Thursday, November 5, 2009

The Divineless Comedy

I suppose it had to come to this, what with the new atheism having become so popular and all. Now we have the Brights movement, and no kidding, you too can register. Hell, what am I saying, I myself can register—apparently I meet all the preconditions.

But Lord have mercy, where is a Kierkegaard when you truly need him? I can hear the Dane laughing already: “And after you have mastered truth is subjectivity—ein, zwei, drei—then you can register as a Bright.”

According to their website, the Brights' first principle (you knew there had to be a first principle) is “We are a constituency of individuals (the registered Brights).” If I were to make a suggestion for a second principle (after registering, of course), it would be “We shalt make closer scrutiny of the words 'constituency' and 'individual,' not to mention a more careful contemplation on the consequences of registration.”

Why Life Is Not a Team Sport

The real conflict is not between science and religion, the real conflict is between collective ignorance and an individual sense of wonder. And in that conflict, Dawkins, the Pope, Behe, Hitchens, Dobson, Harris, Dembski, Grayling, Dennett and the grand ayatollahs are all on the same side.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

The Great Distraction

Here is a reminder for the founding members of the Autism Science Foundation, as well as for the many participants on the Autism Hub who seem to think that lobbying against the anti-vaccination crowd is the same thing as lobbying for autistic individuals:

The enemy of one's enemy is not necessarily a friend.

Or let me try a different word of advice, equally applicable to those fervently anti-vaccination and to those who are fervently anti- the anti-vaccination crowd:

Vaccines have nothing to do with autism.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Stretching the Brain

I would like to take a few moments to discuss an autism research paper that was recently published online by the journal Human Brain Mapping. The paper is entitled Enhanced Visual Processing Contributes to Matrix Reasoning in Autism (Soulières, Dawson, Samson, Barbeau, Sahyoun, Strangman, Zeffiro and Mottron, 2009, hereafter referred to as EVP). As best as I can tell, the full text of EVP, like too much of autism research, is not being made reasonably available to the public; however, for those who are interested, an email request to the lead author will likely net you a pdf copy (that is how I obtained mine). As per usual, I am not entirely comfortable commenting at length about a research article that has not been made accessible to all, but as with other works produced by members associated with Laurent Mottron's research team, I feel these efforts are far too valuable and far too relevant to be left unconsidered. (Maybe one day the Mottron team will be in a position to remove itself from the autism publishing grid and present its insightful work more directly to the public, an action I would certainly recommend.)

Before I summarize the experiment at the heart of EVP and its corresponding results, let me note that in doing so I cannot do justice to the paper itself. One of EVP's main strengths is that it is extremely well produced—very thorough in detail, quite readable for a highly technical subject, and generally even-handed in its interpretations and judgments. For those who have not been exposed to the latest techniques in neuroimaging science, I can highly recommend EVP as an excellent example of what the discipline currently has to offer.

In this particular study, Dr. Soulières' team divided the experimental participants into two groups, 15 autistic participants in one group and 18 non-autistic participants in the other group, the two groups otherwise matched on factors of age, sex, Wechsler IQ scores, and manual preference. Soulières' team also rigged up a test-taking mechanism inside an fMRI scanner, with each participant being made to take first a simple pattern-matching test and then a Raven's Progressive Matrices (RPM) test within that mechanism. Soulières' team then compared the test results and the brain scanning images across the two study groups and interpreted the findings.

The experiment and its findings would have remained straightforward if it were not for an unexpected anomaly in the results. Although the autistic and non-autistic groups scored with similar accuracy on the RPM test, the autistic group was about forty percent quicker on average in completing the test. This led to some discussion about how to interpret the surprising result, and it also spurred the Soulières team to look at the fMRI images in two different ways, one designed to factor out the faster performance effect. In the final analysis, the anomaly was taken as a potentially significant, but not yet fully understood phenomenon, and the fMRI images were judged to be mostly unaffected by the between-group differences in performance times. Finally, getting back to what the experiment was originally designed to measure, the Soulières team judged that the fMRI images revealed some small, but significant neuronal differences between the autistic and non-autistic groups when answering RPM questions, and in particular judged that the autistic group seemed to be displaying a potential bias towards increased (enhanced) use of visual processing mechanisms to aid with reasoning tasks.


When I first read the press reports that came out upon publication of EVP, my initial surprise was not that the autistic group was forty percent quicker in answering RPM questions, my initial surprise was that the autistic group was not more accurate in answering RPM questions. The press reports (indeed, the abstract too) suggested that the autistic group had been matched to the non-autistic group on Wechsler scores and yet had performed with similar accuracy on the RPM questions. This would run counter to previous Mottron team findings, in particular those of The Level and Nature of Autistic Intelligence (Dawson, Soulières, Gernsbacher, and Mottron, 2007), which showed that autistic individuals tend to perform relatively better on RPM tests than on Wechsler exams. The details of EVP, however, appear to reveal a slightly different story than is suggested by the press reports and the abstract. On average, the autistic group scored about 101 on the Wechsler full scale, while the non-autistic group scored about 106, and the autistic group scored with about 76% accuracy on RPM, while the non-autistic group scored around 74%. It is not clear to me if these differences add up to statistical significance (and of course the recruitment procedures of EVP might also have skewed the results—although there is nothing in the paper to suggest this possibility), but an eyeball estimate suggests that the findings of Dawson, et al. still hold, and I suppose if we add in the speedier performance of the autistic group in answering the RPM questions, it seems reasonable to say that autistic individuals continue to show relatively better performance on RPM than would be suggested by their full scale Wechsler scores.


Now, about that faster performance finding.

In some respects, the finding that the autistic group was forty percent faster than the non-autistic group in answering RPM questions is a bit of a distraction within EVP. I can certainly understand why the authors included the finding and discussed it at some length—the between-group difference is too large to simply ignore. On the other hand, there are many factors that make it difficult, if not impossible, to draw any meaningful conclusions from the result.

