It's
a commonly known trope that there seems to be a fine line between
genius and insanity. Indeed, so many of those who have been most
responsible for changing the world for the better have (or had) at
one point in their lives or another been thought of as disabled
and/or unhinged. Steve Jobs, for example, while creatively brilliant
and almost single-handedly responsible for the rise of Apple Inc.,
was also revealed by several co-workers, subordinates and family
members to be irritable, short-tempered and mean-spirited to those
who in his mind didn't understand his obsessive vision of perfection.
Likewise, as a more classic example, Albert Einstein was considered
slow and had difficulty communicating and understanding math, and
yet is now reverently known among scientists as the father of the
theory of general relativity. History is replete with such examples
of nearly unhinged genius, and I would argue that many of these
individuals possessed some condition such as Aspergers (or ADHD, OCD,
etc.) that made them neurodivergent.
This
isn't as crazy as it sounds, and there is scientific evidence to back
it up. In fact, Hans Asperger himself has gone on record saying that
children on the spectrum tend to have “a
special interest which enables them to achieve quite extraordinary
levels of performance in a certain area.” In
addition, he also said that
“it seems that for success in science or art, a dash of autism is
essential.” If the father of the Asperger diagnosis himself has
made the case for the merits of being differently wired, who are we
to argue?
I've
said it before, but playing to and advocating the
strengths of those on the Autism spectrum is essential to providing
the kind of empowerment many need to succeed. After all, to someone
growing up with a condition that many believe either doesn't exist,
or is a tragedy, its hard to overcome the feeling of being somehow
broken. Believe me I know. In a world that has such a narrowly
defined and subjective view of normalcy, its easier to feel like a
freak than it is to recognize that often times being a freak means
that you're the only buffalo with the wherewithal to realize that the
herd probably shouldn't be running off a cliff.
But
wait a minute, you say; surely normalcy isn't subjective? What about
all the drawbacks faced by those with conditions such as ASD or ADHD?
Aren't people disabled by these conditions? You'll get no
disagreement from me that having any number of alternate brain
wirings can be a recipe for pain and difficulty in life. I would
argue, however, that many of these are caused by the social
construction of disability. That is to say, many of our problems as
Aspies come from the fact that we aren't in the majority, and so we
don't set social conventions of what constitutes 'normal.'
To
illustrate this point, I'd like to do a little thought experiment
with you dear reader. Let's assume for a minute that the autistic
brain was considered to be the baseline 'normal' wiring of human grey
matter. Such a world would be organized along intensely logical lines
with little variation. Social order would be upheld by streaming
children into educational pursuits based on their Autistic special
interests, and excessive noise would be considered grating and
irritating and be avoided at all costs. Social interaction would of
course still happen since on some level its wired into human genetic
makeup, albeit to a lesser and more eccentric degree than it
currently is, with socially acceptable quiet time making up a part of
everyone's day. Everyone would be expected to focus on and become
absorbed by their special interests, and it would be considered a
noble use of time to become an expert in one's chosen field. I'm not
saying every Aspie or Autistic individual perfectly fits this mold;
indeed some of us are less rigid and more emotional
with our free time. Overall, however, I think this kind of would
would make us all pretty happy, myself included.
Now,
imagine into this perfect Autistic world is
born a Neurotypical individual. From birth, this person would be
thought of as being different somehow. “Why, Jane is talking before
she's even five years old!” a parent might exclaim. At this early
age, experts would be dumbfounded by the rapid onset of language, and
deem that Jane was a genius. They would study her intensely, with no
one quite sure what to make of the wonder-toddler. As she aged,
however, people's opinions of Jane would change. Eventually, she'd
attempt to express what would be seen as an 'excess' amount of
affection for her parents, and a yearning to be with other children.
