Autism Mythology 2
There is better awareness about autism, but that does not mean that myths—misunderstanding, misperceptions, stereotypes—about autism do not continue to abound.
Just this past Tuesday afternoon, my friend and fellow autism mother blogger Mom-NOS was aghast (and that is a mild word) to hear a man who works at a snack shop in a hospital (Mom-NOS was there to take her son Bud to a doctor’s appointment) “snidely,” “callously” and loudly proclaim:
“I’m not autistic - I don’t measure time by the length of songs. I use an actual clock…” and then he took off into a lengthy discourse clearly designed to insult his colleague’s intelligence - something about the length of Stairway to Heaven versus other songs and how ridiculous the idea of being “gone for one song” was.
Frankly, I’m not sure what he said after that, because even though his words continued to boom throughout the shop, I was still back at “I’m not autistic” - the insult he hurled in front of my seven-year-old son. My autistic seven-year-old son. My son didn’t react - which doesn’t mean that he wasn’t effected - and so, though I wanted to confront the man on the spot, I decided not to call my son’s attention to his words.
But I’ve spent the past day with a knot in my stomach because this man callously tossed my son’s disability out as an insult. I’ve spent the past day worrying about what kind of cruelty might be in store for my son in the future, if somehow “autistic” is making its way into the popular culture as a hip new put-down, a synonym for “ridiculous,” “stupid,” or “idiotic.”
Mom-NOS wrote a letter to the staff of Patient Relations (which seems an egregious misnomer in the present case—so much for being “patient” about “relations” with others in that hospital snack shop) and received a response within twenty minutes of sending her email (”It is unacceptable when our patients and visitors are exposed to inappropriate remarks and behavior at any location within the hospital.”)
Unfortunately, one does not usually such a fast, and such a courteous and open-minded, response when trying to point out and expose autism myths. One rather meets some amount of contention, some vilification of various parties, and more than a little strife. When I posted on autism mythology a few days ago, the myths I highlighted were the vaccine-autism connection myth (with Dr. Andrew Wakefield being one of this myth’s key supporters) and the epidemic of autism myth, not to mention the much older myth of the refrigerator mother. Discussion (with opinions strongly expressed) ensued in the comments to my post about something that I do not believe is a myth, and which I will hazard to describe as the “neurodiversity myth” or (as some might rather phrase it) the “neurodiverse” or “ND” “movement.” As I understand it, “neurodiversity” is considered by some (not by me) to be a “myth” because of notions such as (1) autism is a difference and not a disability or disorder and (2) there are many similarities between autistic adults who are “high-functioning” enough so that they can speak, write blogs and books, work, etc. and autistic children who are considered “severe” and “low-functioning” and cannot talk, have many difficult behaviors, etc.. Broadly speaking, those who belief that “neurodiversity is a myth” seek to separate the hfa from the lfa and sometimes claim that these are completely different entities.
The latest Ped Med article, Autism myths abound (February 14) also highlights the numerous myths about autism that still persist: “A newfound influx of interest and attention in recent years has started to demystify the puzzling condition once blamed on ‘refrigerator moms.’ Nevertheless, the intractable disorder remains mired in uncertainties and misunderstandings, specialists say.” (I would like to note that referring to autism as “intractable”—difficult to manage and get a hold of; unruly—seems to me to partake of a certain stereotype about autistic persons as “impossible” to manage and to deal with.) Suggesting that autism still “suffers” from “an identity crisis” (of what sort is not clearly defined), the Ped Med article quotes Morton Gernsbacher, Vilas Research Professor and Sir Frederic Bartlett Professor of Psychology at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, and the parent of an autistic son:
“It behooves us as scientists to distinguish uninformed stereotypes from scientific reality and to move beyond myths and misconceptions.”
……
“I would like scientists to become more skeptical of the stereotypes that flourish about autism and members of society to become more skeptical of the myths that are circulated.”