The first problem of course is that RPM is not a timed test. RPM test takers are instructed to take as much time as is deemed necessary to feel reasonably certain about their answers, and these instructions were the ones given to the EVP participants. Furthermore, all the statistical information ever gathered around RPM has been compiled under conditions of a non-timed test, so in a certain sense, it is a violation of the spirit of RPM to even measure the amount of time it takes a participant to answer the questions, let alone report on those measurements. (Or to put it in perspective, a test taker who gets 35 questions correct in an hour is deemed to have performed better than a test taker who gets 34 questions correct in two minutes flat—speed has simply never been a factor in judging RPM performance.) Indeed, perhaps the first thing to do in determining whether EVP's faster performance finding is meaningful would be to repeat the experiment with a different set of instructions—instructions designed to make it clear that time is being measured and that speedier performance is somehow going to be judged as “better”—and see if those instructions affect the overall results. Such an experiment would of course be an even greater violation of the spirit of RPM, although at this point, I would have to say, in for a penny, in for a pound. None of this is meant as criticism, by the way—again, I understand the reasons the EVP authors reported on the finding—but I also want to make it clear that the entire circumstances of the finding are already resting on shaky ground.

If, however, we put aside those concerns momentarily, we can still discuss tentatively what the faster RPM performance from the autistic group is suggesting, and indeed that is the approach the EVP authors have taken. In short, the EVP authors posit that the faster performance might be indicative of an underlying processing “advantage” in the autistic group, one loosely tied to the visual processing differences seen in the fMRI results. At the same time, the authors are upfront about admitting that it is impossible to rule out, without further investigation, other plausible explanations—explanations that would have little to do with any advantages in reasoning skill. I would tentatively concur with such an analysis, but I would also like to consider a few more details than were discussed in the paper itself.

The test-taking conditions in the EVP experiment are highly unusual. Most people do not take an RPM test within the confines of an fMRI scanner. Such conditions are generally uncomfortable—loud and often claustrophobic—and certain individuals, at least after awhile, might feel highly motivated to answer questions quickly and bring the test to an end (God knows, I would feel that way). If it turns out, for instance, that autistic individuals feel this urge more strongly than do non-autistic individuals, that would explain at least in part their relative haste, but it would also have very little to say about their reasoning skills.

At the other end of the significance scale, one plausible explanation for the between-group time difference relates to a finding from another paper several of the EVP authors participated in: Cognitive Differences in Pictorial Reasoning Between High-Functioning Autism and Asperger's Syndrome (Sahyoun, Soulières, Belliveau, Mottron, and Mody, 2009). In short, that paper demonstrates that autistic individuals appear to favor visuospatial processing strategies over semantic or linguistic strategies, more so than would be the case for non-autistic individuals (and more so than would be the case for Asperger's individuals, but it is important to keep in mind that Asperger's individuals were excluded from the EVP study). Although between-group response times were similar on the simple pattern matching test of EVP, one can surmise that such simple and straightforward visual patterns are going to be processed quickly and similarly by all. The RPM questions, however, are an entirely different story. RPM questions are complex and multi-dimensional, enough so that they can be tackled effectively through a variety of strategies. One approach, for instance, would be to try literally to see the patterns emerge; that is, tackle the problems visually. Another approach would be to talk one's way through the problem; e.g., “there are three dots in the upper left in the first square, there are just two dots in the middle in the second square, and so there must be one dot in the lower right in the last square, …”; that is, tackle the problem with a linguistic or semantic strategy (this is the manner in which I would approach RPM problems, for instance). Both strategies, and perhaps others as well, can be effective in determining the correct answer, but given that the RPM test is visually set, it would seem reasonable to surmise that those using a visually based strategy might have a built-in advantage for being quicker, because there is less cognitive translation required for such an effort. (This, by the way, would justify the decision to set RPM as a non-timed test.)

Such an explanation would actually fit in quite nicely with EVP's thesis that autistic individuals rely more heavily on visual processing abilities in the performance of reasoning tasks, but such an explanation would also present the EVP authors with a potentially confounding issue—namely, is the EVP experiment picking up a true autistic versus non-autistic reasoning difference, or is it instead picking up a visuospatial style versus semantic style difference? That question would extend to the fMRI results as well, so it is important to give it some consideration. The fact that autistic individuals may be more visual in their approach to problem solving than non-autistic individuals is certainly interesting and significant, but I am not sure that by itself it captures what is frequently meant by autistic versus non-autistic reasoning skills. If, for instance, visually-oriented non-autistic individuals show similar performance and fMRI patterns as autistic individuals, then the whole notion that EVP is capturing a true autistic versus non-autistic reasoning difference becomes far more doubtful.

In the end, the 40% greater efficiency finding, although much ballyhooed in the press reports, still represents little more than a tempting sideshow at the moment, with a whole host of possibilities lined up to account for the surprising result. Perhaps Dr. Soulières' team will in the future have the opportunity to explore the discovery in greater detail, and maybe then we can draw some more definitive conclusions.


And now back to the regularly scheduled programming.

The main purpose of EVP is to compare autistic versus non-autistic brain activity during the performance of a complex reasoning task. This is in keeping with the vernacular that the autistic brain is somehow “wired” differently, and in particular, EVP explores the hypothesis that autistic individuals make greater use of perceptual (especially visual) neural processing mechanisms during cognitive tasks.

