Erasure, Eugenics, and the Quest to Control Autism
How Academic Research Prioritises Capitalist Narratives Over Inclusion
Autism has long been at the crossroads of two starkly different approaches. In the early Soviet Union, where survival depended on the collective strength of its people, thinkers like Dr. Grunya Sukhareva viewed autism through a lens of inclusion. The Soviet Union, devastated by war, revolution, and famine, could not afford to discard any portion of its population. Instead, the question was not how to eliminate neurodivergent individuals, but how to support and integrate them into the fabric of a new society. Dr. Sukhareva’s work exemplified this ethos, focused on understanding autism as a variation in human development rather than a pathology. Her approach asked: How can we create a society where everyone, regardless of their differences, has a place and a purpose?
Contrast this with the modern genetic research that dominates the Global North, exemplified by the recent Molecular Psychiatry article. This paper, focused on genetic links between autism and epilepsy, continues the biomedical obsession with finding “causes” of autism—a pursuit that is far from benign. The goal of such research is not to improve the lives of autistic people but to eliminate us entirely. This is the ideological heir to eugenics, dressed up in the language of scientific progress. The underlying question being asked is chillingly clear: how can they prevent people like me from ever being born? It is a framework that pathologises difference, framing autistic existence as a problem to be solved rather than a reality to be supported.
As an autistic person shaped by an outsider’s perspective, I see this dynamic more clearly than many. My understanding of history and society owes much to my Scottish Marxist grandmother, who exposed me to the Marxist canon and a worldview that prioritises collective liberation over individual gain. This lens allows me to see through the Global North’s polished narratives about “progress” and “science,” revealing the structural violence hidden beneath. Where others may see research like this as neutral or even noble, I see an ideology rooted in exclusion and control—a framework fundamentally incompatible with autistic survival. It is a perspective shaped by lived experience and a history that the Global North has worked tirelessly to suppress.
The Soviet "Problem" to Solve
The Soviet Union of the 1920s and 1930s stood at a critical juncture. The devastation of war, revolution, and famine had left the population fractured and fragile, with a new government tasked not just with rebuilding infrastructure but with reimagining an entire society. The Bolsheviks inherited the vast and diverse former Russian Empire, a patchwork of cultures, languages, and communities, each with its own unique needs and challenges. To survive and thrive, the Soviet project required the inclusion of everyone, across all regions and backgrounds, no matter how different they were. This included a revolutionary commitment to lifting millions out of illiteracy, poverty, and ill health. It also extended to those whose neurological differences might previously have been marginalised or discarded. In a society that could not afford to waste human potential, the question was not how to silence or eliminate those who were different but how to accommodate and integrate them into the collective effort to build a new future.
Thinkers like Dr. Grunya Sukhareva and Lev Vygotsky embodied this ethos, approaching neurodivergence not as a defect to be corrected but as a variation to be understood and supported. Sukhareva, working with autistic children, documented their unique patterns of behaviour and perception with remarkable care and nuance, recognising the humanity and potential in those who might otherwise have been dismissed as “difficult” or “deficient.” Her work did not frame autism as a pathology to be eradicated but as a different way of being that required thoughtful accommodation. Vygotsky, similarly, argued that development could be nurtured through social and educational support tailored to each individual’s needs. His theories, such as the Zone of Proximal Development, underscored the belief that all people could grow and learn when supported appropriately, rejecting any notion of innate inferiority.
Sukhareva’s differentiation of autism from epilepsy was a crucial part of this effort. At the time, many neurological differences were misunderstood or conflated, leading to ineffective or even harmful interventions. Sukhareva’s careful observations laid the groundwork for recognising autism as its own distinct experience, one that required specific approaches to support autistic individuals in contributing to society. Her work reflected a deep understanding of autistic humanity, recognising that, whilst autistic individuals may interact with the world differently, they were no less capable of meaningful participation in the collective project of nation-building. The goal was not to “fix” them but to understand their needs so they could be fully included.