Gernsbacher refers specifically to the notion that autistic persons lack “theory of mind“—the ability to understand that another person’s thoughts, beliefs, emotions, etc. can differ from one’s own; a panel of autism experts addressed the issue of popular misconceptions about autism at the 2006 annual meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science. In On Not Being Human, her February Presidential Column for the Observer, the publication of the Assocation for Psychological Science, Gernbacher writes:
Consider the theorizing of another internationally acclaimed psychological scientist, presented in a widely circulated scholarly journal. After proposing the thesis that “cultural learning” is “a uniquely human form of social learning that allows for a fidelity of transition of behaviors and information among conspecifics,” the authors argued that, like chimpanzees, “autistic children show little or no evidence of cultural learning.” However, the authors ran into a similar deficit of empirical proof, best captured by their admission: “It can be stated with confidence that the vast majority of autistic children do not engage in [a specific type of cultural] learning. Although we are aware of no studies that specifically test for [this type of cultural] learning per se…” In this case, the authors salvaged their thesis by observing that “one robust and recurrent finding is that throughout their development autistic children show significant deficits in their ability to interact with and relate to peers.”
The authors are right; difficulty developing “peer relationships appropriate to developmental level” is a bona fide DSM-IV diagnostic criterion for autism. But by this logic, any DSM-IV diagnostic criterion for any DSM-IV diagnosis could be used as a basis for segregating humans who fit the diagnosis from humans who don’t. And if the diagnostic criterion (e.g., reading disorder, written expression disorder, or erectile disorder) is also met by any nonhuman species, it can become the basis for dehumanization.
Gernsbacher counters more than a few stereotypes about autism in On Not Being Human, the first being that autistic persons—due to their “deficits” in language, communication, social skills, empathy, abstract thinking (you might check the DSM-IV for a few more such “deficits”)—-are not fully “human.” From my experiences with my autistic son Charlie, I would argue that, rather than lacking such “human” traits as language and empathy, he very much has these but does not express them in the ways that the majority of human beings have learned how to do. (See, for example, Charlie’s very emotional, and very delayed, reaction to his wrecking of a certain prized posssession of his dad’s—Charlie felt very bad, I would say, but it took a few days for Charlie to process all that feeling and then express it.)
The second stereotype about autism that Gernsbacher highlights is that autistic persons are incapable of “cultural learning”—that is (in a very basic definition), how a group or a society passes on new learning through experience and participation. On the surface, this sort of learning is something that Charlie particularly struggles with. This is why Charlie is in a self-contained autism classroom with a 1:1 teacher:student ratio; why he has been most successful at learning academic subjects like the alphabet and reading when these are presented to him via flashcards with learning methods individually tailored to his cognitive needs. The students in Charlie’s classroom do participate in some highly scripted group activities—and just learning how to be and then how to learn in a group is a huge task for Charlie.
This is not to say that, gradually, slowly, and always at his own pace, Charlie is learning through his experiences and by being part of a group: Gradually, slowly, Charlie has been acquiring some sense of how different musical styles draw from each other and combine different elements to create some new and unique sound. For instance, on recently hearing the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine, Charlie himself connected something in the lilt and ballad form of the tune—the way all four voices joined together for the choruses—with the sound of the Australian children’s group, the Wiggles. Charlie’s musical education has been anything but structured and well-planned; he has been taking piano lessons since last summer and learned to play some simple songs, but most of his music classes have been in the back seat of the car listening to Jim’s latest choices (Jimi Hendrix last summer, ska and reggae this fall, the Beatles as of this January and then as of yesterday, the King himself). I would have to say that Charlie “experiences” the music from the way he sits up straight and head at the slant that means he is thinking, and that he “participates” in that, later, Charlie sings bars from quite a few albums on his own (like the Rivers of Babylon).
Further, if it is thought that art—the capacity for aesthetic experience and creation—is another aspect of what makes us human, I would suggest that Charlie certainly displays a sense (and tells us this, whether in words or by other means) for what he thinks good music or not. Charlie, I should also say, is a a 9 1/2 child who has never been considered “high-functioning” but “classically” if not “severely” autistic. He has minimal language and a history of self-injurious behavior (head-banging) and he is very far “behind” his same-age peers in his academic skills. I never think of him as a preschooler or toddler in the physique of a boy who is almost as tall as me (indeed, I consider reference to such yet another autism myth): I think of Charlie as a 9 1/2 year old who is almost as tall as his mother who understands as much as any 9 1/2 year old boy, but does not always have th verbal repertoire to communicate this. Just from spending a few hours with Charlie or reading his IEP and seeing Charlie do his best to remember the 21 nouns he has learned to read, and I would doubt if you (I would doubt that I) would think that such a child could grasp that there is a musical lineage from the Fab Four to a children’s singing group. Charlie is no savant in any area; when he is listening to music, he does not appear to be so much listening as idly staring out the window, and I am, then, merely concocting yet another autism myth in staking claims that my “lfa” son understands something about music, about culture, that he is quite unable to put into words.
