Will they ever stop?
A recent article on ‘recognising signs of autism spectrum disorder throughout childhood and adolescence’ fundamentally takes quite a medicalised stance on our neurotype. By predominantly focusing on cataloguing various “symptoms” and “indicators” to “look out for” at different ages, autism is framed through the lens of a disorder or problem which requires identification and intervention, rather than as a natural difference in neurological wiring.
The author sets up developmental checklists of “problematic” behaviours apparently tied to autism, ranging from difficulties with eye contact and changes in routine in infancy, to social challenges and emotional deregulation in school-aged years, to struggles managing time and transitions to college and work in late adolescence. Whilst noting that autistic people’s presentations vary widely, the approach of condensing such a multifaceted neurotype down to simplified age-based checklists overlooks that vast diversity of experience and individual uniqueness. It turns the richness of autistic life into a flattened tally chart of deficits presumed to indicate pathology in need of treatment, rather than accepting and empowering the autistic individual.
The effect is that the article, though likely aimed at helping parents and teachers spot signs of autism early for support, inadvertently reinforces an overly clinical view of autism as an intrinsic “disorder” comprised of problematic behaviours warranting correction. By cataloguing an array of developmental abnormalities purportedly linked to autism, it medicalises different ways of being that form part of a natural - and even beneficial - human diversity. What emerges is less an understanding of autistic people than a diagnostic manual of deviations that feed stigma. In essence, the article risks teaching people what is “wrong” with autistics rather than accepting us equitably.
Outdated views on autism
The vocabulary and terminology used throughout the piece instantly stands out as quite medicalised and pathologising regarding autism. Rather than plainly referring to autistic behaviours or ways of perceiving and interacting, the author consistently describes “behaviours associated with autism spectrum disorder.” This phrasing frames such aspects of the autistic experience as symptoms tied to an underlying disorder or affliction in need of identification and treatment from specialists.
Even from the first line, autism’s differences are labelled “signs” and “indicators” as though they indicate illness. This subtly but substantially positions autism itself as intrinsically pathological rather than a natural manifestation of human diversity. Terms like “deregulation” and “delays” in the developmental checklists reinforce this sense of medical abnormality warranting correction.
Moreover, some of the references the author cites seem to promote rather outdated clinical perspectives on autism. Her sources include the American Psychiatric Association's Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM), Fifth Edition, published in 2013 (not the updated DSM 5-TR), alongside a 2006 text entitled “The Complete Guide to Asperger's Syndrome.” Referring to such decades-old characterisations of autism, based on notions of dysfunction rather than accepting neurological variance, likely informs the article’s leaning towards the medical model of disability. An opportunity for conveying more progressive, neurodiversity-aligned understandings of autism seems missed here.
Reductive much?
The way the author boils down our intricately varied spectrum into tidy, age-grouped checklists of ‘symptoms’ is decidedly reductive. She does cursorily acknowledge that autistic people’s presentations differ widely, yet still opts to simplify this profoundly heterogeneous way of being into an almost commodified diagnostic catalogue. Scan for the “red flag” behaviours, match the checklist criteria, and one may just net an autism diagnosis to access support services.
In condensing multidimensional autistic experiences into bite-sized behavioural bullet points, the article treats autism as a marketable product rather than appreciating countless individuated realities. These simplified screening tools might appeal to worried parents desperately seeking answers and intervention services. Yet they overlook autistics’ inherent complexity and mask the shade and texture of authentic life ‘on the spectrum.’
One wonders whether this reductiveness links to capitalist motives as well. Streamlining autism into saleable checklists, screeners, interventions, and specialised treatments ultimately fuels an industry that profits from parents’ fears over their child’s developmental variations. There is far less money to be made, it seems, from simply accepting and empowering autistic people to thrive as their whole, nuanced selves. Yet in commodifying autism as a checklist of problems requiring solutions, the profit-potential is clear - even as autistics’ humanity gets lost in transaction.