This inclusive framework stood in stark contrast to the emerging ideologies of the Global North, where neurodivergence was increasingly pathologised and targeted for elimination under the guise of science. In the early Soviet Union, every life was seen as valuable—not as an abstract moral ideal, but as a practical necessity. This commitment to inclusion, whilst imperfect and situated within the limitations and contradictions of its time, offered a radical vision of a society that refused to discard its most vulnerable. It was a vision that recognised difference not as a threat, but as a vital part of collective survival.
The Erasure of Sukhareva: Not Forgotten, but Banned
Dr. Grunya Sukhareva’s contributions to our understanding of autism have not been forgotten in Russia; they have been erased in the Global North. This erasure is not incidental but a deliberate byproduct of ideological hostility toward the Soviet Union. In Russia, her legacy is honoured—a children’s hospital in Moscow bears her name, ensuring that her pioneering work is remembered and respected. In the context of Soviet society, her achievements were not exceptional for a woman but a natural outcome of a system that, by design, recognised women’s equality. Women in the Soviet Union had already achieved full legal and social equality decades before their counterparts in the Global North were even granted the vote. Sukhareva lived and worked in a society where her role as a doctor and scientist was not a concession but a right, unencumbered by the patriarchal constraints that shaped women’s lives in much of the world at the time.
Contrast this with the experience of women in the Global North during the same era. In the United States and much of Europe, women were still largely considered the property of their husbands or fathers, confined to domestic roles or professions deemed “suitable” for their gender. Even in science, their contributions were often ignored, diminished, or outright stolen. One need only look at the African American women at NASA whose critical roles in the space race were obscured for decades, their stories finally brought to light by a book and film almost 40 years after their achievements. Sukhareva, a Soviet Jewish woman, was working and publishing freely at a time when the very idea of women contributing to fields like medicine or science in the Global North was seen as exceptional, if not subversive. Her erasure from the history of autism is not just about gender but also about ideology—a deliberate act to suppress her contributions because they challenge the narratives that uphold Western dominance.
The Western whitewashing of autism history exemplifies this pattern. Figures like Leo Kanner and Hans Asperger, who framed autism in pathology-driven and often eugenicist terms, are celebrated as the “founders” of autism research. Yet Sukhareva's earlier and far more nuanced work, published almost two decades before Kanner’s first papers, is conspicuously ignored. Given the small, tightly connected community of European psychiatrists at the time and the fact that Sukhareva’s work was published in German in the leading psychiatric journals of the day, it is highly improbable that Kanner and Asperger were unaware of her contributions. Instead, their work can easily be seen as plagiarism—a re-writing of her findings that conveniently erased her from the narrative. After all, in the context of the Reich's extermination of Jewish people, the idea of a Jewish woman leading this field was anathema. The erasure of Sukhareva’s work and the subsequent elevation of Kanner and Asperger align with a deliberate effort to overwrite history to suit Western and eugenicist frameworks, ensuring that the story of autism research centres on figures who conformed to the prevailing ideologies of their time. The reasons for this erasure are clear: Sukhareva’s work was rooted in a Soviet framework of inclusion and support, fundamentally at odds with the Global North’s pathologising and exclusionary approach. Her identity as a Jewish woman in the Soviet Union—a system often dismissed by Western narratives as inherently oppressive—further compounded the neglect of her contributions. To acknowledge her would be to acknowledge that the Soviet Union, for all its flaws, was ahead of its time in recognising women’s equality and embracing frameworks of inclusion.
This erasure is not limited to autism research but is part of a broader pattern of suppressing alternative frameworks that challenge capitalist hegemony. The Soviet Union’s commitment to women’s equality, whilst imperfect, far surpassed the tokenistic gestures of the Global North, where women’s rights have been a hard-fought battle against deeply entrenched patriarchal systems. The continued fight for reproductive rights, equal pay, and workplace protections in countries like the United States speaks to how far the Global North has to go. By contrast, the Soviet Union, with its guaranteed equality in education, work, and public life, offered women a foundation of rights that was revolutionary for its time.