But it is, perhaps, our impervious disbelief that someone who does not look like they are paying attention is not paying attention, is one reason that so many autism myths abound. The ancient Pre-Socratic philosopher Heraclitus said that
The real constitution is accustomed to hide itself. [physis kryptesthai philei]
There is something about Charlie—there is something about autism, something intrinsic to autism by its very nature (”nature” is the basic meaning of physis)—that indeed likes (philei) to conceal itself, however intentionally or not; that does not feel the need to present itself all the time to the public; and that therefore requires of us to learn to identify what that physis, that “real constitution” is, rather than create myths and misperceptions, and to manufacture misinformation under the guise of facts, about autism.
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POSTED IN: Classics, Music, Myth, Philosophy, Psychology, Stereotypes









12 opinions for Autism Mythology 2
Harold Doherty
Feb 15, 2007 at 8:02 am
The vaccine-autism link is a myth because it is a belief not based on any scientific evidence. It is a dangerous myth because some parents out of fear of autism refuse to vaccinate their children, exposing them and others, to dangerous diseases once virtually conquered.
Neurodiversity is a label used by those who object to the description of autism disorders as disorders. Those who use the ND label are in the process of creating a new myth. The myth that there are no low functioning autistic persons and no differences between them and higher functioning autistic persons.
Whether high functioning autism (a term used in many of the scholarly publications of Dr. Laurent Mottron who is often cited as an example of enlightenment by some in the “neurodiversity” movement - and whose studies focus on high functioning, Aspergers and savant autistic individual) is a different disorder than low functioning autism misses the point to some extent.
Those with low functioning forms of autism will typically have much more limited communication skills and understanding than high functioning autistic persons. I am proud of my low functioning autistic son’s reading skills developed after much hard work and ABA intervention. But at 11 his reading abilities are much more limited than a typical 11 year old. He will continue to improve with hard work but it is extremely unlikely that he will ever be making making submissions to legal and government tribunals or writing lengthy essays on the internet.
My son also does not have the same understanding of dangers such as automobile traffic or broken glass which can hurt him or even end his life. These are serious life important differences between him and higher functioning autistic persons. At 11 we know that he will not be able to live on his own and survive and prosper. He will need to live with others who provide care for him after we, his parents, are gone. These are realities that the ND crowd never speaks about. You might well have posted about such topics on this forum. If so I have missed them.
My autism advocacy consists of more than just sitting at a keyboard. I have worked as a lawyer with autistic children sent home from schools because of behavior which is common with many autistic persons. I have visited a mental health facility with a father to see his profoundly autistic son and seen the realities of life for him and for other autistic persons. No, ALL autistic persons do not end up in institutional care but some do, a lot of the low functioning autistic persons still end up in institutions. Even those who end up residing in relatively progressive group homes can still end up being charged for assault when they react in a fashion that many parents of
Neurodiversity is not a myth, it is a label which, unfortunately is being used to hide the realities of autism for lower functioning autistic persons such as my son and others. To the extent that those who promote the use of this label obscure the realities of life for lower functioning persons with autism they are doing those persons a great disservice. Those who use the ND label so proudly are creating their own myth one which hides the truth, the truth of the hard life which many low functioning autistic persons will live.
As the father of a low functioning autistic person I do not have the luxury of romanticism. Hard headed realism is the only way I can help him now and for the future. The ND advocates will not be in the least impressed by my comments here. But I do not care if they are impressed or persuaded. They do nothing to assist my son or others like him in learning or developing to the best of their abilities. The ND proponents condemn people who use an evidence based method, ABA, to teach basic life skills to their profoundly autistic children. They adore those who opposed advocacy efforts to ensure such services are government funded. But THEY will not lift a finger to help profoundly autistic children. Nor will they be there to help care for these children when they become adults or even acknowledge let alone help adult autistic persons currently residing in institutional care.
