They Don’t Get Us: How 'Autism Research' Misses the Mark
Researching Autism Through a Flawed Lens: The Double Empathy Problem in Action
In recent years, autism research has made significant strides in recognising the diversity within the autistic community. Yet, studies like one recently conceptualised by David Sander and colleagues at the Swiss Center for Affective Sciences remind us how far there is still to go. This study, which examined how autistic children respond to “cute stimuli,” such as baby-faced animals and infantile features, purported to explore links between social affect and attention. The researchers concluded that autistic children with lower social affect symptom severity spent more time visually engaging with these stimuli compared to neutral objects, whereas those with higher severity did not show this preference. At first glance, this might seem like a harmless inquiry into the nuances of autism. However, a closer examination reveals a far more reductive and neurotypical-centric framing of what attention means for autistic people.
The study’s premise reflects the persistent deficit-based approach that has long plagued autism research. By anchoring their inquiry to the assumption that “cute stimuli” should elicit a universal response, the researchers impose a neurotypical lens on autistic behaviour. This not only reduces autistic experiences to what they lack in comparison to the norms of the neuro-majority but also entirely misses the rich, unique ways in which autistic individuals engage with the world. Instead of asking what drives autistic attention, the study narrowly focuses on how autistic children deviate from a pre-determined ideal.
This raises a critical question: why are studies like this still happening? At a time when concepts like the Double Empathy Problem challenge the very foundations of the neuro-majority’s misunderstandings of autism, why does research continue to prioritise flawed assumptions over genuine curiosity about autistic realities? Perhaps it is time to consider whether the lens through which we research autism is itself fundamentally broken.
The Deficit Lens in Autism Research
The deficit model has long dominated the study of autism, framing autistic behaviours and traits as deviations from the supposed norms of the neuro-majority. Within this paradigm, research tends to focus on what autistic individuals “lack” in comparison to the majority’s expectations, be it social skills, emotional responses, or cognitive patterns. This approach presumes that the neuro-majority’s way of functioning is the ideal, measuring autism against standards that do not account for the diversity of human experience. Whilst the deficit model has contributed to certain areas of understanding, it often overlooks the richness and validity of autistic ways of being, reducing autism to a list of impairments rather than recognising it as a natural variation in neurology.
The study on autistic children and their responses to “cute stimuli” is a textbook example of this reductive framing. By assuming that attention to “baby schema” features—such as round faces, large eyes, and small noses—represents a benchmark for social engagement, the researchers project an unnatural framework onto autistic experiences. The underlying implication is clear: a lack of interest in these stimuli signals a deficit in social affect. Such conclusions not only ignore the vast array of factors that drive autistic attention but also pathologise these differences as shortcomings. The framing entirely disregards the possibility that autistic individuals may simply not prioritise “cute” stimuli in the same way others do, instead engaging with the world through unique and deeply meaningful channels, such as individual interests or logical patterns.
The harm of such studies cannot be overstated. By perpetuating the idea that autistic differences are inherently deficits, research like this reinforces harmful stereotypes about autism. It feeds into the narrative that autistic individuals are “missing” something vital to human experience, a perspective that undermines their inherent value and contributes to societal discrimination. Worse still, these studies often fail to produce findings that are meaningful or beneficial to the autistic community. Instead of advancing understanding or improving support, they reinforce outdated notions that autistic people need to conform to unreal expectations to be deemed successful or worthy.
This deficit-based framing also skews research priorities, drawing attention and resources away from areas that could genuinely improve the lives of autistic individuals. Instead of asking how autistic people thrive, how their strengths can be supported, or what systemic barriers they face, studies like this focus on perceived inadequacies. This approach not only misses the opportunity to celebrate neurodiversity but also deepens the chasm of misunderstanding between neurotypical and autistic perspectives. In clinging to the deficit lens, research risks remaining stuck in a cycle of pathologisation, perpetuating the very misunderstandings that concepts like the Double Empathy Problem seek to dismantle.