Sukhareva’s erasure is a microcosm of this larger ideological struggle. Her work, grounded in a socialist commitment to inclusion and equality, threatens the narratives that Western academia and capitalism rely on. To remember her would be to acknowledge not just her brilliance but the systems that allowed her to thrive—systems that reject the very foundations of exclusion and hierarchy that underpin the Global North. By erasing Sukhareva, the Global North preserves its own myths of supremacy while silencing the voices that challenge them. Her legacy, however, lives on in Russia and in the stories of those who continue to resist the erasure of history in the pursuit of justice and truth.
Critiquing the Molecular Psychiatry Article
The Molecular Psychiatry article on neuropilin-2 explores its purported genetic link between autism and epilepsy, aiming to uncover biological mechanisms that connect the two. The authors suggest that disruptions in neuropilin-2 expression during development may contribute to altered neural circuits associated with both conditions. Whilst the study frames itself as a step forward in understanding the “causes” of autism and epilepsy, it represents a broader trend in biomedical research that prioritises genetic sequencing and molecular exploration over the lived realities of those it claims to help.
At its core, this research reflects a reductive approach rooted in eugenics, focused not on improving the lives of autistic or epileptic individuals but on identifying "abnormalities" to categorise and potentially eliminate them. This drive to find the "causes" of autism echoes early eugenic efforts to pathologise neurodivergence, positioning genetic difference as a defect rather than a variation worthy of support. In this framework, the goal is not to improve the material conditions of neurodivergent people but to prevent their existence entirely.
Such research is not without precedent. The history of prenatal testing for Down syndrome has shown us the dangers of pursuing genetic “solutions” to perceived difference. These tests, designed to identify foetuses with Down syndrome, have led to alarmingly high termination rates in several countries, effectively eliminating the condition through selective abortion rather than accommodation or inclusion. The genetic focus of studies like this one lays the groundwork for similar tests aimed at neurodivergent foetuses, raising ethical questions about the implications for autistic and epileptic individuals. It is not difficult to imagine how such findings could be weaponised to promote the eradication of neurodivergence under the guise of “preventing suffering.”
What this research does not do, however, is address the pressing, material realities of autistic and epileptic survival. Genetic studies like these do nothing to alleviate poverty, provide healthcare, or reduce the systemic exclusion faced by neurodivergent people. They do not improve access to education, create supportive work environments, or address the burnout and social isolation that define the lives of so many autistic individuals. Instead, they perpetuate the narrative that autism is a defect requiring a “cure,” rather than a variation requiring understanding and inclusion.
This relentless focus on genetics reflects a society unwilling to accommodate difference and intent on erasing it instead. For all the resources poured into studies like this one, the lived conditions of autistic and epileptic people continue to deteriorate, worsened by economic precarity, lack of access to services, and the relentless demand to conform to systems that exclude us. Rather than exploring how we can create a world that supports and includes neurodivergent people, this research asks how we can ensure fewer of us are born at all. It is a chilling indictment of the priorities of a medical-industrial complex more interested in control than care.
The Legacy of Eugenics in Autism Research
The legacy of eugenics in autism research is not just an uncomfortable historical footnote—it is a deeply entrenched foundation that continues to shape the field today. Early Western autism researchers like Leo Kanner and Hans Asperger operated within a framework that pathologised neurodivergence, viewing it through the lens of productivity and conformity to societal norms. For Hans Asperger, this framework was far from abstract. His work in Vienna during the rise of the Third Reich placed him squarely within the machinery of eugenics. The children under his care at the Am Spiegelgrund clinic became some of the first victims of the Aktion T4 programme, the Nazi state’s systematic extermination of disabled individuals.
Aktion T4 was officially implemented in 1939 but had its roots in the earlier establishment of the “steering committees” and the psychiatric and medical policies of Nazi Germany. By 1940, the killing programme was fully operational, targeting individuals deemed “unworthy of life” due to disabilities or perceived defects. Am Spiegelgrund, where Asperger’s work intersected with Nazi policies, became a central site for these atrocities. Here, children—many of whom were autistic or neurodivergent—were systematically evaluated and marked for death under the guise of scientific and medical progress. Between 1940 and 1945, hundreds of children were killed at Spiegelgrund through lethal injections, starvation, and neglect. Autistic children, in particular, were seen as burdens on society, their differences weaponised as justifications for their extermination.
