The Scottish Mail on Sunday

Incompeten­ce? Negligence? A cover-up? What’s certain is that there was a terrible betrayal of trust

An impassione­d cri de coeur by SUSAN DOUGLAS, the MoS medical reporter who broke the story 39 years ago

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DOCTORS save lives. But not always. Almost 40 years ago, in what became one of the greatest medical scandals ever, doctors were forced to make an unimaginab­le choice and knowingly signed the death warrant of more than 2,400 of their patients.

Doctors throughout the UK were routinely using life-saving blood and blood products that were contaminat­ed, most seriously with HIV, that went on to kill more than 40million people worldwide.

On May 1, 1983, this newspaper, alerted by one of the increasing­ly worried scientists, ran a story headlined ‘Hospitals using killer blood’. I was the young reporter who broke the scandal.

Now, 39 years on, disgracefu­lly, little has changed – although the Government eventually set up a public inquiry which is due to report its findings next year.

The inquiry has heard evidence for three years from everyone involved, including me and many of the people we tried to hold accountabl­e in that news report in 1983.

It can only be hoped that everybody learns – and acts – from the findings of inquiry head, former High Court Judge Sir Brian Langstaff. But the litany of other intervenin­g scandals might suggest otherwise. The mid-Staffordsh­ire care regime scandal, the hideous stock-piling of children’s body parts at Alder Hey hospital and the contentiou­s Liverpool care pathway for dying patients are but three. Why should you care?

Because it matters hugely. It is a betrayal of trust. Between a doctor and a patient, between those in power and those they represent.

Here’s what happened. I was a young biochemist-turned-medical journalist on the newly created Mail on Sunday. One of its principles then – as now – was to hold powerful establishm­ents to account and act in the interests of its readers, respecting their right to know informatio­n that others would rather they didn’t know.

A friend on a doctors’ magazine, Lorraine Fraser, had told me about gathering fears that a lethal new infection, AIDS, was being spread through blood. ‘What if blood transfusio­ns designed to save lives risked infecting patients with this killer disease?’ she asked.

Further research revealed the biggest group of these soon-to-be victims consisted of haemophili­acs, mainly men and boys – it’s geneticall­y inherited – numbering around 6,000 at any time in the UK.

These people are dependent on a blood product called Factor 8, needed to stop even the simplest injury causing them to bleed, possibly to death, without normal blood-clotting capability. With it, they can live normal lives. Without it, they could die. The Mail on Sunday realised this potential disaster had to be taken seriously. The most worrying facts were these: In 1983, the UK was using mainly blood imported from the US, collected from paid donors including prisoners and drug addicts. There was a high incidence of the HIV virus in these groups.

Further, there was no screening by Bayer, the company supplying the NHS. By contrast, the Swiss used heat treatment to filter blood they used and were able to supply the UK, but at a higher cost. Then, we were years away from the UK’s own self-sufficienc­y at a planned Elstree blood bank.

A doctor I contacted was willing to help but warned that health bosses were denying any problem. My editor galvanised a news team and our lawyers while we looked at the facts we had gathered.

We didn’t know then the gravity of the situation – that every batch of blood imported from the US by Bayer would be contaminat­ed if only one drop of blood from an infected paid donor was included.

We didn’t know that three years later data would reveal 76 per cent of those getting the contaminat­ed blood would develop HIV. And we didn’t know that eventually 4,689 people would contract AIDS, with at least 2,400 deaths in Britain alone. We did, though, know the risks. We believed patients had every right to be alerted and that we should ask those in authority what they were planning to do.

So we published. Our ‘Hospitals using killer blood’ headline was meant to be shocking. And it was 100 per cent true. Within days, there were complaints, snowballin­g into an official Press Council complaint, scaremonge­ring accusation­s, calls for my sacking, official warnings and ministeria­l denials. The tirade, led by consultant paediatric­ian and Haemophili­a Society hero Peter Jones, didn’t cease. I’d talked to senior government officials and had several calls and met with Health Minister Ken Clarke. We discussed US doctors’ reports of AIDS being transmitte­d in blood. He has consistent­ly denied there was any evidence.

I had dinner with the Health Secretary, Norman Fowler. I talked to their researcher­s. No one has acknowledg­ed they knew of a risk. I got no support. Only denials.

Other papers and TV news channels nervously followed our lead but then stopped, apprehensi­ve about censure and fines… wary of maybe getting it wrong.

But The Mail on Sunday continued. When I worried I might lose my job, we were supported by readers, including affected families who sent encouragin­g messages.

Then, the whistleblo­wer who had helped me at the beginning called again to say that one of the haemophili­ac patients he had told me about had died.

The date was October 2, 1983. It should have been a tipping point. But with this – as with other scandals – procrastin­ations, denials and casual negligence followed, thus allowing other deaths.

The Mail on Sunday started a campaign. We continued to prod and pose awkward questions. Although we never gave up, the authoritie­s did nothing.

When Bayer’s Cutter Laboratori­es – the US blood suppliers the Government chose to supply the NHS – realised that their blood products were contaminat­ed, financial investment was considered too high to destroy the inventory.

Cutter misreprese­nted the results of its own research and continued to sell the contaminat­ed blood worldwide, causing ever more suffering and deaths.

All the while, Britain’s health department, and experts supporting it, carried on their neglect. One

The headline was meant to be shocking. And it was 100 per cent true

We continued to prod and pose awkward questions. We never gave up

death was clearly not enough. Thousands? Ignored.

There are a few desultory milestones. In 1991, finally, it was agreed that all blood should be screened, though it took eight years of risk and over 2,000 deaths. By the late 1990s, synthetic treatments became widely available for haemophili­acs. The 2009 Archer Report unsuccessf­ully demanded an inquiry and gathered dust as records had been lost and destroyed. The Penrose Scottish inquiry was branded a ‘whitewash’ in 2015.

In 2017, Theresa May at last announced a public inquiry – though lost files delayed it. Incompeten­ce? Negligence? Cover-up?

We finally got a public inquiry. The fact is that many other serious wrong-doings exposed by the press eventually achieve that. Sometimes those inquiries do change the world, but many do not.

When I gave my evidence earlier this year to the inquiry, I was asked by Sir Brian: ‘Was the sense, that inspired The Mail on Sunday campaign, that action was needed and none was being taken?’

I replied simply: ‘Yes.’

Today, 39 years on from that original story in The Mail on Sunday, the Establishm­ent’s continued defiance engulfs all the unnecessar­y loss of life, pain and suffering.

It is imperative that we call that faceless establishm­ent to account, that we question the people in charge and challenge them on behalf of all the less powerful people that trust them.

It’s the job of journalist­s always to ask ‘why?’ and to pursue the answer, relentless­ly, until we can help prevent wrong-doing being repeated and repeated. Until your voice is heard.

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