Former Advocate Speaks Out
02 May 2020, 10:59 am
Tom Clements who like me comes from the UK speaks out on some of the most extreme elements within neurodiversity.
Its clear left to their own devices some of these control freaks plunging the depths of absurdity would want to make wanting to improve one`s own medical condition a thought crime & criminal offence.Showing the need to keep some of the more extreme sjw advocates on a short leash.
They clearly represent just themselves not all advocates and certainly not autistic people in general.
Like high school shooters and incels they seem to have a lot of hate, self denial and low acceptance for the outside world whether NT`s, parents or society, they refuse to accept some of those with the same diagnosis as themselves are disabled and may have a different opinion to them.
I have removed a name of a US based anti-neurodiversity campaigner not because I have anything against him, just to comply with forum rules. I believe the message is bigger than one individual.
Quote:
Neurodiversity is failing the most vulnerable
Treating autism as an identity has resulted in care being denied to those who need it most.
Autism is among the most controversial subjects of our time. During my 10 years or so as an autistic self-advocate, I have witnessed a litany of pet theories, ideologies and movements jostle for supremacy in a field that seems increasingly fraught with division. In the absence of a scientific consensus on this complex and multifaceted condition, with which over 1,000 candidate genes and 100 de novo mutations are associated, it is highly unlikely that everyone will ever agree on how autism is to be defined, what its root causes are, or how we ought to proceed in improving the lives of those affected.
In an article I wrote for the Guardian last August, I argued that autism as a diagnostic label has become so broad as to be medically meaningless. I highlighted the absurdity of lumping highly intelligent ‘Aspies’ (a slang term for people with Asperger’s syndrome), such as Greta Thunberg (who famously declared her autism a ‘superpower’), in the same category as children and adults who regularly injure and soil themselves and require round-the-clock care. This echoed the warnings of Laurent Mottron, an autism expert at the University of Montreal. He says that autism is now so over-diagnosed that in 10 years time the category of autism will become meaningless. He predicts that there will be no difference between someone diagnosed with the condition and a non-autistic person.
My Guardian piece, though well received by the majority of readers, sparked a backlash from proponents of a small but influential movement known as neurodiversity. Neurodiversity was once a relatively fringe tendency. But in recent years it has become the dominant paradigm in autism discourse owing to its popularity among academics and journalists. Steve Silberman’s book, NeuroTribes, which received many laudatory reviews for putting a positive spin on a deeply stigmatised condition, helped to bring the neurodiversity paradigm into popular consciousness.
With its emphasis on social justice and autistic-led advocacy, the neurodiversity movement appears noble in its intentions. On the surface, at least, it is hard to object to its impulses for inclusion, social justice, better workplace accommodations and service provision. It emphasises the positives of the condition in contrast to a medical model which views autistic people only as checklists of deficits and dysfunctions. However, as I soon discovered, the mask of compassion quickly slips away the moment anyone deviates from the party line.
Perhaps one of the most troubling developments in the autism-advocacy sphere over the past several years (aside from the proliferation of vaccine conspiracies and the peddling of harmful quack remedies like bleach enemas) has been a growing intolerance towards perspectives that challenge the basic assumptions of neurodiversity. Neurodiversity advocates have waged online hate campaigns targeting parents and autistics who question the notion that autism is merely a bright thread in humanity’s rich neurological tapestry.
I received my baptism of fire four years ago when, despite having garnered popularity in the advocacy community, I committed the thoughtcrime of suggesting that struggling parents of profoundly affected autistic individuals are deserving of greater support from self-advocates. In the minds of neurodiversity advocates, I was being traitorous to my ‘neurotribe’ by sympathising with a group of people often considered oppressors and deniers of autistic identity by the more radical elements within the community.
Accusations of being an ‘autistic Uncle Tom’, ‘self-hating’ and even ‘aut-right’ were thrown my way in a social-media firestorm which lasted for several days. Not long after, and with a slightly devil-may-care attitude, I fully renounced any claim to being ‘neurodiverse’, along with the much-vaunted status it confers within the online self-advocacy community. I suggested in a Facebook community called Neurodiverse UK that we ought to consider discussing the possibility of a cure for the most life-limiting variants of autism. The group’s code of conduct stipulates that anyone engaging in ‘pro-cure talk’ would be banned with immediate effect. And the group was true to its word. I was relentlessly castigated, doxxed and, on one occasion, physically threatened for my suggestion.
It was during this difficult time that I came to learn of x, a veteran autistic blogger from Los Angeles. Over the years, x has been subjected to vast amounts of abuse for wanting a cure for a condition which he describes as a ‘disease’. He has led a one-man crusade against neurodiversity, relentlessly arguing for a cure and rejecting neurodiversity’s key tenet – that it is ‘neurotypical’ society and oppressive parents, as opposed to autism itself, which are largely to blame for autistic suffering. His blog, entitled ‘x’, has been a consistent thorn in the side of a movement which routinely seeks to silence dissenting voices through intimidation.
In 2015, when Newsweek reached out to x for a feature article, neurodiversity proponent and blogger Philip Gluyas implored the magazine to withdraw the article, describing x as a ‘hater’ and ‘a threat to the stability of the autistic community’. Despite a chorus of execration from neurodiversity proponents, Newsweek published the feature. It came out roughly around the same time I had officially ‘apostatised’ as well. I made contact with x and we spoke at length about our common experiences of abuse and about life on the spectrum. We both agreed that the main fissure in our community lay between those who viewed their autism as a disorder and those who celebrated their autism as an identity.