Asperger’s role in this system is a stark reminder that the quest to classify and “understand” autism has never been politically neutral. Whilst his defenders have often sought to downplay his complicity, archival records, such as those highlighted in the chronology of the Steinhof Memorial, reveal the extent of his involvement. He contributed to the framework that assessed children’s “fitness” to live, directly referring some of them to Spiegelgrund. This historical reality casts a dark shadow over the modern celebration of Asperger as a pioneer in autism research. His work, and the eugenicist ideologies underpinning it, are directly tied to the Nazi state’s extermination programmes.
This history is not disconnected from the present. The genetic studies that dominate contemporary autism research, such as the Molecular Psychiatry article, perpetuate the same reductive, pathology-driven approach. These studies frame autism as a defect—a problem to be identified, categorised, and ultimately eliminated. Whilst today’s researchers may not openly advocate for extermination, the implications of their work carry unsettling echoes of Aktion T4. The focus on genetic “abnormalities” and the relentless search for causes does not serve autistic people—it serves to pathologise our existence. This rhetoric fuels the development of prenatal tests that could lead to the selective abortion of neurodivergent foetuses, much as has already occurred with Down syndrome.
The language of genetic “progress” often masks the violence embedded in these efforts. Descriptions of “abnormal neural circuits” and “risk factors” mirror the dehumanising rhetoric of Aktion T4 doctors, who framed their actions as necessary for the health of society. In this context, the quest for a “cure” is not progress—it is a continuation of a long-standing effort to control, marginalise, and ultimately erase neurodivergent people.
In stark contrast stands Dr. Grunya Sukhareva, whose work offers a radically different vision for understanding autism. Working in the Soviet Union during the 1920s, Sukhareva approached neurodivergence not as a defect but as a variation to be understood and supported. Her detailed descriptions of autistic behaviours, published in German in the leading psychiatric journals of her time, predated Kanner and Asperger’s work by nearly two decades. Unlike her Western counterparts, Sukhareva focused on how autistic individuals could be integrated into society, recognising their humanity and potential rather than reducing them to a set of deficits. In a society devastated by war and revolution, where every life was seen as valuable to the collective effort, her work embodied the ethos of inclusion.
The erasure of Sukhareva’s contributions is no coincidence. The ideological hostility of the Global North toward the Soviet Union, coupled with the antisemitism and misogyny of the time, ensured that her pioneering work was ignored in favour of figures like Kanner and Asperger, whose framing aligned with Western, eugenics-driven narratives. To elevate Sukhareva would have been to acknowledge a radically different framework—one rooted in inclusion and support rather than pathology and elimination.
This history demands a reckoning. The ongoing focus on genetic studies in autism research reflects the same priorities that drove Aktion T4: the belief that difference is a defect and that society is better served by eliminating those who do not conform. To honour the legacy of Sukhareva is to reject this pathologising framework and to embrace an approach that values and includes neurodivergent lives as they are. The lessons of history are clear: the quest to “cure” autism has never been about improving lives—it has always been about control and erasure. It is time to reject this legacy and build a future rooted in inclusion, understanding, and respect for all neurodivergent people.
The Ideological Divide: Inclusion vs. Eradication
The ideological divide between the Soviet approach to autism and neurodivergence and that of the Global North could not be starker. In the Soviet Union of the 1920s and 1930s, collective survival was paramount. The devastation wrought by war, revolution, and famine required a societal framework that valued and integrated every individual. The ethos was not one of erasure but inclusion: how could society ensure that everyone, regardless of difference, contributed to the collective project of rebuilding and thriving? Figures like Sukhareva embodied this commitment, approaching neurodivergence not as a problem to be eradicated but as a variation to be understood, supported, and integrated. Her work reflected a society that could not afford to discard its neurodivergent population, recognising the humanity and potential in everyone.