There is an interesting historical background to this hypothesis that I want to take some time to recall. In 2006, an unusual paper was published in the Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders called Enhanced Perceptual Functioning in Autism: an Update, and Eight Principles of Autistic Perception (Mottron, Dawson, Soulières, Hubert, Burack, 2006, hereafter referred to as EPF). I say unusual, because EPF is perhaps the most schismatic research paper I have yet to encounter. If one were to remove principles 6 and 7 (and to some extent, principle 5) from that paper, all that would remain is a straightforward description of autistic cognition as biased towards local processing and detail discrimination, possibly caused by a different brain structure biased towards enhanced perceptual processing. This is an interesting and somewhat novel approach, yet it is not all that different in kind from other research-oriented descriptions of autistic behavior and cognition, and is not all that applicable in a broader and anthropological sense. But injected right into the middle of this rather dry description of autistic psychiatry and neurology comes suddenly a fascinating use of the characteristics of savant syndrome to highlight the distinctive perceptual characteristics of autistic thinking, replete with an enlightening new emphasis on the role that environmental patterns, symmetries and structure can play in the development and presentation of savant and autistic cognition. Furthermore, this discussion of principles 6 and 7 takes on an entirely different tone from the rest of the paper, for suddenly gone is the over reliance on psychiatric and experimental literature, and in its place is substituted a more conceptual description of autistic perception and cognition. In the modern sense of the word, this discussion is less “scientific” than the rest of EPF, but it is also demonstrably more fruitful and broadly applicable, to the point of being anthropologically stunning. In EPF, principles 6 and 7 appear like a bolt from the blue.

I have written elsewhere about these two aspects of EPF (one aspect which I have clearly enjoyed, one aspect which I am less thrilled about), but it is important to note that if in the year 2006, EPF was like a cell getting ready to divide, by 2009 that division has been thoroughly accomplished. Members associated with Laurent Mottron's research team have published two significant papers this year. First, in Enhanced Perception in Savant Syndrome: Patterns, Structure, and Creativity (Mottron, Dawson, Soulières, 2009, hereafter referred to as EPSS), the team has put together a more complete reflection upon EPF's principles 6 and 7, backed now by a richer catalog of case studies, but still essentially a conceptual description of autistic perception, as opposed to being a scientific hypothesis supported by a plethora of experimental evidence. In contrast, they have also published EVP, the paper under discussion here, one that more clearly aligns to those aspects of EPF that were concentrated on the psychiatry and neurology behind enhanced perceptual processing, an effort now being supported in the most direct manner possible by the techniques of experimental science.

Of course, it is possible the members of the Mottron team do not appreciate my attempts to divide their work so thoroughly down the middle—I suspect they might see their two recent papers as simply different views onto a model they conceive of as constituting a whole. But I want to insist upon making the distinction, because from my point of view I see one of these approaches as holding the potential for providing abundant knowledge about the nature of autism—as well as providing abundant knowledge about the nature of mankind—whereas I see the other approach leading mostly to a scientific dead end. Since I have already written abundantly and effusively about the unlimited value to be found inside the pages of EPSS, let me now correspondingly add my reasons for believing that the findings of EVP hold a high likelihood of leading nowhere.


The problem is not with EVP itself. As I have said, EVP is extremely well done, and in many respects we owe a debt of gratitude to Dr. Soulières and her team for demonstrating the leading edge of what neuroimaging has to offer for providing an affirmative description of the characteristics of the autistic brain. That I believe these efforts ultimately reveal very little is to be attributed more directly to the shortcomings of neuroscience itself—and neuroimaging in particular—disciplines that, despite their widely advertised promise, are constructed upon logical foundations that are dubious at best. Therefore let me use the findings of EVP to explore the current state of neuroimaging science, and let me see if the discipline really has that much to offer in the way of helping us narrow in on the qualities of autistic intelligence and reasoning. There are many logical and conceptual problems I might list, but let me start with just these:

The neural activity of autistic and non-autistic individuals is far more similar than it is different, a fact that is not given its true weight in assessments of the brain's role in human cognitive tasks. EVP admits to the large overall similarity between autistic and non-autistic neural activity during RPM tasks, but since it does so with only a single sentence or two, and then devotes its remaining sentences to a thorough analysis of the subtle distinctions, I think it is important to take a step back and put things in proper perspective. If we are to believe the assumption that the brain is the primary source of reasoning/intelligence activities, then all neural activity observed during a reasoning task must be given its due weight, and on that basis alone, we would have to conclude that autistics and non-autistics cognate in essentially the same manner, the differences being slight at best. That is what the overall fMRI evidence strongly suggests.

Of course, there are known domains in which marginal differences can be important, but that tends to happen only when the entity under study leverages a much larger context. That larger context, however, is exactly what modern neuroscience does not consider. Cognitive scientists study the human brain so intensely because for them the human brain is the alpha and omega of human cognitive activity—all the secrets are to be found within the confines of the human skull. In consequence, cognitive scientists are left with an overriding conundrum of how to explain wholesale cognitive distinctions on the basis of only minor-scale neural differences. That conundrum is on full display in EVP.

Neuroimaging technology is still extremely crude, its expense notwithstanding. A nice touch within the EVP paper is its inclusion of a set of fMRI composites, pictures that might easily dazzle the reader if they were not by comparison—comparison to the pictures of a disposable camera, for instance—so incredibly crude. Indeed, such a comparison is extremely apt, for a tourist taking snapshots of the Parthenon, let's say, can record a wealth of accurate detail about human intelligence and reasoning—structure, pattern, style, history, and the like; and although neuroscientists no doubt desire to reveal a similar set of cognitive characteristics, even at a more nuanced level of detail, it is hard to make those kinds of distinctions when dealing with little more than a collection of colorful blobs.

I suspect the reason most people are dazzled by fMRI pictures, and the reason most scientists place such incredible faith in their fMRI results—despite the obvious coarseness of the data—is because the technology is so darned sophisticated and new, not to mention so darned expensive; technology costing that much and qualifying as a genuine modern medical marvel must surely have something significant to impart. But of course such reasoning is not an example of brilliant science: it is instead a textbook example of a logical fallacy. The price and sophistication of the equipment has nothing to do with the value of its output; only the quality of the resulting data can have a bearing on its importance, and on that basis, neuroimaging still has an incredibly long ways to go.