The Double Empathy Problem: Why They Don’t Get Us
The concept of the Double Empathy Problem, first articulated by Dr Damian Milton, provides a powerful framework for understanding why communication between autistic and non-autistic individuals so often breaks down. Milton’s theory argues that these disconnects are not due to a “deficit” on the part of autistic individuals but arise from mutual misunderstandings between neurotypes. Non-autistic people often fail to comprehend the worldviews, experiences, and communication styles of autistic individuals, just as autistic people may struggle to interpret the social cues of other neurotypes. This mutual misalignment, rather than any inherent lack of empathy, lies at the heart of the issue.
The recent study on autistic children and their response to “cute stimuli” exemplifies the Double Empathy Problem in action. By framing “baby schema” as a universal trigger for attention and positive affect, the researchers reveal their biases, projecting their own values and assumptions onto autistic behaviour. They fail to account for the possibility that autistic children may prioritise attention differently—guided by personal interests, logical structures, or systems-level thinking rather than social or emotional cues like “cuteness.” In doing so, the study overlooks a fundamental truth of autistic experience: attention and interest are driven by intrinsic factors, often far removed from neurotypical expectations.
This gap in understanding is not limited to the researchers’ methodology but extends to the very premise of the study. It assumes that a lack of engagement with “cute” stimuli signifies a deficit in social affect, a conclusion that entirely ignores the role of personal interests in shaping autistic attention. For many autistic individuals, interests are deeply personal and often highly specific, serving as profound sources of connection and meaning. These interests may seem unconventional to outside observers, but they are no less valid or significant. By ignoring this context, the study perpetuates the stereotype that autistic people lack emotional or social depth, when in reality, their engagements simply follow different pathways.
What this study ultimately reveals is more about the researchers’ assumptions than it does about autistic realities. The focus on “cute stimuli” reflects a projection of their own values, rather than an effort to genuinely understand the factors that drive autistic attention. This projection reinforces the idea that the responses of the neuro-majority are the default against which all human behaviour must be measured, leaving no room for the richness of autistic diversity. It reduces complex, nuanced behaviours to a binary of “normal” and “deficient,” obscuring the ways in which autistic individuals engage with and interpret the world on their own terms.
The Double Empathy Problem highlights the broader issue at play here: the persistent failure of the majority of researchers to step outside their own frameworks when studying autism. This study is not unique in its flaws but emblematic of a research culture that often prioritises neurotypical curiosity over autistic voices. It is a stark reminder that to truly understand autism, we must abandon the deficit lens and embrace approaches that centre autistic perspectives. Only then can we move beyond projection and misunderstanding, building a mutual empathy that respects and values the diversity of human experience.
What Drives Autistic Attention?
Autistic attention operates differently from the way attention manifests in the neuro-majority, often guided by intense personal passions, logical patterns, or systems-level thinking rather than social-emotional cues. These “special interests,” as they are commonly known, are central to how many autistic individuals navigate and make sense of the world. Far from being trivial distractions, they provide a deep source of joy, connection, and meaning, often serving as the foundation for learning, problem-solving, and creativity. Special interests can range from hyper-focused explorations of topics like mathematics or geology to immersive engagement with fictional worlds, mechanical systems, or even abstract ideas. For autistic people, these interests are not just hobbies—they are a lifeline, a way to anchor themselves in a world that may otherwise feel overwhelming or alien.
In this context, the study’s reliance on “cute stimuli” as a measure of autistic attention feels fundamentally misplaced. The assumption that features like large eyes, round faces, and infant-like proportions universally capture attention ignores the diversity of human experiences and priorities. Whilst some people might find these features compelling due to evolutionary or cultural conditioning, there is no reason to believe that autistic attention would follow the same pattern. Autistic individuals are often drawn to what resonates personally or intellectually, rather than what society deems emotionally evocative. This is not a deficit; it is a difference—a reflection of unique cognitive and emotional architectures that value depth over convention.