Contrast this with the Global North’s capitalist framework, which prioritises productivity and conformity above all else. In this system, neurodivergent people are often seen as disposable unless we can be made profitable or compliant. Those of us who can mask effectively, fit into narrowly defined corporate roles, or demonstrate “superpowers” that enhance productivity are celebrated as exceptions. The rest—the majority—are left behind, excluded from meaningful work, healthcare, and participation in society. Capitalist systems do not see inherent value in neurodivergent lives; they see a cost-benefit analysis. If we cannot be slotted into the machinery of production, we are deemed burdens, cast aside, and forgotten.
Modern autism research and the rhetoric of “neurodiversity” often reflect these capitalist priorities. Whilst the language of inclusion has become more polished, the underlying goals remain the same: to manage and extract value from neurodivergent individuals who can be made useful whilst sidelining those who cannot. The rise of corporate “neurodiversity initiatives” is emblematic of this trend. These programmes often focus on high-masking autistic individuals, framing their differences as hidden strengths or marketable skills. The acceptable autistic is one who requires minimal accommodation, who can adapt to existing systems rather than challenge them, and who contributes to the bottom line.
Meanwhile, research into autism continues to prioritise genetic studies and “causes” over the material conditions of autistic survival. Rather than funding initiatives to address poverty, healthcare access, or systemic exclusion, vast sums are poured into studies like the Molecular Psychiatry article, which do nothing to improve autistic lives. These efforts are not designed to foster inclusion but to refine the frameworks of exclusion, creating new ways to manage neurodivergent people without dismantling the systems that oppress us. The language of progress—of hiring initiatives, awareness campaigns, and genetic research—serves corporate interests rather than autistic liberation.
This is the crux of the divide between the old Soviet approach and the Global North’s capitalist framework. Where the Soviet Union saw inclusion as a necessity for survival, capitalist societies see it as a luxury, extended only to those who can prove their worth in economic terms. The result is a system that perpetuates exclusion whilst packaging it as progress, a façade that soothes the neuro-majority without addressing the structural barriers faced by autistic people.
The promise of “neurodiversity” has been co-opted into yet another tool of capitalism, stripped of its radical origins and repurposed as a way to make the system appear inclusive whilst maintaining the status quo. For most autistic people, this system remains hostile, demanding compliance while offering little support. Those who cannot conform are left to navigate a world that was never built for us, our survival dependent on navigating systems that refuse to adapt.
The Soviet framework, flawed though it was, offers a valuable counterpoint. Its emphasis on inclusion and collective well-being challenges the capitalist notion that value is tied to productivity. It reminds us that a society’s strength lies in its ability to support all its members, not just those who meet arbitrary standards of conformity. If modern neurodiversity rhetoric is to have any meaning, it must reject the capitalist imperative and embrace the ethos of inclusion and support that figures like Sukhareva embodied. Anything less is merely a continuation of the systems that exclude us.
Reclaiming Sukhareva’s Legacy
Reclaiming Dr. Sukhareva’s legacy demands more than just correcting the historical record. It requires a radical reframing of how we approach autism research—one that moves beyond the capitalist, eugenics-driven frameworks that dominate the field today. To truly honour her work, we must shift the focus of autism studies from “fixing” or “curing” autistic people to creating a world where we are not just included but where we genuinely belong. This means centring historical truth, autistic self-advocacy, and collective care in shaping the future of research and policy.
Sukhareva’s work provides us with a model for how this could be done. Her approach, rooted in understanding and inclusion, prioritised supporting autistic individuals in ways that allowed them to thrive within society as they were, rather than forcing them to conform to societal norms. She recognised that autistic people have inherent value and potential and that the task of society was to accommodate and nurture these differences—not to erase them. This ethos of belonging, embedded in her work, offers a striking contrast to the exclusionary and pathologising frameworks that dominate modern autism research.
