Akst: Let's clear the fog around HPV

Daniel Akst is a member of the Newsday editorial board.

Some of the Republican presidential candidates last week took a break from their accustomed statesmanship to say some dumb things about vaccination against human papillomavirus.

They criticized Texas Gov. Rick Perry for trying to mandate HPV vaccination for sixth-grade girls in his state, even though his order had an opt-out provision for parents who might object. Michele Bachmann later said she'd met someone who told her that HPV vaccination caused a daughter's "mental retardation."

Of course, this isn't the first time anyone has said dumb things in a presidential race. But parents who rely on these particular dumb things may be condemning their daughters to death as a consequence. So it's worth taking a moment to set the record straight.

HPV is the most common sexually transmitted infection; half of sexually active Americans will get it at some point in their lives. Most people can suppress or eliminate the virus, but in others it persists. A lingering HPV infection can cause genital warts, but HPV is also responsible for more than 24,000 cases of cancer annually, half of them cancer of the cervix, which kills more than 4,000 women a year. Some HPV cancers kill men, too.

Fortunately, there are a couple of safe, effective vaccines that can ward off much of this misery. Gardasil, the older and better known vaccine, prevents infections by the types of HPV that cause 70 percent of the cervical cancers and 90 percent of genital warts.

I'll acknowledge this column is one-sided. I did not consult Bachmann, for example. (And no, HPV vaccines don't cause "mental retardation.") Instead I relied on such sources as the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the National Cancer Institute -- agencies that use science in the cause of public health. Call me biased.

The CDC recommends vaccination for 11- and 12-year-old girls, and for females up to age 26 if they weren't vaccinated younger. There is no similar recommendation for boys because the evidence isn't as strong that it benefits them; the CDC says vaccinating as many girls and women as possible is the best way to prevent disease. But males can spread HPV and get cancer from it. The vaccine is approved for boys, and there's a decent case for vaccinating them too.

Despite the great benefits of vaccination, only one in four teenage girls has had the necessary three-shot regimen -- which is tragic. Also tragic is what this -- and the Republican controversy -- says about public attitudes toward vaccination and science.

Vaccination has always provoked skepticism and fear; Cotton Mather controversially urged inoculation in the face of a smallpox epidemic in 1721, but few Bostonians listened and one threw a bomb through his window. It was a dud, which accounts for the survival of the badly spelled note that was attached. "I'l inoculate you with this," it said.

But Mather was right, and by now you'd think the controversy would have died down. Modern vaccines are safe; any small risk is vastly outweighed by the lifesaving advantages. Vaccinating your children isn't just good for them; it also benefits everyone else.

Some parents may resist HPV vaccination on the theory that it somehow encourages sex. That's absurd; nearly everyone has sex sooner or later, and subjecting your child to the risk of cancer is no way to deter hanky-panky.

As to Perry, his idea was reasonable. Unfortunately, an HPV mandate could backfire by creating new opposition to all vaccination. Yet society could do a lot more to encourage vaccinations that will save women's lives. For starters, politicians could start talking sense on the subject.