It is easy to confuse neural difference with neural causation, a mistake neuroscientists will make at the drop of a hat. Let me demonstrate with an analogy. Imagine a tribe of people in which a small minority of children are trained from birth to become high jumpers. They practice, they work with weights, they compete—a good portion of their early life is devoted to gaining an extra defiance of the planet's gravity. Then a naïve group of researchers decides to study this tribe of people, and in particular wishes to discover what turns some of these people into such unusually prodigious leapers. They do this study by performing muscle scans on comparison groups of high jumpers versus non-high jumpers as the participants progress through a series of physical activities, and the published findings reveal that the high jumping group has some small but significant differences in their quadricep, hamstring and calf muscle systems.

Now if the researchers stopped there, there would be no problem: they are simply reporting the data. But of course we know the researchers will not stop there, we know precisely what is coming next. The researchers will then announce, with great fanfare, that the muscle distinctions they have discovered in the high jumping group are the actual cause of the high jumping phenomenon. (And if we were to extend this analogy to autism science, the researchers would next propose some surgical procedures whereby to remove the muscle differences and return the high jumpers back to normal.)

The crux of the Mottron team's enhanced perceptual functioning hypothesis turns on whether that hypothesis is meant as a description or an explanation. A description I would not mind at all, but an explanation I object to vehemently. It is not always clear to me where the Mottron team stands on this distinction, but if the title of EVP is to be given any weight, then I suspect the team is tilting in the wrong direction.

Few people would disagree that autistics and non-autistics cognate differently, and so neural differences are certainly to be expected (indeed, perhaps the most surprising finding in EVP is the neural similarity observed on the simple pattern matching task). But of course autistics cognate differently right from birth, and so when we take fMRIs of their brain activity many years later, we have no way of easily assessing whether we are observing neural causes or neural effects. Under the circumstances, I would think the latter would get initial preference, but then again, I am not a neuroscientist.

The lack of any plausible mechanism connecting neural activity to observable cognitive behavior allows neuroscientists unfettered creativity in explaining their results. Scientists, quite rightly, dismiss the vaccines-causes-autism hypothesis by noting there is no plausible mechanism connecting the ingredients and actions of vaccines with the observable behaviors of autistic individuals. Then those very same scientists will turn right around and promote the output of their neuroimaging studies as explanations for certain types of observable cognitive activity. Simply amazing.

Near the end of EVP, in the section entitled “Origin of Neural Differences in Matrix Reasoning Between Autistics and Non-Autistics,” the EVP authors attempt to explain how their neural findings might give rise to certain types of autistic cognitive behavior. They do this mostly by appealing to the findings of other neuroscience studies, studies focused on such things as white matter microstructure and functional connectivity differences, studies which have found that autistic individuals seem to have less neural connectivity between, for instance, the prefrontal and occipital regions of the brain. The authors then lend their support to some theorizing that suggests this reduced connectivity produces compensatory activity in perceptual mechanisms, leading perhaps to a unique autistic cognitive signature. All this sounds scientific enough, but note what would happen if, for the sake of argument, the other neuroscience studies had found something entirely different, for instance that autistics had an overabundance of connectivity between the prefrontal and occipital regions. Would this turn everyone's theorizing around 180 degrees? Well, of course not, not at all. What would then happen is that we would get some kind of explanation about how the abundant connectivity was too much, too overwhelming, producing the equivalent of a neural traffic jam, and the compensatory activity of the perceptual mechanisms was therefore like taking an alternative route to work. In point of fact, it would not matter if autistics displayed under-connectivity, over-connectivity, or had their synapses tied together with pink, curly bows, neuroscientists would use whatever they found to cook up some type of explanation about the differential cognitive activity of autistic individuals. And what, you ask, could possibly give rise to such an unlimited degree of explanatory freedom? Well, what gives rise to this phenomenon is that neuroscientists have no plausible mechanism linking the neural activity they measure in their studies to the observable cognitive behavior of actual human beings. The conceptual gap here is at least as wide as that between thimerosal and autism—perhaps much wider—and into the space of that gap neuroscientists feel free to insert whatever convenient explanation they like. And boy do they ever!

Neuroscience remains blissfully ignorant of human history, and in particular remains blissfully ignorant of the Flynn effect. This seems to be a blind spot for all of neuroscience, but is particularly relevant for the experiment conducted in EVP. The type of intelligence being measured with RPM has undergone a rapid increase through the latter half of the twentieth century, an increase almost certainly experienced by both the autistic and non-autistic populations (indeed, experienced by all human populations). Furthermore, as I have pointed out elsewhere, there is no reason to believe the Flynn effect is restricted to the twentieth century alone: how well can we expect an average human to have scored on an RPM-type test say ten thousand years ago? No, the Flynn effect has been with humanity since at least the time of the great leap forward, and so any direct observations being made of human intelligence and reasoning—even neuroimaging observations—are observations of a phenomenon that, historically speaking, has been exceptionally non-static.

Thus do we want to insist that we can literally see human reasoning and intelligence within the biology of the human brain? How are we to accommodate evolutionarily static brain biology to an historically non-static Flynn effect? And note that these problems are actually doubled in EVP, which by positing two different neural reasoning mechanisms for the human brain, one autistic and one not, leaves the biological problem of the Flynn effect now to be answered times two.

Yes, there is observable neural activity during the performance of an RPM task, but does that neural activity equate to human reasoning and intelligence? The evidence of the Flynn effect votes a resounding no.