The sacralisation of autism as an identity has led to many neurodiversity-supporting self-advocates viewing treatments – the sort of which might alleviate substantial suffering for those on the lower spectrum – as tantamount to bigotry, hate and even eugenics. Steve Silberman describes autism as a ‘valuable part of humanity’s genetic legacy’. Meanwhile, Nick Walker, a particularly strident advocate of neurodiversity, runs a blog called ‘Neurocosmopolitanism’. He argues that:
‘Individuals and organisations that speak of autism as a “disease” or “tragedy,” and that talk of “curing” it, should be prosecuted for hate speech and incitement to violence, just as if they were advocating a Final Solution to the Jewish Problem.’
In Walker’s view, autistics such as x who voice their desire for a cure, as well as parents who have the temerity to express sadness over their child’s disability, ought to be criminalised.
As Walker sees it, no compromises can be made: neurodiversity is a militant struggle for autistic liberation analogous to the civil-rights movement of the 1960s. Curing autism, in his mind, is as unconscionable as trying to cure homosexuality, which, until 1973, was considered by mainstream psychiatry to be a mental disorder. Many would find his comparison between sexual preferences and a cognitive disability invidious. But in neurodiversity circles, this is nothing out of the ordinary. John Marble, an Obama White House appointee and a prominent exponent of neurodiversity, tweeted that: ‘THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SEVERE AUTISM, just as there is no such thing as “severe homosexuality” or “severe blackness”.’
The with-us-or-against-us certainty of the neurodiversity movement not only acts as an angry mob online, but also, more alarmingly, it is having real-life consequences for the most marginalised people on the spectrum, many of whom, due to the nature of their disability, cannot protest.
Bruce Hall, a photographer and father of two severely autistic boys, laments the overreach of the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network (ASAN), a neurodiversity organisation which cheers the closure of care facilities in the US which it deems ‘too institutional’. ASAN’s de-institutionalisation push has resulted in cuts to service provision for those who need it the most. Hall’s son was placed in the Fairview Development Centre in Costa Mesa, California. It had open spaces, a play area and a petting zoo. The centre offered respite to the family and tranquillity to their son. But this was taken away from them. The closure of centres like these are viewed as victories in the fight for ‘autistic liberation’ by the advocates of neurodiversity – the bulk of whom tend to be cognitively gifted Aspies and are often as ignorant as the lay public about the stark realities of caring for someone with severe autism.
Challenging neurodiversity’s power grab of the autism space has led to an exacerbation of my already debilitating anxiety – a common comorbidity of autism. Several autistic defectors from the neurodiversity movement have messaged me privately in support but have admitted they are too scared to express their views publicly. This is understandable. Had I been aware of the unforgiving climate I was entering into, I would have likely avoided the topic altogether, deleted my Twitter account and chosen instead to focus on what I love most: trains. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to keep speaking out.
Tom Clements is an autism advocate and author from Essex. Follow him on Twitter: @tclementsuk
Treating autism as an identity has resulted in care being denied to those who need it most.
Autism is among the most controversial subjects of our time. During my 10 years or so as an autistic self-advocate, I have witnessed a litany of pet theories, ideologies and movements jostle for supremacy in a field that seems increasingly fraught with division. In the absence of a scientific consensus on this complex and multifaceted condition, with which over 1,000 candidate genes and 100 de novo mutations are associated, it is highly unlikely that everyone will ever agree on how autism is to be defined, what its root causes are, or how we ought to proceed in improving the lives of those affected.
In an article I wrote for the Guardian last August, I argued that autism as a diagnostic label has become so broad as to be medically meaningless. I highlighted the absurdity of lumping highly intelligent ‘Aspies’ (a slang term for people with Asperger’s syndrome), such as Greta Thunberg (who famously declared her autism a ‘superpower’), in the same category as children and adults who regularly injure and soil themselves and require round-the-clock care. This echoed the warnings of Laurent Mottron, an autism expert at the University of Montreal. He says that autism is now so over-diagnosed that in 10 years time the category of autism will become meaningless. He predicts that there will be no difference between someone diagnosed with the condition and a non-autistic person.
My Guardian piece, though well received by the majority of readers, sparked a backlash from proponents of a small but influential movement known as neurodiversity. Neurodiversity was once a relatively fringe tendency. But in recent years it has become the dominant paradigm in autism discourse owing to its popularity among academics and journalists. Steve Silberman’s book, NeuroTribes, which received many laudatory reviews for putting a positive spin on a deeply stigmatised condition, helped to bring the neurodiversity paradigm into popular consciousness.
With its emphasis on social justice and autistic-led advocacy, the neurodiversity movement appears noble in its intentions. On the surface, at least, it is hard to object to its impulses for inclusion, social justice, better workplace accommodations and service provision. It emphasises the positives of the condition in contrast to a medical model which views autistic people only as checklists of deficits and dysfunctions. However, as I soon discovered, the mask of compassion quickly slips away the moment anyone deviates from the party line.
Perhaps one of the most troubling developments in the autism-advocacy sphere over the past several years (aside from the proliferation of vaccine conspiracies and the peddling of harmful quack remedies like bleach enemas) has been a growing intolerance towards perspectives that challenge the basic assumptions of neurodiversity. Neurodiversity advocates have waged online hate campaigns targeting parents and autistics who question the notion that autism is merely a bright thread in humanity’s rich neurological tapestry.