The idea that “cute” stimuli can act as a universal attention trigger also reduces engagement to something shallow and reactive, failing to account for the complexity of autistic focus. For example, an autistic child might become mesmerised by the intricate mechanics of a clock or the fractal-like patterns of a tree’s branches, spending hours exploring these systems with intense curiosity and joy. Another might dive deeply into the history of a niche subject, uncovering connections that others might overlook. These forms of engagement demonstrate a richness and complexity that studies like this one completely fail to capture. By narrowing the lens to socially driven cues like “cuteness,” the study misses the profound ways in which autistic people interact with the world.
What drives autistic attention is not conformity to a universal standard of “what should matter,” but rather a deeply individualised pursuit of meaning. These pursuits often defy neurotypical expectations, challenging the narrow and reductive frameworks that research like this imposes. To truly understand autistic engagement, we must look beyond superficial measures of attention and embrace the diversity of ways in which autistic people connect, create, and thrive.
Why This Study Should Never Have Happened
This study represents a profound misdirection of resources and priorities in autism research. At a time when autistic people face significant barriers in accessing education, employment, healthcare, and community support, the decision to focus on such a narrowly framed question feels both misguided and detached from real-world needs. Imagine what could have been achieved if the time, funding, and energy spent on this study had been redirected toward initiatives that genuinely improve autistic lives: developing inclusive educational practices, increasing access to affordable health care, or addressing the mental health crises disproportionately affecting autistic individuals. Instead, this study seems to prioritise the curiosity of researchers over the well-being of autistic people.
The ethical concerns surrounding this study are equally troubling. By framing a lack of attention to “cute stimuli” as indicative of a social deficit, the research reinforces harmful narratives that pathologise normal autistic behaviours. It perpetuates the stereotype that autistic people are emotionally deficient or socially detached, ignoring the rich and meaningful ways in which they connect with the world. Such framing risks further entrenching societal misconceptions about autism, potentially influencing everything from public attitudes to clinical practices in ways that harm autistic individuals. The notion that autistic children’s attention must align with unnatural standards to be deemed valid is not just reductive—it is dehumanising.
This study also raises serious questions about research ethics and oversight, particularly the role of the Institutional Review Board (IRB) that approved it. Research involving children, especially those from marginalised groups like autistic individuals, demands heightened scrutiny to ensure their rights and well-being are prioritised. What protections were in place for the children involved in this study? Did the IRB consider how the study’s framing and conclusions might stigmatise autistic participants or perpetuate ableist narratives? One has to wonder how a proposal with such limited benefit to autistic people was allowed to proceed, given the ethical mandate to minimise harm and maximise societal value in human research.
These issues point to a broader need for accountability in autism research. It is no longer enough for studies to merely satisfy academic curiosity or secure funding; they must also pass a fundamental ethical test: How will this benefit autistic people? If the answer to that question is unclear or insufficient, then the study has no place being conducted. Research should centre autistic voices and priorities, focusing on areas that improve quality of life, foster understanding, and promote inclusion. This is not just a moral imperative but a practical one. Studies that pathologise autistic differences or fail to address real-world needs only deepen the chasm of misunderstanding between autistic and other communities.
This study is a stark reminder of what happens when autism research loses sight of its purpose. It underscores the urgent need for a shift in priorities—toward research that values autistic people as collaborators, not subjects, and that seeks to build a more inclusive and empathetic world rather than reinforcing outdated stereotypes.
What Better Research Could Look Like
A better future for autism research begins with a fundamental shift in perspective—one that places autistic people at the centre of the process as co-creators, not mere subjects. Autistic individuals should be the ones identifying research priorities, designing studies, and interpreting results. Too often, research topics are chosen by non-autistic academics driven by their own curiosities or the demands of funding bodies, with little regard for the needs or voices of the autistic community. Imagine how transformative it could be if autistic people had the power to determine what questions are worth asking. Rather than studying “cute stimuli” or pathologising autistic traits, researchers could focus on areas that truly matter, like building accessible environments, fostering autonomy, or improving quality of life for autistic individuals across the lifespan.