Nearly all the above-listed problems can be traced to one overriding logical fallacy, namely the unquestioned acceptance that human brain activity is sufficient to explain human cognitive functioning. The widespread belief in this assumption competes only with the notion that evolution explains every biological and cultural process for being modern science's greatest logical misstep. Such widespread belief is, to put it simply, a clear and massive instance of assuming what needs to be shown.

I have tried to demonstrate in several places (for instance here and here) that much of human cognition—intelligence, learning, language, etc.—can be more accurately and more fruitfully described by appealing not to the workings of the human brain, but instead by appealing to the fast-changing, self-constructed form of the human environment (and the members of the Mottron team too have been making that demonstration within the pages of EPSS—whether they realize it or not). I am open to a valid criticism of that argument, just as I am open to any effective demonstration of neural causation for human cognitive activity. But when the debate is always conducted as though the answer is already known, I find it nearly impossible to achieve any meaningful progress.

I am not certain where this unquestioned reliance on the human brain has come from. Perhaps it has originated out of those case studies where someone has been damaged in a section of their brain (Broca's Area, for example) and has correspondingly lost a portion of their cognitive functioning (their speech, for instance). But I assure you, if I yank someone's heart from out of their chest, they will also lose a good portion of their cognitive activity, but that does not justify my making the cardiovascular system the ultimate explanation for human reasoning and intelligence. It is hard to believe so many scientists cannot make the proper distinction between the concepts of necessity and sufficiency, but sad to say, when it comes to human cognition and the human brain, that mistake is nearly universal.


In conclusion, I confess to some ambivalence when I see Dr. Soulières, Dr. Mottron, and the rest of their colleagues listed as authors on an autism-specific neuroimaging study. On the one hand, they are doing me an immense favor, for a brain-specific approach to describing autistic cognition presents a sharp challenge to many of my own ideas about autism, a challenge that, in the interest of achieving greater acuity, I gladly welcome. And since I do not have the resources or means (or desire, for that matter) to conduct such studies myself, I am pleased to see them being conducted by scientists whose intelligence and integrity I can trust. The members of the Mottron team have built a rich history of providing positive, creative and informative insights into the nature of autism, and to the extent any neuroimaging approach might advance our understanding of the autistic brain, I suspect that team will achieve the goal as well as any other. EVP's authors are to be congratulated for their careful and considered effort.

But on the other hand, from a more practical point of view, I know time and resources are limited, and there are still so many autistic individuals in need of a greater understanding. The poignancy here is that the Mottron team has already developed an alternative approach to describing autism that possesses nearly unlimited potential for providing greater insight. Outside the confines of mainstream autism science, and outside the confines of the human skull, the Mottron team has been advancing an understanding of autistic individuals through an appeal to the autistic cognitive environment, an environment best described through the surrounding presence of pattern, structure and form. In my opinion, that effort possesses no discernible bounds: it holds promise for describing autistic individuals as they truly are, and it holds promise for revealing the remarkable influence of autistic cognition upon the entire human species.

If the Mottron team wishes to supplement these excellent ideas by exploring neuroscience as well, it is not for me to make an objection. But I hope they will at least consider my challenges to the foundations of neuroscience; I hope they will at least consider that a brain-based approach is almost certainly going to be more limited. The glory of autistic individuals, including the glory of their surprising impact upon the human population, is to be discovered in the abundance of their surrounding cognitive circumstances, and not in what exists inside their heads.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

The Context of Neuroimaging

One does not understand an accounting program by taking electronic measurement of all the chips, wires and disks. Strangely enough, one needs to know something about accounting before any of those readings make sense.

Friday, October 9, 2009

The Massive Hunt

As we approach an ever more accurate assessment of autism's prevalence within the human population, the cry grows ever more shrill to identify autism's environmental cause. Never mind that we have been searching diligently for that cause for more than a decade now and have yet to find its first trace. Never mind all that, because autism has unquestionably reached an epidemic stage, and with autism such a devastating illness, especially untreated, we could not have overlooked its devastating consequences in all the years before (and no, there is no need to question such obvious assumptions). Look harder, look faster: autism's environmental cause has to be there.


In the late nineteenth century, scientists embarked on a massive hunt for the luminiferous ether. Never mind that they had been searching diligently for the ether for quite some time and had yet to find its first trace. Never mind all that, because light's properties were unquestionably those of waves, and with the characteristics of space, time and energy so well understood, the absence of a propagating medium was something quite unthinkable (and no, there was no need to question such obvious assumptions). The scientists looked harder, looked faster: the luminiferous ether had to be there.

The Massive Hunt Redux

While we are on the topic of searches both far and wide, let me highlight again the bad news for those who have made finding the genetic cause of autism their life's pursuit: when Mark Blaxill can legitimately blow a hole in your most advanced research, you know something about your assumptions has gone horribly wrong.

(By the way, has anyone discovered yet how to get Mr. Blaxill to apply his analytic prowess to his own irrational theories?)

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Carving Up the Spectrum

Harold Doherty yearns for the day when the autism spectrum can be amputated of all who do not meet his personal criteria for being low-functioning and severe. But note how odd his argument sounds when juxtaposed to the very evidence Mr. Doherty calls on his own behalf. Mr. Doherty says: the “I Am Autism” video is directed at the depiction of some of the harsh realities that often accompany Autistic Disorder.

But in point of fact, that video contradicts Mr. Doherty's yearning. “I Am Autism” presents a fairly sizable number of individuals, and I am certain if their diagnoses were checked, not all would have Autistic Disorder. More than likely, the individuals presented in the “I Am Autism” video would represent quite the range of current outcomes—from those Mr. Doherty might characterize as low-functioning or severe, to those many would agree are high functioning, or perhaps even (gasp) Aspergers.