The members of the ND “movement won’t get involved and help because they can’t. To truly get involved with profoundly autistic children or adults would require that they depart from the romantic cocoon of the ND myths. That will not happen.
Kristina Chew, PhD
Feb 15, 2007 at 9:47 am
Thanks as always for this, Harold—-I grew up with more than a few autistic persons. I would not have called them autistic then but now know they are, and know that they have suffered in ways small and profound, and life-changing.
Michelle Dawson
Feb 15, 2007 at 12:24 pm
“High” and “low” functioning have specific meanings in the science which are at odds with Mr Doherty’s definitions.
Similarly, the science has things to say about words like “profoundly”, and about Mr Doherty’s assumptions about innate categories of autistics, and about predictors of outcome. I suspect I’ll blog about what the science says re categories of autistics and so on, versus what Mr Doherty and autism advocates say–soon I hope. Mr Doherty will then be free, if he wishes, to say the science is wrong, or romantic, or mythical, or whatever.
Dr Mottron’s work includes autistics of all levels of functioning (in the specific scientific sense of low- and high-functioning), as well as of all ages from toddlers to middle-aged adults. That is true of my work as well.
There is no reason for any autistic to be in an institution. At all. Institutions destroy autistics. Spreading false information about autistics, as autism advocates do, ensures that more of us will end up in institutions.
Mr Doherty frequently expresses certainty that only those who denigrate and dehumanize autistics are helping us. That is the epitome of autism advocacy–the certainty that only by spreading false (with respect to the published science) and pejorative information about autistics, and of course by insisting that we belong in institutions (living in restraints, with our teeth pulled), can we be helped. If only we are sufficiently denigrated and dehumanized, then of course things will get better for us.
Lisa/Jedi
Feb 15, 2007 at 12:54 pm
The myths around autism remind me very much of my years spent working with physically & mentally disabled children in the early 1970’s. Back then one myth I was told was that mentally retarded children did not have the capability for imagination. This puzzled me because I was surrounded by mentally retarded kids that did have imagination & participated in imaginative play. Maybe it was easier for me to recognise these abilities because I was a teenager at the time & not too far out of my own childhood, maybe it was because I spent more one-on-one time with the kids, but even some of the non-verbal kids seemed clearly to me to be able to participate in play, & so we did. This early experience has made me leery of any blanket statements about any group of human beings. When we make such statements we begin the downward slide to dehumanisation, as Kristina mentions.
It seem to me that people are much more like to get their needs met, no matter what their functioning, if they are looked at as individuals. This doesn’t mean that I disagree with discriptive labels- my son is autistic & I’m content to say so. In his case, however (as I have mentioned before), the “hf” & “lf” labels are particularly difficult because his functioning varies widely depending on the demands put on him. Although he is in a mainstreamed school & doing grade-level work & beyond, there is no guarantee that he’ll ever live on his own. We are constantly wrangling with our school district because his uneven skills cause him to require more help in some areas than others. They would prefer that he fit the established pattern for kids with AS, for which they have prescribed specific services, & not need anything extra… but he doesn’t function well at school without the extra help. It seems just silly to me to try and cookie-cutter the services for kids with very diverse needs, but that seems to be the way things work everywhere…
When we label people we also put boundaries on the expectations for them. I can understand the concerns of parents who do not want their children abandoned by “the system”, but I think it’s equally as important to push “the system” to look at individuals, rather than stereotypical groups. This way everyone could better get their needs met.
abfh
Feb 15, 2007 at 1:46 pm
The concept of living on one’s own is a myth. In the modern world, we don’t live in log cabins and grow our own food. Regardless of disability status, all of us depend on others to provide hundreds of services to us every day, from the pizza delivery guy to the electric company.
I think it’s quite arbitrary and unreasonable to declare that some people are living on their own and others are not, based on the kinds of services they receive.
laurentius-rex
Feb 15, 2007 at 4:04 pm
The biggest myth of all is the notion that there is a sure and certain divide between myth and something that can be called reality, for all we can be certain of is that human cognition is imperfectly framed for understanding the exogenous world and we are all bound within our perceptions.