When she got to be school age, Jane would not discover a
single-minded passion for one subject like many of her peers, nor
would she be able to become intensely interested in one topic at a
time and shift between these many obsessive interests like many
others. At this point, her parents would probably become concerned
and take Jane to an expert, worried that somewhere along the way
she'd lost the brilliant spark within her that granted her the
ability to speak before age five.
What
would such an expert say of Jane, who was clearly differently wired
by the standards of this fictional Autistic world? “It is my
opinion that this child suffers a form of intellectual regressive
psychosis, particularly one that triggers the dormant primal parts of
the brain that control social interaction,” one might say. Another
may argue that “though the child begins life bright and with every
advantage, abnormal brain development causes a deterioration of
hyperfocussing ability, coupled with a near obsessive desire for
social interaction and networking.” Yet another doctor may even
argue that Jane's parents themselves were at fault for her
differences, saying that “her condition is caused by an excess of
affection shown toward the child by her parental units during the
early years of her development.” If this bizarro world is anything
like our own, this person may even go on to be credited as the sole
father of “Neurotypical Disorder” for years before anyone
challenges his wisdom.
Eventually,
of course, this strange parallel world would develop its own
equivalent of the Neurodiversity movement, albeit one which instead
argues for the rights of Neurotypicals as full members of the human
experience. This movement would propose that, far from being
disabled, Neurotypicals are “brilliantly social, with a rich fabric
of interactions the rest of us can only dream of.” Furthermore,
scientists would come to discover that Neurotypicals have had a history of existence dating back to the dawn of human history. People
would come out proudly as Neurotypical, or they would affectionately
proclaim that “my uncle Tim has always been weirdly obsessed with
talking to people. We all thought he was strange but now I think he's
Neurotypical!” There may even be a Neurotypical version of myself
in this universe, struggling to write this book about my experiences
as a social extrovert while trying to decide what to pre-drink before
the party later that night. The
NT community would have its own awakening moment, much like the
Autistics of our world are starting to, and humanity would finally
begin embracing the concept of Neurodiversity.
Sadly,
this story probably didn't end as well for Jane. If Autistic World
was anything like ours in its treatment of those who are
neurologically different, Jane would have been institutionalized
shortly after her parents took her to get evaluated. She would have
spent life alone in a padded room, hopped up on medication designed
to suppress social desires and increase her ability to focus on one
thing and become absorbed. Inevitably of course, Jane would revert,
since chemicals can only temporarily change a person's behaviour, not
convert a Neurotypical into an Autistic or vice versa. She may even
have experienced electroshock treatments in a perverse attempt to
correct her social behaviour much like Autistics did in our world at
the hands of behaviourists. Eventually, Jane would commit suicide
after having lived a life of sadness in a world that wanted her to
conform and embrace solitude when all she yearned for was the warm
embrace of another human. While she would come to be the poster child
of the movement against the brutalities of the psychiatric care
system in her world, this would prove to be cold comfort both to Jane
and her parents.
This
may seem like an exaggeration, but sadly its all too similar to our
own society's views of Autism throughout the ages. The horrible
reality is, Autistic people who were very much in Jane's position
endured all of the same kinds of terrible treatments she did, while
getting none of the support she should have received. Genius does
come part and parcel with a differential brain wiring, but often
times whether one is seen as brilliant or mentally diseased very
much depends on the conditions of one's birth. As an Aspie, I've
always known I was intelligent, but the big reason I was able to
embrace that and not be defined by my deficits has always been that
my parents didn't allow such a thing to happen. Other children were
not as fortunate, and this is a humbling realization to come to. For
this reason, its important that we recognize that every human,
regardless of brain wiring, faces situations with which their grey
matter just isn't equipped to deal. In such situations, we all need
help and support so that we can overcome it and play to our
strengths, whatever those may be. If we try to cure Autism instead,
all we risk doing is exterminating a neurotype with so much to offer
humanity.
We
risk losing the people who see the world differently, and this in
itself would be a crime beyond measure.
Yours in Diversity,
Adam Michael
