring at the screen together, I suggested that she changed my sex back to male, because my existing records at the hospital probably still said male. As soon as the records matched, the computer was happy. Shortly afterwards I was given a new NHS number, presumably so I could start again with an F-marker in all places.
The problem is, of course, that I am not an F. I will always need the prostate check rather than the smear test. I have become adept in navigating the confusion that now surrounds my medical history, but I worry about missing something. I’m also bothered about my records missing everything that happened under the old number. It’s a mess. Yes, it is partly of my making, but had I known the consequences, I would have insisted that I could carry on pressing the male button on the touchscreen.
According to Sullivan’s review, ‘gender’ – whatever that is – started to replace sex in the 1990s, but in the last ten years, ‘robust and accurate data on biological sex has been lost’. During that recent period, the transgender demographic has changed. Alongside the middle-aged men who suddenly decided that they needed to transition, there have been increasing numbers of youngsters being referred to gender clinics, sometimes with co-existing serious mental health issues. How are they expected to cope with a system that is happy to change their gender but lose their sex?
The consequences extend far beyond the health service. Police records, prison service files, and data held by schools and universities have all been compromised by allowing individuals to choose whether M or F or perhaps something else goes in the box. Or perhaps someone else chooses? One shocking example uncovered by Sullivan involved a baby, just a few weeks old. A paediatrician reported that,
She [the mother] had gone to the GP and requested a change of gender/NHS number when the baby was a few weeks old and the GP had complied. Children’s social care did not perceive this as a child protection issue.
Perhaps, in these strange times, they think it’s unkind to tell the truth? True kindness is being honest. Yes, someone might not like the trappings and expectations associated with their sex. But they can be free of those things without disrupting their medical records in the process. Doctors need facts rather than fictions when determining courses of treatment.
The fact remains that we all have a sex, and that sex matters far beyond the mechanics of our reproductive systems. Before birth, two clear developmental pathways emerge that have a profound impact on our physiology and psychology. At birth, our sex is observed and recorded. That piece of data matters and it is a travesty that facts are being obscured by feelings.
Sullivan’s review needs to be read, and action needs to be taken. It’s not hard. Sex recorded at birth? Male or female. Tick the box; move on.
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