Ironically enough, it is the producers of “I Am Autism” who gather these individuals under the common heading of autism. It is the producers of “I Am Autism” who see no reason to make any distinction. For them, autism of any kind is something inherently evil—something to be battled against and eradicated forthwith.

It is true, Mr. Doherty, that the producers of “I Am Autism” would indeed amputate from the autism spectrum all who do not meet your personal criteria for being low-functioning and severe. But they are not going to stop just there—they are going to amputate all the rest.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Geraldine Dawson's Reply

[Dr. Geraldine Dawson has replied, in a manner of speaking, to my open letter to her. It is a stock reply, one that I imagine is similar to others being sent out by Autism Speaks at this time. It is reproduced in its entirety below. My response can be found in the comments.]



Dear Mr. Griswold,

Thank you very much for sending me your letter and telling me about your perspective and feelings regarding the “I Am Autism” video. I understand and respect your perspective and I am truly sorry that the film offended you. The video was not intended to reflect Autism Speaks broader viewpoint or attitude toward persons with autism spectrum disorder. Rather, it was created by two fathers of children with autism – Billy Mann, a Grammy-nominated songwriter, music producer and Autism Speaks board member, and Alfonso Cuarón, an Academy award-nominated film director. It is based on a personal poem written by Mr. Mann. It is an intensely personal expression by these two fathers. It was their hope that the piece would inspire other voices and artists in the autism community. It has greatly offended some people, however, and we have removed it from our website.

Again, thank you for writing to me and sharing your thoughts. You can rest assured that I will continue to advocate for a respectful and compassionate attitude and support for persons with autism spectrum disorder.


Sincerely,

Geri Dawson

Friday, September 25, 2009

Laurent Mottron's Reply

[Dr. Laurent Mottron has replied to my open letter to him, and has given his permission for that reply to be posted here.]


I see three alternative ways to change a damaging system/ideology: fight it directly, build something else which is more convincing, or lastly, become the head of this system, then change it. I would call the last one the gorbachevian position. Whereas I used the first two ways at various levels (specially in our clinical organization, and in various influences we have as policy makers in Quebec), I chose the third way for science. Because no scientific person will listen to you if you are not one of them. So we apply to regular journals, and to regular peer-reviewed grant committees.

I have the same profound repulsion for this video as all of you have. I do not fear the possible consequences on the neutrality of the Autism Speaks jury because of public declarations against some aspect of their work - you know that Gadfly repeatedly writes that Autism Speaks should not finance us. But in the meantime, I will go on applying to these committees, and spend their money when we get it, for the best research we can do with it. For example, I. Soulières' fMRI paper has been financed by these funds. I profoundly think that the long-term effect of this research is more important than the ethical issue raised by the way AS gets this money.

Lastly, this organization (Autism Speaks) is heterogeneous. Its peer review committee functions according to democratic, non-ostracizing and scientific rules, although parts of Autism Speaks' ideology and fund-raising style are terrible. Overall, I do not feel condemned to a global rejection of this organization.

L. Mottron

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

An Open Letter to Geraldine Dawson

September 23, 2009


Dr. Geraldine Dawson

Chief Science Officer

Autism Speaks


Dr. Dawson,

I am calling on you to denounce the Autism Speaks video “I Am Autism” as hostile and offensive to autistic individuals, and I am calling on you to reconsider your employment with Autism Speaks, an organization that is exploitative of autistic individuals, and unscientific and unethical in its day-to-day practices and fund-raising campaigns.

As the parent of an autistic child who is loved deeply for all his characteristics, including—indeed, most especially—his autism, I can tell you that the “I Am Autism” video is disgusting on every level. It perpetuates stereotypes, it presents as fact statements that are not backed by a shred of scientific evidence, and it exploits the images of autistic individuals without their consent. The video is heinously reminiscent of the NYU Child Study Center's widely condemned Ransom Notes campaign, and it demonstrates the depths of cruelty and ignorance to which an autism charitable organization can sink when that organization deliberately excludes the input and participation of autistic individuals.

A similar exploitative and offensive treatment of a different minority group would be considered tantamount to a hate crime (for instance, can you imagine how a similar “I Am Homosexuality” video would be received): it is no less of a hate crime when it is autistic individuals who are the victims of such abuse.

Your association with this video, as well as your association with the organization that stands behind it, calls into question more than just your reputation as a scientist. It calls into question your very humanity. Denounce this video. Use your influence as an officer of Autism Speaks to demand both its removal and the immediate issuance of an apology. And if such efforts do not succeed, I call on you to consider the wisdom of your continuing employment with such a repulsive organization.

The harmful practices of Autism Speaks survive only on the tacit approval of those who should know better. It is not too late for you to make a difference: remove your tacit approval.


Respectfully and urgently,

Alan Griswold

An Open Letter to Laurent Mottron

September 23, 2009


Dr. Laurent Mottron

Centre de recherche Fernand-Seguin

Hopital Riviere-des-Prairies

Montreal, Canada


Dr. Mottron,

I am calling on you to denounce the Autism Speaks video “I Am Autism” as hostile and offensive to autistic individuals, and I am calling on you to reconsider your acceptance of funding from Autism Speaks, an organization that is exploitative of autistic individuals, and unscientific and unethical in its day-to-day practices and fund-raising campaigns.

As the parent of an autistic child who is loved deeply for all his characteristics, including—indeed, most especially—his autism, I can tell you that the “I Am Autism” video is disgusting on every level. It perpetuates stereotypes, it presents as fact statements that are not backed by a shred of scientific evidence, and it exploits the images of autistic individuals without their consent. The video is heinously reminiscent of the NYU Child Study Center's widely condemned Ransom Notes campaign, and it demonstrates the depths of cruelty and ignorance to which an autism charitable organization can sink when that organization deliberately excludes the input and participation of autistic individuals.