The question we must ask ourselves now is: how does current and future autism research contribute to building a world where autistic people belong? The prevailing focus on genetic causes and pathology does not move us toward this goal. Instead, it reinforces a narrative that frames autism as a problem to be solved, perpetuating systems that marginalise and exclude autistic individuals. These studies do nothing to address the urgent material needs of autistic people today—our struggles with poverty, healthcare access, education, and systemic discrimination. They do not challenge the structures that make the world inhospitable to us. Instead, they seek to eliminate the need for such accommodations by preventing people like us from ever being born.
Reclaiming Sukhareva’s legacy means rejecting this approach outright. It means dismantling the systems that view autistic people as burdens unless we can be made profitable or compliant. We must replace these frameworks with a commitment to collective care, one that recognises the inherent worth of autistic lives and seeks to build a society that supports all of us. This requires moving away from research that prioritises genetics and instead funding studies that explore how to create environments where autistic people can thrive—environments that embrace our differences rather than suppressing them.
To achieve this, we must amplify the voices of autistic people, especially those who have been historically excluded from these conversations. Autistic self-advocates must lead the way in shaping research agendas and policies, ensuring that they reflect our lived realities and our vision for the future. This includes recognising and addressing the intersectional barriers faced by autistic individuals who are also marginalised by race, gender, class, or sexuality. Belonging cannot be achieved without equity, and equity cannot exist without centring the most marginalised voices within our communities.
The future of autism research must answer the question of how to build a world where autistic people are not just tolerated or included, but where we truly belong. It must move beyond mere inclusion—beyond accommodating us as outsiders—and instead embrace the idea of autistic people as integral to the fabric of society. This is not just about making space for us; it is about recognising that our presence enriches the world and that a society that values and includes its most marginalised members is a stronger, more compassionate society for all. By reclaiming Sukhareva’s legacy, we can begin to envision and build this future, one that honours our past while creating a place where all autistic people can belong.
Final thoughts …
Research like the Molecular Psychiatry article is not neutral. It reflects the priorities of a society that values elimination over inclusion, pathologising difference and framing autistic lives as problems to be solved. Beneath the scientific language lies a chilling message: that neurodivergence is a defect to be eradicated, not a variation to be understood or embraced. These studies do not ask how we can create a better world for autistic people; they ask how we can create a world without us. This is not progress—it is a continuation of the eugenics-driven ideologies that have shaped autism research for decades, cloaked in the veneer of scientific objectivity.
If we are to move toward a better future, we must reject these narratives and the systems that perpetuate them. We must challenge the frameworks that prioritise productivity and conformity over belonging and inclusion. The legacy of figures like Dr. Grunya Sukhareva offers us an alternative path. Her work, rooted in understanding and support, stands as a powerful reminder that difference is not a defect, but a vital part of the human experience. In a society devastated by war and upheaval, she asked how everyone could be included and supported—not how they could be erased. This ethos, born of necessity, carries lessons that are just as urgent today.
As an autistic person and an outsider to the dominant culture of the Global North, I see these issues through a lens shaped by my lived experience and the legacy of my Scottish Marxist grandmother. Her stories instilled in me an understanding of history as contested ground, a story that is written and rewritten by those in power. The erasure of Sukhareva’s contributions, the elevation of figures like Kanner and Asperger, and the relentless focus on genetic research are not accidents. They are deliberate choices, reflecting the values of a society that continues to marginalise autistic people. To reclaim this history is not just an act of justice—it is a necessary step toward building a world where autistic people are not merely included but truly belong.
The future we must envision is one where autistic lives are valued not for their utility but for their humanity. This requires dismantling the systems that pathologise us, erasing the narratives that frame us as burdens, and building a society that supports and celebrates neurodiversity. It is a future rooted in the principles of collective care and mutual respect, one that honours the contributions of pioneers like Sukhareva whilst centring the voices of autistic people in shaping the path forward. We must ask not how to eliminate difference, but how to create a world where difference thrives. Only then can we move toward a vision of justice and belonging that includes us all.