Practically everything that science holds certain can be understood as creation myth, for instance we use newtonian mechanics because it works within a reasonable tolerance in our local world but we are informed it is mere analogy and not accurate for describing the greater cosmos at all.
The social model of disability is not without its criticisms, though I make them from the opposite direction to Tom Shakespeare, however it has been a powerful tool as a sort of liberation theology for changing the thinking about disabled people from benighted objects of charity to people with rights.
Neurodiversity is not a label within the same framework of thinking as Mr Doherty narrowly assumes but a cognitive tool for reframing the way that one particular set of “impaired” people self identify. It is a civil rights tool as much as “black is beautiful” was in its day and has to be understood outside of this current pantomime circus of accusation and counter accusation.
Mr Doherty would not like to be called trailer trash I am sure or any other pejorative epithet based upon some subjective phenomenon of his appearance, ethnicity, embodiment, gender or neurological framework, but the way in which the curebie movement identifies autism as the enemy leads to it becoming and insult in the way that “retard” or “spaz” has.
I contend that compared to me Mr Doherty if he cannot understand this must be severely cognitively challenged and not a very high functioning critical thinker at all
Jez Rourke
Feb 15, 2007 at 7:54 pm
It makes people feel very comfortable or maybe superior to be able to “classify” ANY given individual into a simple box where they can understand them. But we all know or we should that human beings are like snowflakes. Completely individual.
Personally, it offends me whenever I am sorted into a particular demographic, where I become a statistic so the world doesn’t have to look past my skin color, eye color, ethnicity, gender, even occupation.
Unfortunately it’s become a shorthand we use so we can fast forward getting to know a person. We put them in a box and like the other people in that box they become what the box is labeled.
We’ve become a nation of sleeptalkers. We can’t even be bothered thinking of an original way to speak to another person, let alone wait for their answer:
What’s on your plate?
Are we on the same page?
Blah blah blah.
These are questions I won’t answer because I go completely mental when someone has the nerve to say them to me. Thoughts race through my mind like oh my god, this person is sleeptalking. They don’t even know what they’re asking. It’s all sound bytes and idioms and catch phrases.
So as far as critical thinking goes, I don’t think most people THINK at all. Words just come flying out their mouths that they’re parroting.
When people discuss autism and declare autistics have no empathy it really makes me laugh: Neurotypical conversation: Hi how are you? Answer: Fine, how are you? (Neither really cares how the other responds, it’s purely social etiquette). Often one picks up a cell phone before response is given or starts talking about themselves.
So autistics don’t do that little charade, one of many that my neurotypical acquaintances do. YAY! Purity and honesty. I’ll take it any day.
Kristina Chew, PhD
Feb 15, 2007 at 9:26 pm
“Neurodiversity” need not be used of only one “group” of persons. At the risk of vastly watering it down, I would say that we are all neurodiverse, just as here in the US, it takes all of us—of various racial, ethnic, religious, class, gender, and more “classifications”—to make a “diverse” country.
There is so much in everyone’s comments that I need to (in the manner of Charlie figuring out what to do in a new environment) process it all.
I can say that some of the categorizing going on here seems to rest on essentialist notions—of “normal” and “abnormal,” “autistic” and “non-autistic,” “neurotpical” and “neurodiverse.” To say that one is one or the other would be the same as if I were asked to state whether I, being Asian American, am Asian or American.
I am both. A hybrid, if you will.
Diversity, and therefore different varities of autistic experience, are no myth to me—–just as, to me, there is no one way of being American (or Asian American or, for that matter, a mother, a woman, the list goes on and on…….).
Ballastexistenz
Feb 15, 2007 at 11:38 pm
Harold, if you read writing by the “neurodiverse” then you know perfectly well that a lot of us are in just as much danger walking into the street as your child is.
You are perpetuating an even more dangerous myth — the myth that says that any autistic person capable of writing a reply to you is capable of doing a bunch of other things. That particular myth happens to kill people and I am not impressed by it in the least bit.
zilari
Feb 16, 2007 at 2:36 am
I have actually been hit by a car before (because I walked, or rather ran, into the street, as a teenager — there was a car coming, but I was not consciously aware of it until it was too late).
