A company is glamorising genetic testing by taking spit samples at high-society parties to give customers risk profiles for various diseases. But are consumers being given the full story about what genetic risk means?

Instead of sipping martinis from cocktail glasses, socialites at this month's New York Fashion Week were paying to spit into test tubes. The 'Spit Party' was held by 23andMe, an American genetic testing company that recently made headlines by slashing the price of its genetic analyses to $399 (£220).



While 23andMe's customers usually sign up from home, the Spit Party seems to be part of its strategy of turning genetic testing into a social activity. Once online customers have sent off their samples and have received their results (for everything from risk of lung cancer and cardiac disease, to restless legs syndrome and the ability to detect particular odours) they can join various communities on the company's website.

People shown to be slow caffeine metabolisers could unite in their trait, while people at risk of suffering psoriasis might share coping tips.

According to Anne Wojcicki, co-founder of 23andMe and wife of Google co-founder Sergey Brin, the company's mission is to "enable anyone to be able to get access to their genetic information". Telling people about their own genes might sound morally straightforward, but is there a risk that by making the whole process socially glamorous, consumers could be coralled into doing it for the wrong reasons?

Nilesh Samani, a cardiologist at the University of Leicester, recently joined other experts in warning against the proliferation of commercial DNA testing, claiming that trying to predict someone's risk of suffering strokes or heart attacks could cause them unecessary anxiety if the results are not properly interpreted.

The problem arises from perceptions of risk. For instance, a test might reveal that someone is three times as likely to develop coeliac disease as the average person, but their risk of becoming diabetic is only half of the general population average.

Misleading statistics?

Of course, the absolute figures for risk tell a different story. Regardless of your personal, genetically confirmed, relative risk of diabetes, you should probably be far more concerned about watching your sugar intake than about a condition in your guts that often doesn't even produce any symptoms.

The statistics are misleading because it's your absolute personal risk that makes a difference to your health, rather than your risk relative to other people.

23andMe, and their competitors such as GeneticHealth, deCODEme and Navigenics , all say that they ensure customers receive the correct genetic counselling so they can make sense of their results. But how engaged with the process can someone be when they're dropping their saliva samples off at a fashion party?

It would be sad, and ironic, if someone's results stressed them enough to exacerbate a health problem, or lulled them into a false sense of security. And will people really have thought through the implications of finding out they're at high risk of developing a brain disorder like CJD as they get older?

Impacts on health and risk perception are only some of the consequences that need to be thought through before going ahead with a genetic test. There is currently a moratorium on UK insurers' use of genetic testing data to set premiums, but that only lasts until 2014. It's not inconceivable that, while you might not be forced to be profiled, any tests that you have taken could be used to judge your health risks. After all, insurers already discriminate over one obvious bit of genetic information: whether you have a Y chromosome or not.

Although New Yorkers seem happy to host Spit Parties, the genetic testing industry faces opposition on the other side of America, 23andMe's home state of California. The state's department of public health issued cease-and-desist orders to 13 companies over concerns that they weren't competent enough to offer the kind of advice they were trying to.

Genetic profiling can give you the chance to control your own health better, or even lead to more effective personalised treatments. But the information it gives isn't simple, nor are the long-term implications clear yet. By all means, people should have the choice to pay for it, but is giving them the opportunity to join genetic clubs the right way to entice them?