I received my baptism of fire four years ago when, despite having garnered popularity in the advocacy community, I committed the thoughtcrime of suggesting that struggling parents of profoundly affected autistic individuals are deserving of greater support from self-advocates. In the minds of neurodiversity advocates, I was being traitorous to my ‘neurotribe’ by sympathising with a group of people often considered oppressors and deniers of autistic identity by the more radical elements within the community.
Accusations of being an ‘autistic Uncle Tom’, ‘self-hating’ and even ‘aut-right’ were thrown my way in a social-media firestorm which lasted for several days. Not long after, and with a slightly devil-may-care attitude, I fully renounced any claim to being ‘neurodiverse’, along with the much-vaunted status it confers within the online self-advocacy community. I suggested in a Facebook community called Neurodiverse UK that we ought to consider discussing the possibility of a cure for the most life-limiting variants of autism. The group’s code of conduct stipulates that anyone engaging in ‘pro-cure talk’ would be banned with immediate effect. And the group was true to its word. I was relentlessly castigated, doxxed and, on one occasion, physically threatened for my suggestion.
It was during this difficult time that I came to learn of x, a veteran autistic blogger from Los Angeles. Over the years, x has been subjected to vast amounts of abuse for wanting a cure for a condition which he describes as a ‘disease’. He has led a one-man crusade against neurodiversity, relentlessly arguing for a cure and rejecting neurodiversity’s key tenet – that it is ‘neurotypical’ society and oppressive parents, as opposed to autism itself, which are largely to blame for autistic suffering. His blog, entitled ‘x’, has been a consistent thorn in the side of a movement which routinely seeks to silence dissenting voices through intimidation.
In 2015, when Newsweek reached out to x for a feature article, neurodiversity proponent and blogger Philip Gluyas implored the magazine to withdraw the article, describing x as a ‘hater’ and ‘a threat to the stability of the autistic community’. Despite a chorus of execration from neurodiversity proponents, Newsweek published the feature. It came out roughly around the same time I had officially ‘apostatised’ as well. I made contact with x and we spoke at length about our common experiences of abuse and about life on the spectrum. We both agreed that the main fissure in our community lay between those who viewed their autism as a disorder and those who celebrated their autism as an identity.
The sacralisation of autism as an identity has led to many neurodiversity-supporting self-advocates viewing treatments – the sort of which might alleviate substantial suffering for those on the lower spectrum – as tantamount to bigotry, hate and even eugenics. Steve Silberman describes autism as a ‘valuable part of humanity’s genetic legacy’. Meanwhile, Nick Walker, a particularly strident advocate of neurodiversity, runs a blog called ‘Neurocosmopolitanism’. He argues that:
‘Individuals and organisations that speak of autism as a “disease” or “tragedy,” and that talk of “curing” it, should be prosecuted for hate speech and incitement to violence, just as if they were advocating a Final Solution to the Jewish Problem.’
In Walker’s view, autistics such as x who voice their desire for a cure, as well as parents who have the temerity to express sadness over their child’s disability, ought to be criminalised.
As Walker sees it, no compromises can be made: neurodiversity is a militant struggle for autistic liberation analogous to the civil-rights movement of the 1960s. Curing autism, in his mind, is as unconscionable as trying to cure homosexuality, which, until 1973, was considered by mainstream psychiatry to be a mental disorder. Many would find his comparison between sexual preferences and a cognitive disability invidious. But in neurodiversity circles, this is nothing out of the ordinary. John Marble, an Obama White House appointee and a prominent exponent of neurodiversity, tweeted that: ‘THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SEVERE AUTISM, just as there is no such thing as “severe homosexuality” or “severe blackness”.’
The with-us-or-against-us certainty of the neurodiversity movement not only acts as an angry mob online, but also, more alarmingly, it is having real-life consequences for the most marginalised people on the spectrum, many of whom, due to the nature of their disability, cannot protest.
Bruce Hall, a photographer and father of two severely autistic boys, laments the overreach of the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network (ASAN), a neurodiversity organisation which cheers the closure of care facilities in the US which it deems ‘too institutional’. ASAN’s de-institutionalisation push has resulted in cuts to service provision for those who need it the most. Hall’s son was placed in the Fairview Development Centre in Costa Mesa, California. It had open spaces, a play area and a petting zoo. The centre offered respite to the family and tranquillity to their son. But this was taken away from them. The closure of centres like these are viewed as victories in the fight for ‘autistic liberation’ by the advocates of neurodiversity – the bulk of whom tend to be cognitively gifted Aspies and are often as ignorant as the lay public about the stark realities of caring for someone with severe autism.
Challenging neurodiversity’s power grab of the autism space has led to an exacerbation of my already debilitating anxiety – a common comorbidity of autism. Several autistic defectors from the neurodiversity movement have messaged me privately in support but have admitted they are too scared to express their views publicly. This is understandable. Had I been aware of the unforgiving climate I was entering into, I would have likely avoided the topic altogether, deleted my Twitter account and chosen instead to focus on what I love most: trains. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to keep speaking out.
Tom Clements is an autism advocate and author from Essex. Follow him on Twitter: @tclementsuk
https://www.spiked-online.com/2020/04/0 ... ulnerable/
_________________
"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends upon the unreasonable man."
