When Public Health England (PHE) warned of a growing syphilis and gonorrhea crisis this week, the report initially seemed like the stern wake-up call needed to help the thousands of people around Britain currently unable to access sexual health services.
Revealing a 20% increase in cases of syphilis in just one year and a 22% rise in those of gonorrhea, the report promised “new numbers and frequency of tests in populations at higher risk of infection, to promote early detection and treatment”.
And action is vital. Local authority funding for sexual health services is at an all-time low (cut by £64m in the four years to 2017), six key London clinics were closed, and regional clinics are now facing their own cull, leaving some patients to travel 25 miles or more to seek help.
But then came the twist. “Sexually transmitted infections pose serious consequences to health,” Gwenda Hughes, head of STI surveillance at PHE, told the Times (paywall). “It is likely to be a result of condomless sex. We’ve got these apps and they enable people to find partners much more quickly.”
Apps, people. Damn those apps. If only you wouldn’t go online and make a connection, you could keep yourself clean of sexually transmitted diseases once and for all. If only you would, instead, embark on a long, chaste courtship and wait to make love to the partner you were to marry, you’d never find yourself struggling with syphilis, gonorrhea, or unwittingly passing an undiagnosed STI to your baby when pregnant. Right?
Dating apps don’t cause STIs – lack of testing, poor education and a reluctance to use condoms do – which, by the way, is actively encouraged by some dating apps. The Inner Circle gives away Hanx condoms at its events. Grindr, which sends alerts reminding users to get tested for HIV, is in the process of exploring ways in which users can share their STI status.
Sure, responsible businesses can help us lead healthier lives – but when government cuts are the real issue, why mention the apps at all? Technology can never replace clinical services, and a throwaway remark that insinuates apps are partly responsible for the rise in STIs lets the real villains off the hook.
Young people may be having less sex than previous generations and waiting longer before they start, but it’s those aged 16 to 24, BAME individuals and men who have sex with men that are at the greatest risk of infection (hence Grindr’s efforts).
Condom use is indeed down – while condom prices themselves rise. In fact, PHE admits that schemes to distribute condoms to young people only reach about 6% of those targeted. Yet clinics and education services that could get the message across about condom use and the importance of regular testing are ground down by year-on-year budget cuts.
We know that more testing and greater condom distribution will keep more people safe. What we don’t know is where the money will come from. Despite the Department of Health’s own research showing that for every £1 spent on sexual health services, including contraception, the public purse saves £11, the government has so far not been forthcoming.
This report is clear – we are facing a sexual health crisis. But let’s identify who is really culpable: a government with a cavalier and prudish attitude to our health, not a few million people on the digital quest for fun or – perish the thought – love.
• Nichi Hodgson is the author of The Curious History of Dating: From Jane Austen to Tinder, and a sex and relationships broadcaster