Luckily I got away with nothing more than a bruise, but the fact that the running-into-the-street thing happened doesn’t somehow translate to not being able to post on the Internet.
zilari
Feb 16, 2007 at 3:15 am
Er, to clarify my last comment: basically I was trying to make the point that just as you can’t use “wanders into the street” as a basis for designating someone as one kind of person (e.g., “low functioning”), you also can’t use “types on the Internet” as a basis for designating them as another type of person.
There are more types of person than most people seem to even be aware of, which means that those of us who don’t fit the standard categories seem to get shoved into them anyway, sometimes seemingly at random. I don’t claim to know more about what any particular child is like than their parents (who live with them) do, but I can certainly identify in uncanny ways with a lot of the autistic kids I read about (including the ones who are “minimally verbal” or nonverbal).
When I read about someone else staring at objects, carrying around particular items to the point where it is deemed “inappropriate” or “embarassing”, or spinning, or even banging their head or having difficulty with toilet-training, I can search back in my own memory and access specific times when I and the child I’m reading about would have been difficult to distinguish between. And I was a thinking and feeling person throughout all of that, and knew darn well when people were talking about me as if I weren’t there, or calling me “retarded” or talking about my future as if it were some kind of black hole.
I heard this from certain members of my extended family, from teachers, and from peers, and I don’t know if any of these people had any idea I was even listening. All I’m saying is: be very careful about judging someone’s level of understanding based on how they might appear or what skills they can or cannot be able to access at a given moment. Maybe this isn’t what I see happening, but I do think it’s a mistake to characterise “the neurodiverse” as some monolithic entity of people who are really all “high functioning” in every way that supposedly matters, and who for some reason don’t think that autistic children should be taught or parented. All children can be taught and parented while keeping their basic human rights in mind, and yes, making assumptions about what a person does and does not understand based on their ability (or lack thereof) to communicate in standard ways, on demand or otherwise, is a form of negating someone’s rights. It isn’t necessary to make any assumptions whatsoever about what a person does or does not understand in order to determine whether and how to respect them fully as a person.
As far as practical recommendations go: certainly, if there’s an educational program that seems to be working for your kid, and it isn’t one that prizes appearance over functionality, and it isn’t one that presumes people are automatons or blank slates to be molded into normality through progressive denial that there’s any such thing as a self to begin with, then by all means, use it. But steer clear of the gloom-and-doom language and if at all possible, try to accept that culture itself is prosthetic and accomodating for *everyone* (not just those designated as having specific disabilities).
Kassiane
Feb 16, 2007 at 5:52 am
Making assumptions, sir, just makes an ass of you. You’re making assumptions about people’s diagnoses, life experiences, what they do and don’t do, what they can and can’t do, how they live, et cetera.
In case you missed it, I was diagnosed autistic at age 3, with a genetic diagnosis of speech preserved Rett later (gotta love those genetic analyses eh?). This means I am verbal around 50-75% of the time that I am awake, have severe seizures, and my fine motor skills are a joke in spite of lots of work & quite intense gross motor skills.
Oh. And I don’t live alone. I can’t, sorry to burst that bubble. Tried it, almost died because I can’t remember to eat and clean, but I remembered to go to work.
Do you know what work I did? No? I coached gymnastics and worked with autistic kids. Mostly, one specific boy who had zero consistent words when I met him and around 100 consistent words 2 years (or 3? I have no sense of time either. Minutes or years) later, his first being “NO!”. I blogged about that last year, it’s too bad you managed to miss it. One of my gymnastics classes was for autistic kids, too. Sorry to shatter that happy illusion too.
Actually. No. I’m not sorry to shatter those illusions because anyone calling themselves “Autism Reality” needs a big dose of REALITY once in a while. I loved my students with and without neurological conditions, feel each and every one of them is a worthwhile human being as they are, and that is why I celebrate NEURODIVERSITY. Because K. and J. and S. and T. and D. and M. and the rest of my kids and my autistic, ADHD, mentally interesting, whatever, friends are just as human exactly as we are as you are, as my NT friends and acquaintances are, whoever.
It isn’t a MOVEMENT. It’s a CONCEPT. But what do you expect from people who can’t think of another comparison besides cancer, right? *crosses eyes*
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