This shift also requires a critical reevaluation of the motives behind autism research. Much of it today seems to prioritise commodifying the autistic experience, seeking ways to quantify and control it in service of capital. Whether it’s developing therapies to increase productivity, engineering technologies to train autistic behaviours, or even studying autistic traits to better market products, research frequently positions autistic people as problems to be solved rather than people to be supported. What might autism research look like if it broke free from this capitalist framework? Autistic researchers might pursue questions about joy, creativity, and community-building. They could explore how autistic people thrive in environments that respect their differences rather than forcing them to conform. Such an approach wouldn’t just produce richer, more meaningful findings—it would also challenge the idea that value must always be measured in economic terms.
One of the most glaring gaps in current research is its neglect of real-world needs. Autism is not just about social deficits or sensory quirks; it is about navigating a world that often feels inaccessible and inhospitable. Yet research seldom addresses these barriers in meaningful ways. Where are the studies on how supportive housing can enhance the lives of autistic adults, or how universal basic income could alleviate the financial pressures that disproportionately impact autistic individuals and their families? Why aren’t we seeing more research into rural healthcare access for autistic people, or into what happens when elderly autistic individuals lose their caregivers? These are the questions that matter—not just to autistic individuals but to society as a whole, which is enriched when its members are supported and empowered.
The lack of research on autistic people in elderly populations is particularly striking. Autism is lifelong, but so much of the discourse focuses on children and interventions aimed at early development. What happens to autistic individuals as they age? How do their needs change? What systems are in place—or missing entirely—to support them in later life? Without answers to these questions, society risks leaving autistic elders without the care and dignity they deserve. Similarly, there is a critical need for research into the transition periods that define so many autistic lives, from childhood to adulthood and beyond. What supports are most effective in helping autistic people navigate these changes, and how can society ensure they are universally accessible?
At its heart, better autism research means breaking free from the deficit model and embracing neurodiversity. It means recognising autistic people as experts in their own experiences and collaborators in the pursuit of knowledge. It means asking questions that reflect the priorities of the autistic community rather than imposing external agendas. Most importantly, it means acknowledging that the value of research lies not in its ability to generate profit or reinforce existing power structures but in its capacity to improve lives. By focusing on accessibility, autonomy, and quality of life, autism research has the potential to become a force for genuine change—one that respects, uplifts, and celebrates the diverse ways in which autistic people exist in the world.
Final thoughts …
The time has come to fundamentally reframe autism research, moving away from deficit-based, neurotypical-centric studies that pathologise autistic differences and toward a more inclusive, respectful, and empowering approach. Autism is not a puzzle to be solved or a series of deficits to be quantified—it is a natural variation in human neurology that deserves to be understood on its own terms. Studies like the one on “cute stimuli” highlight the dangers of clinging to outdated frameworks that reduce autistic people to their deviations from neurotypical norms. These approaches fail not only autistic individuals but also the broader pursuit of knowledge, limiting our understanding of human diversity and the ways it enriches our world.
To create meaningful change, we must centre autistic voices in every stage of the research process. Autistic individuals are the experts on their own experiences, and their insights are essential for designing studies that reflect the complexities of autistic realities. This means not only involving autistic people as participants but also empowering them as co-creators, leaders, and interpreters of research. By shifting the focus from external observations to lived experiences, we can build a body of research that truly serves the autistic community, addressing the barriers they face and celebrating the strengths they bring.
There is reason to be hopeful. The growing influence of neurodiversity advocates and autistic-led initiatives is already reshaping how autism is understood, pushing back against harmful stereotypes and deficit-based models. These movements remind us that progress is possible when we listen to and value the voices of those directly affected. By embracing this shift, we have the opportunity to create a more inclusive, empathetic, and informed approach to autism research—one that honours the diversity of human experience and ensures that no one is left behind.