As you know, I hold the work of both you and your research team in the very highest regard. Your efforts have contributed to the knowledge about the strengths of autistic individuals and have highlighted the many positive contributions autistic individuals have to make. While I understand the difficult task you face in running a research enterprise and in obtaining adequate funding for your work, you must realize that accepting significant money from Autism Speaks, an organization openly hostile and offensive to autistic individuals, serves only to undercut the very nature of your work. No matter how alluring or seemingly harmless such funding might initially appear, in the end association with an organization such as Autism Speaks becomes all too obviously, and all too tragically, a pact with the devil.

Openly denounce the “I Am Autism” video. Use your influence as a respected autism scientist to urge your colleagues to do the same. And if your efforts to reform the deeds of Autism Speaks do not succeed, I call on you to reconsider the wisdom of continuing to accept funding from such a repulsive organization.

The harmful practices of Autism Speaks survive only on the tacit approval of those who should know better. It is not too late for you to make a difference: remove your tacit approval.


Respectfully and urgently,

Alan Griswold

Saturday, September 19, 2009

On the Evils of Co-authorship

Tyler Cowen and Michelle Dawson are both excellent writers. Although I am only recently familiar with Mr. Cowen's work, the popularity of both his blog and his books speaks for itself, and in reading through samples of Cowen's accessible, yet information-packed prose, I can understand how his appeal has become both broad and respected. Furthermore, Cowen recently penned a truly remarkable essay entitled Autism as Academic Paradigm, which infuses a surprising breath of fresh air into the musty, platitude-filled discussions surrounding autism as disorder and disease. My heartiest congratulations to Mr. Cowen for that invigorating effort.

And Michelle Dawson, in her own unique fashion, has also revealed an exceptional talent for the written word. As evidence I need search no further than her early paper The Misbehaviour of Behaviourists, which for whatever flaws of inexperience it might happen to reveal, still stands in my opinion as perhaps the finest example of autism-related literature yet to be crafted.

So individually, Cowen and Dawson need never fear for their abilities as writers. But as co-authors? Well, here I am not so sure.


Mr. Cowen and Ms. Dawson have recently co-written a paper entitled What Does the Turing Test Really Mean? And How Many Human Beings (Including Turing) Could Pass? Now let me be clear: I do not want to dissuade anyone from reading that paper, for it certainly contains some valuable and innovative suggestions about yet another paper, Alan Turing's lovely essay entitled Computing Machinery and Intelligence, written for the journal Mind back in 1950. Cowen and Dawson open a new perspective on Turing's work, highlighting how Turing's casual argument has as much to tell us about anthropomorphism, education, ostracism and the like, as it has to say about artificial intelligence. Perhaps I as much as anyone else can appreciate that particular aspect of the Cowen and Dawson paper, for I too have been puzzled as to why it has been primarily (if not solely) the Turing test that history has chosen to hand down from Computing Machinery and Intelligence, when in fact the essay itself seems to be pointing in such a large variety of directions. Cowen and Dawson have my gratitude for helping me feel not so alone in that particular puzzlement.

Yet for all its merits in pointing out these wide-ranging aspects of Computing Machinery and Intelligence, the Cowen and Dawson paper still comes off as something of a disappointment. It is not any specific content that spurs my concern; in truth, it is more a question of structure and tone. For a paper that purports to offer a significantly different perspective on Turing's widely read and assumed-to-be widely understood essay, Cowen and Dawson remain remarkably circumspect in their overall approach. The paper's introduction barely tiptoes to its main point, and where the argument might then spring forth as suddenly decisive and bold, it instead continues to pull all its punches, content to offer little more than hints and suggestions about Turing's possible intentions, as though the real wallop were to be found in the secondary sources (it is not). Then in further deference to convention, as though they have already offended too much, Cowen and Dawson choose to adopt many of the accouterments of academic scholarship for their paper, when scholarship appears to be the last thing required. (I would note that when Turing himself resorts to some academic garb—the Thomas Aquinas reference, for instance—as though he had been assured at least a dab of this were necessary, he comes off as somewhat awkward and naïve, and thus decidedly adorable; whereas when Cowen and Dawson accurately employ the structures and paradigms of modern scholarship, they come off as professional and authoritative, and thus decidedly not adorable.)

In the end, the Cowen and Dawson paper sounds fractured and hesitant to me, a bit like subversive treatise meets philosophical fireside chat meets undergraduate term paper. Or to put it more concisely, if I were to use just a single word to describe what seems to be missing from the Cowen and Dawson paper, that word would have to be voice.

And in this sense, it would be useful to compare the Cowen and Dawson paper to its target subject. For the Turing essay too is in many ways not a thing of beauty: it meanders, it is far too self-conscious, its phrasing at times can reach the point of painful awkwardness. Yet for all that, Turing's essay reads with considerable charm, and the source of that charm never strays far from view. What drives Computing Machinery and Intelligence, what holds it together in both substance and form, is the intensely focused, abundantly original intellect standing nakedly exposed behind all its scattered conjecture. Turing takes what might have been construed as (and too often is) simply a technical subject, and turns it into a daring, heartfelt cry against the confines of human convention. Turing's essay has personality at its core, a personality that pervades the essay's entire length—its style, its arguments, even its flaws. Hell, that personality pervades all the proposed machines!

The Cowen and Dawson paper is useful because it highlights these characteristics of Computing Machinery and Intelligence, suggesting to readers that they set aside their usual interest in machine intelligence for at least a moment, and concentrate instead on that unusual, misunderstood, yet utterly brilliant intellect haunting the pages of Turing's essay. And yet ironically enough, it is precisely that characteristic, the one they themselves are pointing out, that is conspicuously absent from the Cowen and Dawson paper itself. Whereas in Turing's essay we encounter bold challenges, offbeat drama and cheeky jokes, in Cowen and Dawson we are subjected to academic innuendo, deference to authority, and a reference list. Whereas the Turing essay is held together by the intense, subversive and naïve charm of a uniquely driven mind, the Cowen and Dawson paper is held together mostly by the conventions of community—in this case, a community of two.