- George Bernie Shaw
04 May 2020, 4:01 am
carlos55 wrote:
Tom Clements who like me comes from the UK speaks out on some of the most extreme elements within neurodiversity.
Its clear left to their own devices some of these control freaks plunging the depths of absurdity would want to make wanting to improve one`s own medical condition a thought crime & criminal offence.Showing the need to keep some of the more extreme sjw advocates on a short leash.
They clearly represent just themselves not all advocates and certainly not autistic people in general.
Like high school shooters and incels they seem to have a lot of hate, self denial and low acceptance for the outside world whether NT`s, parents or society, they refuse to accept some of those with the same diagnosis as themselves are disabled and may have a different opinion to them.
I have removed a name of a US based anti-neurodiversity campaigner not because I have anything against him, just to comply with forum rules. I believe the message is bigger than one individual.
https://www.spiked-online.com/2020/04/0 ... ulnerable/
Its clear left to their own devices some of these control freaks plunging the depths of absurdity would want to make wanting to improve one`s own medical condition a thought crime & criminal offence.Showing the need to keep some of the more extreme sjw advocates on a short leash.
They clearly represent just themselves not all advocates and certainly not autistic people in general.
Like high school shooters and incels they seem to have a lot of hate, self denial and low acceptance for the outside world whether NT`s, parents or society, they refuse to accept some of those with the same diagnosis as themselves are disabled and may have a different opinion to them.
I have removed a name of a US based anti-neurodiversity campaigner not because I have anything against him, just to comply with forum rules. I believe the message is bigger than one individual.
Quote:
Neurodiversity is failing the most vulnerable
Treating autism as an identity has resulted in care being denied to those who need it most.
Autism is among the most controversial subjects of our time. During my 10 years or so as an autistic self-advocate, I have witnessed a litany of pet theories, ideologies and movements jostle for supremacy in a field that seems increasingly fraught with division. In the absence of a scientific consensus on this complex and multifaceted condition, with which over 1,000 candidate genes and 100 de novo mutations are associated, it is highly unlikely that everyone will ever agree on how autism is to be defined, what its root causes are, or how we ought to proceed in improving the lives of those affected.
In an article I wrote for the Guardian last August, I argued that autism as a diagnostic label has become so broad as to be medically meaningless. I highlighted the absurdity of lumping highly intelligent ‘Aspies’ (a slang term for people with Asperger’s syndrome), such as Greta Thunberg (who famously declared her autism a ‘superpower’), in the same category as children and adults who regularly injure and soil themselves and require round-the-clock care. This echoed the warnings of Laurent Mottron, an autism expert at the University of Montreal. He says that autism is now so over-diagnosed that in 10 years time the category of autism will become meaningless. He predicts that there will be no difference between someone diagnosed with the condition and a non-autistic person.
My Guardian piece, though well received by the majority of readers, sparked a backlash from proponents of a small but influential movement known as neurodiversity. Neurodiversity was once a relatively fringe tendency. But in recent years it has become the dominant paradigm in autism discourse owing to its popularity among academics and journalists. Steve Silberman’s book, NeuroTribes, which received many laudatory reviews for putting a positive spin on a deeply stigmatised condition, helped to bring the neurodiversity paradigm into popular consciousness.
With its emphasis on social justice and autistic-led advocacy, the neurodiversity movement appears noble in its intentions. On the surface, at least, it is hard to object to its impulses for inclusion, social justice, better workplace accommodations and service provision. It emphasises the positives of the condition in contrast to a medical model which views autistic people only as checklists of deficits and dysfunctions. However, as I soon discovered, the mask of compassion quickly slips away the moment anyone deviates from the party line.
Perhaps one of the most troubling developments in the autism-advocacy sphere over the past several years (aside from the proliferation of vaccine conspiracies and the peddling of harmful quack remedies like bleach enemas) has been a growing intolerance towards perspectives that challenge the basic assumptions of neurodiversity. Neurodiversity advocates have waged online hate campaigns targeting parents and autistics who question the notion that autism is merely a bright thread in humanity’s rich neurological tapestry.
I received my baptism of fire four years ago when, despite having garnered popularity in the advocacy community, I committed the thoughtcrime of suggesting that struggling parents of profoundly affected autistic individuals are deserving of greater support from self-advocates. In the minds of neurodiversity advocates, I was being traitorous to my ‘neurotribe’ by sympathising with a group of people often considered oppressors and deniers of autistic identity by the more radical elements within the community.
Accusations of being an ‘autistic Uncle Tom’, ‘self-hating’ and even ‘aut-right’ were thrown my way in a social-media firestorm which lasted for several days. Not long after, and with a slightly devil-may-care attitude, I fully renounced any claim to being ‘neurodiverse’, along with the much-vaunted status it confers within the online self-advocacy community. I suggested in a Facebook community called Neurodiverse UK that we ought to consider discussing the possibility of a cure for the most life-limiting variants of autism. The group’s code of conduct stipulates that anyone engaging in ‘pro-cure talk’ would be banned with immediate effect. And the group was true to its word. I was relentlessly castigated, doxxed and, on one occasion, physically threatened for my suggestion.
It was during this difficult time that I came to learn of x, a veteran autistic blogger from Los Angeles. Over the years, x has been subjected to vast amounts of abuse for wanting a cure for a condition which he describes as a ‘disease’. He has led a one-man crusade against neurodiversity, relentlessly arguing for a cure and rejecting neurodiversity’s key tenet – that it is ‘neurotypical’ society and oppressive parents, as opposed to autism itself, which are largely to blame for autistic suffering. His blog, entitled ‘x’, has been a consistent thorn in the side of a movement which routinely seeks to silence dissenting voices through intimidation.
In 2015, when Newsweek reached out to x for a feature article, neurodiversity proponent and blogger Philip Gluyas implored the magazine to withdraw the article, describing x as a ‘hater’ and ‘a threat to the stability of the autistic community’. Despite a chorus of execration from neurodiversity proponents, Newsweek published the feature. It came out roughly around the same time I had officially ‘apostatised’ as well. I made contact with x and we spoke at length about our common experiences of abuse and about life on the spectrum. We both agreed that the main fissure in our community lay between those who viewed their autism as a disorder and those who celebrated their autism as an identity.
The sacralisation of autism as an identity has led to many neurodiversity-supporting self-advocates viewing treatments – the sort of which might alleviate substantial suffering for those on the lower spectrum – as tantamount to bigotry, hate and even eugenics. Steve Silberman describes autism as a ‘valuable part of humanity’s genetic legacy’. Meanwhile, Nick Walker, a particularly strident advocate of neurodiversity, runs a blog called ‘Neurocosmopolitanism’. He argues that:
‘Individuals and organisations that speak of autism as a “disease” or “tragedy,” and that talk of “curing” it, should be prosecuted for hate speech and incitement to violence, just as if they were advocating a Final Solution to the Jewish Problem.’
In Walker’s view, autistics such as x who voice their desire for a cure, as well as parents who have the temerity to express sadness over their child’s disability, ought to be criminalised.
As Walker sees it, no compromises can be made: neurodiversity is a militant struggle for autistic liberation analogous to the civil-rights movement of the 1960s. Curing autism, in his mind, is as unconscionable as trying to cure homosexuality, which, until 1973, was considered by mainstream psychiatry to be a mental disorder. Many would find his comparison between sexual preferences and a cognitive disability invidious. But in neurodiversity circles, this is nothing out of the ordinary. John Marble, an Obama White House appointee and a prominent exponent of neurodiversity, tweeted that: ‘THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SEVERE AUTISM, just as there is no such thing as “severe homosexuality” or “severe blackness”.’
The with-us-or-against-us certainty of the neurodiversity movement not only acts as an angry mob online, but also, more alarmingly, it is having real-life consequences for the most marginalised people on the spectrum, many of whom, due to the nature of their disability, cannot protest.
Bruce Hall, a photographer and father of two severely autistic boys, laments the overreach of the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network (ASAN), a neurodiversity organisation which cheers the closure of care facilities in the US which it deems ‘too institutional’. ASAN’s de-institutionalisation push has resulted in cuts to service provision for those who need it the most. Hall’s son was placed in the Fairview Development Centre in Costa Mesa, California. It had open spaces, a play area and a petting zoo. The centre offered respite to the family and tranquillity to their son. But this was taken away from them. The closure of centres like these are viewed as victories in the fight for ‘autistic liberation’ by the advocates of neurodiversity – the bulk of whom tend to be cognitively gifted Aspies and are often as ignorant as the lay public about the stark realities of caring for someone with severe autism.
Challenging neurodiversity’s power grab of the autism space has led to an exacerbation of my already debilitating anxiety – a common comorbidity of autism. Several autistic defectors from the neurodiversity movement have messaged me privately in support but have admitted they are too scared to express their views publicly. This is understandable. Had I been aware of the unforgiving climate I was entering into, I would have likely avoided the topic altogether, deleted my Twitter account and chosen instead to focus on what I love most: trains. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to keep speaking out.
Tom Clements is an autism advocate and author from Essex. Follow him on Twitter: @tclementsuk
Treating autism as an identity has resulted in care being denied to those who need it most.
Autism is among the most controversial subjects of our time. During my 10 years or so as an autistic self-advocate, I have witnessed a litany of pet theories, ideologies and movements jostle for supremacy in a field that seems increasingly fraught with division. In the absence of a scientific consensus on this complex and multifaceted condition, with which over 1,000 candidate genes and 100 de novo mutations are associated, it is highly unlikely that everyone will ever agree on how autism is to be defined, what its root causes are, or how we ought to proceed in improving the lives of those affected.
In an article I wrote for the Guardian last August, I argued that autism as a diagnostic label has become so broad as to be medically meaningless. I highlighted the absurdity of lumping highly intelligent ‘Aspies’ (a slang term for people with Asperger’s syndrome), such as Greta Thunberg (who famously declared her autism a ‘superpower’), in the same category as children and adults who regularly injure and soil themselves and require round-the-clock care. This echoed the warnings of Laurent Mottron, an autism expert at the University of Montreal. He says that autism is now so over-diagnosed that in 10 years time the category of autism will become meaningless. He predicts that there will be no difference between someone diagnosed with the condition and a non-autistic person.
My Guardian piece, though well received by the majority of readers, sparked a backlash from proponents of a small but influential movement known as neurodiversity. Neurodiversity was once a relatively fringe tendency. But in recent years it has become the dominant paradigm in autism discourse owing to its popularity among academics and journalists. Steve Silberman’s book, NeuroTribes, which received many laudatory reviews for putting a positive spin on a deeply stigmatised condition, helped to bring the neurodiversity paradigm into popular consciousness.
With its emphasis on social justice and autistic-led advocacy, the neurodiversity movement appears noble in its intentions. On the surface, at least, it is hard to object to its impulses for inclusion, social justice, better workplace accommodations and service provision. It emphasises the positives of the condition in contrast to a medical model which views autistic people only as checklists of deficits and dysfunctions. However, as I soon discovered, the mask of compassion quickly slips away the moment anyone deviates from the party line.
Perhaps one of the most troubling developments in the autism-advocacy sphere over the past several years (aside from the proliferation of vaccine conspiracies and the peddling of harmful quack remedies like bleach enemas) has been a growing intolerance towards perspectives that challenge the basic assumptions of neurodiversity. Neurodiversity advocates have waged online hate campaigns targeting parents and autistics who question the notion that autism is merely a bright thread in humanity’s rich neurological tapestry.
I received my baptism of fire four years ago when, despite having garnered popularity in the advocacy community, I committed the thoughtcrime of suggesting that struggling parents of profoundly affected autistic individuals are deserving of greater support from self-advocates. In the minds of neurodiversity advocates, I was being traitorous to my ‘neurotribe’ by sympathising with a group of people often considered oppressors and deniers of autistic identity by the more radical elements within the community.
Accusations of being an ‘autistic Uncle Tom’, ‘self-hating’ and even ‘aut-right’ were thrown my way in a social-media firestorm which lasted for several days. Not long after, and with a slightly devil-may-care attitude, I fully renounced any claim to being ‘neurodiverse’, along with the much-vaunted status it confers within the online self-advocacy community. I suggested in a Facebook community called Neurodiverse UK that we ought to consider discussing the possibility of a cure for the most life-limiting variants of autism. The group’s code of conduct stipulates that anyone engaging in ‘pro-cure talk’ would be banned with immediate effect. And the group was true to its word. I was relentlessly castigated, doxxed and, on one occasion, physically threatened for my suggestion.
It was during this difficult time that I came to learn of x, a veteran autistic blogger from Los Angeles. Over the years, x has been subjected to vast amounts of abuse for wanting a cure for a condition which he describes as a ‘disease’. He has led a one-man crusade against neurodiversity, relentlessly arguing for a cure and rejecting neurodiversity’s key tenet – that it is ‘neurotypical’ society and oppressive parents, as opposed to autism itself, which are largely to blame for autistic suffering. His blog, entitled ‘x’, has been a consistent thorn in the side of a movement which routinely seeks to silence dissenting voices through intimidation.
In 2015, when Newsweek reached out to x for a feature article, neurodiversity proponent and blogger Philip Gluyas implored the magazine to withdraw the article, describing x as a ‘hater’ and ‘a threat to the stability of the autistic community’. Despite a chorus of execration from neurodiversity proponents, Newsweek published the feature. It came out roughly around the same time I had officially ‘apostatised’ as well. I made contact with x and we spoke at length about our common experiences of abuse and about life on the spectrum. We both agreed that the main fissure in our community lay between those who viewed their autism as a disorder and those who celebrated their autism as an identity.
The sacralisation of autism as an identity has led to many neurodiversity-supporting self-advocates viewing treatments – the sort of which might alleviate substantial suffering for those on the lower spectrum – as tantamount to bigotry, hate and even eugenics. Steve Silberman describes autism as a ‘valuable part of humanity’s genetic legacy’. Meanwhile, Nick Walker, a particularly strident advocate of neurodiversity, runs a blog called ‘Neurocosmopolitanism’. He argues that:
‘Individuals and organisations that speak of autism as a “disease” or “tragedy,” and that talk of “curing” it, should be prosecuted for hate speech and incitement to violence, just as if they were advocating a Final Solution to the Jewish Problem.’
In Walker’s view, autistics such as x who voice their desire for a cure, as well as parents who have the temerity to express sadness over their child’s disability, ought to be criminalised.
As Walker sees it, no compromises can be made: neurodiversity is a militant struggle for autistic liberation analogous to the civil-rights movement of the 1960s. Curing autism, in his mind, is as unconscionable as trying to cure homosexuality, which, until 1973, was considered by mainstream psychiatry to be a mental disorder. Many would find his comparison between sexual preferences and a cognitive disability invidious. But in neurodiversity circles, this is nothing out of the ordinary. John Marble, an Obama White House appointee and a prominent exponent of neurodiversity, tweeted that: ‘THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SEVERE AUTISM, just as there is no such thing as “severe homosexuality” or “severe blackness”.’
The with-us-or-against-us certainty of the neurodiversity movement not only acts as an angry mob online, but also, more alarmingly, it is having real-life consequences for the most marginalised people on the spectrum, many of whom, due to the nature of their disability, cannot protest.
Bruce Hall, a photographer and father of two severely autistic boys, laments the overreach of the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network (ASAN), a neurodiversity organisation which cheers the closure of care facilities in the US which it deems ‘too institutional’. ASAN’s de-institutionalisation push has resulted in cuts to service provision for those who need it the most. Hall’s son was placed in the Fairview Development Centre in Costa Mesa, California. It had open spaces, a play area and a petting zoo. The centre offered respite to the family and tranquillity to their son. But this was taken away from them. The closure of centres like these are viewed as victories in the fight for ‘autistic liberation’ by the advocates of neurodiversity – the bulk of whom tend to be cognitively gifted Aspies and are often as ignorant as the lay public about the stark realities of caring for someone with severe autism.
Challenging neurodiversity’s power grab of the autism space has led to an exacerbation of my already debilitating anxiety – a common comorbidity of autism. Several autistic defectors from the neurodiversity movement have messaged me privately in support but have admitted they are too scared to express their views publicly. This is understandable. Had I been aware of the unforgiving climate I was entering into, I would have likely avoided the topic altogether, deleted my Twitter account and chosen instead to focus on what I love most: trains. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to keep speaking out.
Tom Clements is an autism advocate and author from Essex. Follow him on Twitter: @tclementsuk
https://www.spiked-online.com/2020/04/0 ... ulnerable/
The identity/condition issue certainly presents a huge dilemma, but I guess my biggest question is, why not have both?
Why not work on developing resources, treatments, and cures available for those who want them, while still working towards creating a society that's more friendly to those who view neurodiversity as something to be better integrated into human interaction? Why the splitting into two camps?
Shouldn't we be free to define and/or end our own relationships with autism the way we as individuals see fit?
_________________
My epitaph will read, "Dammit, I died! I want a do-over!"
04 May 2020, 5:21 am
What % of the neurodiversity community are 'aspie supremacists', or against a cure regardless of how severely disabled a person is ? Is the neurodiversity community really packed to the rafters with anti cure zealots, or are we talking about a small, but very vocal, group of people?
04 May 2020, 6:08 pm
TheOneAndOnlyShane wrote:
Why not work on developing resources, treatments, and cures available for those who want them, while still working towards creating a society that's more friendly to those who view neurodiversity as something to be better integrated into human interaction? Why the splitting into two camps?
That's actually the exact perspective I follow. Sadly, compromising is not something the either end of the supposed binary (anti- vs. pro-cure) seems to want.
firemonkey wrote:
Is the neurodiversity community really packed to the rafters with anti cure zealots, or are we talking about a small, but very vocal, group of people?
That's a very valid point. I would assume that there are radicals within the neurodiversity group, but their numbers are rather small. You really only hear about either these people or the very, very pro-cure ones. That's just society polarizing issues when it's really not necessary since people are drawn to strong, extreme beliefs.
_________________
I am no longer using WP. Please PM me if you want to talk.
ASPartOfMe
Veteran
Joined: 25 Aug 2013
Age: 67
Gender: Male
Posts: 36,629
Location: Long Island, New York
04 May 2020, 7:04 pm
firemonkey wrote:
What % of the neurodiversity community are 'aspie supremacists', or against a cure regardless of how severely disabled a person is ? Is the neurodiversity community really packed to the rafters with anti cure zealots, or are we talking about a small, but very vocal, group of people?
From what I have seen only a fairly small minority of ND are supremacists and the perception that ND supporter=elitist/supremacist is a much greater problem than actual autism/aspie supremacists. Autism/Aspie supremacy takes the forms of statements such as NT's are stupid(not including statements done out of momentary frustration), Autism is a superpower, and Autistics are the next step in evolution. The growing popularity of the "Autism is a superpower" idea has me concerned. Greta Thunberg aside this seems largely a parent phenomenon.
The ND movement is pretty much anti cure. They tend to be in favor of curing debilitating co-morbids but not autism.
_________________
Professionally Identified and joined WP August 26, 2013
DSM 5: Autism Spectrum Disorder, DSM IV: Aspergers Moderate Severity
“My autism is not a superpower. It also isn’t some kind of god-forsaken, endless fountain of suffering inflicted on my family. It’s just part of who I am as a person”. - Sara Luterman
Last edited by ASPartOfMe on 04 May 2020, 7:23 pm, edited 1 time in total.
05 May 2020, 1:59 am
I don’t think “autism is a superpower” is necessarily supremacist. It’s simplistic and broad brush, but autism does provide a very different skill set to the NT condition. There are benefits to having all these different neurotypes covering each other’s weaknesses.
Greta specifically says autism is “my superpower”. That doesn’t suggest that NTs don’t have superpowers of their own.
05 May 2020, 3:20 am
Yes, I agree 100% with TheOneAndOnlyShane people should be free to decide what they want or identify with, this article was written by a well-known writer of a mainstream left-wing newspaper the guardian so I thought it worthy of being submitted.
The whole “Uncle Tom” thing with wanting to fix one`s own disabilities and calling for autistics to be jailed for expressing a wish to cure their disabilities and others who help them is weird and disturbing, although I would be in favour of jailing those who sell "dangerous cures" like bleech.
The irony and hypocrisy is one of the people mentioned nick walker identifies as “neuroqueer”, so probably a supporter of LGBT rights and would be the first to scream at anyone who wanted to prevent trans people seeking their chosen path.
Actually they are not “aspie supremacists”, I looked the term up, for all their faults and snobbery that makes them generally disliked in the autism community, they are usually quite highly intelligent and generally smart enough to realise that some autistic people are obviously severely disabled and would benefit from some kind of future medical intervention if there ever was one.
In my opinion this kind of fanaticism stems from the natural difference belief and the view of regarding autism as a single thing as opposed to a simple 20th century generic description of brain deficits of varying severity and multiple causes.
Basically a parking space for disabilities scientists don't yet fully understand.
If you believe something is true then everything else is true, if all brains are equally valid differences then there are no such thing as mental disabilities only differences, that must not be interfered with, whether not talking, poor coordination or being paranoid & hearing voices.
So, with this view there is no such thing as mental illness or the need for psychiatry.
Personally I’m not a cure everybody fanatic, if someone is happy with being autistic good for them and they should be left alone to pursue that life, but if someone autistic and has life destroying disabilities or even minor difficulties they should be allowed to express the wish to remove them and others should be free to help whether individuals or the medical community.
_________________
"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends upon the unreasonable man."
- George Bernie Shaw
05 May 2020, 4:42 am
carlos55 wrote:
,
Personally I’m not a cure everybody fanatic, if someone is happy with being autistic good for them and they should be left alone to pursue that life, but if someone autistic and has life destroying disabilities or even minor difficulties they should be allowed to express the wish to remove them and others should be free to help whether individuals or the medical community.
Personally I’m not a cure everybody fanatic, if someone is happy with being autistic good for them and they should be left alone to pursue that life, but if someone autistic and has life destroying disabilities or even minor difficulties they should be allowed to express the wish to remove them and others should be free to help whether individuals or the medical community.
I think that's a reasonable position to hold . Having said that I think people should be aware that ,as things currently are, there is not the ability to remove just the debilitating effects of being on the spectrum .
It's basically an 'all or nothing' situation . If you're high functioning , with an abundance of positives related to being autistic, and not many negatives, you'd not want to lose that .
If you're at the other end of the spectrum there may be little to lose in terms of positive effects . A question I would raise is when should a person be seen as so disabled that the decision to opt in or out of a 'cure' is taken out of their hands?
ASPartOfMe
Veteran
Joined: 25 Aug 2013
Age: 67
Gender: Male
Posts: 36,629
Location: Long Island, New York
05 May 2020, 5:44 am
The_Walrus wrote:
I don’t think “autism is a superpower” is necessarily supremacist. It’s simplistic and broad brush, but autism does provide a very different skill set to the NT condition. There are benefits to having all these different neurotypes covering each other’s weaknesses.
Greta specifically says autism is “my superpower”. That doesn’t suggest that NTs don’t have superpowers of their own.
Greta specifically says autism is “my superpower”. That doesn’t suggest that NTs don’t have superpowers of their own.
That is one reason I wrote withn the exception of Greta. If you say you have superpowers because you are autistic you are in a way saying you are not human, you are better than them. If you want to say Autism carries certain positive skill sets that is fine. If you keep on saying my kid has superpowers because of autism you are telling kids they are special, they are superior to their peers and what you end up with kids who think they are special giving them an oversized ego who can't handle failure.
I understand the superpower idea was invented and with the intent to counter all the ret*d and other negative stigmas thrown at us over the years. This good intent is a dangerous overcorrection that is spreading false information.
_________________
Professionally Identified and joined WP August 26, 2013
DSM 5: Autism Spectrum Disorder, DSM IV: Aspergers Moderate Severity
“My autism is not a superpower. It also isn’t some kind of god-forsaken, endless fountain of suffering inflicted on my family. It’s just part of who I am as a person”. - Sara Luterman
05 May 2020, 6:21 am
One could say that some autistic folks have certain “superpowers,” borne of a singular focus.
But to say that autistic people are superior to NTs is an absurd statement on many levels.
But no one, inherently, is inferior to any one else. Autistic folks have the right to be treated with equal respect with neurotypicals.
funeralxempire
Veteran
Joined: 27 Oct 2014
Age: 40
Gender: Non-binary
Posts: 30,190
Location: Right over your left shoulder
08 May 2020, 8:38 pm
I love belko61 wrote:
Well I've been on WP a few months now. Haven't met a zealot yet, and I hope that I don't!
That's at least partially because they get banned quickly , either for zealotry on that topic or on another one. Angry, maladjusted people struggle to fit into communities, which both tends to fuel their resentment as well as generally undermining their ability to do anything serious towards humanity.
_________________
The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.
You can't advance to the next level without stomping on a few Koopas.
09 May 2020, 2:41 pm
I don't know whether it's something that's very much happened since the mass use of the internet ,but be it ASD or mental illness there are people like Tom Clements who self promote themselves as 'experts' who are more knowledgeable than others on the spectrum and/or with a mental illness .
For me he's just another person on the spectrum expressing a view , and no more qualified than a lot of people here when it comes to the worth of those views .
09 May 2020, 3:37 pm
It is interesting. On the one hand one has those in the spectrum who are without doubt severly dissabled by the codition, and on the other hand one has those who have struggles and are at a noticeable dissadvantage in life when compared to those who are nerotypical. The old catagory which seperated those on the spectrum into two main groups did go into a sensible way to help describe the levels of difficulty one may likely encounter by being on the spectrum, though it wasn't perfect.
Last edited by Mountain Goat on 09 May 2020, 4:29 pm, edited 2 times in total.
09 May 2020, 4:21 pm
^ For me it's been a case of short, verbal interactions being seen as proof that any failure to cope/do as well as expected has to be down to laziness/passive agressiveness .
It's only thanks to my stepdaughter, and looking at how things are in a longer,less verbally dominated, situation, that a more accurate and intelligent appraisal of how I'm really doing has occurred .