In Tyler Cowen's recent book, Create Your Own Economy: the Path to Prosperity in a Disordered World (a one-author book that is a pretty decent read, by the way), Cowen trumpets the virtues of humanity's new era of massively promulgated information and ubiquitous intercommunication—our brave new world of digital catalogs, search engines, social networks and even Twitter. And far be it from me to disparage anything about these recent innovations, for after all, I am one of those who make a comfortable living navigating the paths of this now electronically intertwined world. But as we continue celebrating these newfound abilities to sort through reams of cascading data, to search for exciting new patterns within a seeming chaos of information, and to enjoy fulfilling opportunities to, yes, more easily collaborate, let us not forget that there remains also—as there always has—an alternative, seemingly less efficient means whereby to achieve significant human advancement.

What is needed sometimes is not more, but less. When floods of information turn into common, all-too-familiar property of all, when searched-for patterns atrophy into nothing but a well-worn groove, when massive collaboration coagulates into a massive conventionality, what is needed then is not further speeding up of the process, not a more abundant reaping of more copious detail, not a greater efficiency at talking things through. What is needed then is something quite different—radically different, I would say, and yet remarkably close at hand. What is needed then is the kind of insight that might be found only in circumstances of near loneliness—say in empty corridors tread well beyond midnight, or perhaps on the gravelly paths of unaccompanied runs about Bletchley Park.

Collaboration, teamwork, co-authorship—I admit they have their place, they can have their value. But when the purpose is revolutionary, even in the smallest degree, how radical can any idea be when it is already shared by more than one. As this world becomes informationally richer and as we gather more detail into an ever more populated space, let us not forget that what brought us into these circumstances, what dragged us out of our animal past and into the glory of a near infinite future, was not the conventionality of community, but instead the daringly unconventional voice of the solitary individual.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

A Broad Survey of Autism Research Journals

Is it my imagination, or should the Journal of Neurodevelopmental Disorders be renamed Rodent Quarterly?

And while we are at it, why is Research in Autism Spectrum Disorders not called The Matson Mouthpiece?

And did I miss an announcement or something? About the discovery of the molecular basis for autism? For I see we are soon to be graced with a new research journal, Molecular Autism, so I assume there is reason to believe that title makes sense. (Or am I misunderstanding, and this is actually slated to be a fiction review?)


I agree with those who would urge a greater familiarity with the autism science. Now if they would just tell me where I could find some.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Logic for Autistics

As a subject of investigation, logic has undergone a surge in development over the past one hundred fifty years, resulting in enhanced clarification of the topic and a wider application to much of human endeavor. Iconic names such as Boole, Peirce, Frege, Russell, Wittgenstein, Tarski and Gödel all have contributed groundbreaking insights, their advancements leading not only to transformations within the field of logic itself, but spawning also concomitant reappraisals in such areas as mathematics, science and linguistics. This past century and a half has seen logic's golden era.

Yet for all that, critical questions remain unresolved at logic's core. To put it bluntly, we still have not found an effective way to describe fundamentally what gives rise to logical properties, and perhaps just as importantly, we have yet to uncover a plausible explanation for how logic must have originated in man. How is it that humanity has come to possess logical abilities, given that the other animal species display no evidence of possessing similar abilities, and given that the arrival of these characteristics in man—at least their effective arrival—seems to have occurred only quite recently in the species' history?

These questions regarding logic's elemental traits have been pondered by a variety of logicians and philosophers, but in truth only a few have attempted to tackle the problem head on, and only one, Wittgenstein, has danced daringly close to an accurate answer. There is good reason these questions have remained unresolved: in retrospect, we are beginning to realize logicians and philosophers have been hampered in their efforts to understand logic's nature because they have been missing a vital piece of information, and without that piece of information they have been making the tacit assumption that logic must have arisen from an homogeneous form of human perception and cognition. It is only in the last few decades that humanity has begun to realize this tacit assumption is not altogether true and has begun to recognize within itself the condition that stands as the key to unlocking logic's core, a condition that reveals, most crucially, the nature of humanity's surprising cognitive composition.

In this essay I will attempt to shed light on the nature of logic's most fundamental characteristics, and I will offer an answer to the question of how logic first originated in man. I will address these matters not so much logically and philosophically as I will describe them biologically and anthropologically; for in short, it is autism that stands as the key to understanding logic. The thesis of this essay is that logic's fundamental characteristics are generated naturally and spontaneously out of the biological circumstances of autistic perception.


History. In the Western tradition, logic was dominated for more than two millennia by Aristotle's Organon and its emphasis on syllogistic reasoning. The Organon sounds surprisingly modern given its age of origin, but it also lacks enough expressive power to represent the full range of human cognition and inference, and thus in the mid-nineteenth century a revolution began that would quickly overthrow syllogistic logic's enduring reign.

The first stirrings of this revolution can be seen in the work of George Boole, who in likening his laws of thought to the operations of mathematics began a process of treating logic as a type of calculus, one best represented and best manipulated under the guise of a formal symbolism. Shortly thereafter and independently of each other, Charles Sanders Peirce in the United States and Gottlob Frege in Germany introduced several techniques that greatly expanded logic's expressive range—the use of quantifiers, a greater emphasis on relations, and a rigorous employment of functions and variables to illuminate the role of various logical elements. By the time such techniques were gathered under the compilative work of Bertrand Russell, who himself would add important insights on the process of denoting, logic had gained enough expressive power to state precisely nearly all the meaningful assertions that could be made under the headings of inference, mathematics and objective science, and it was upon this foundation that twentieth century logicians Alfred Tarski and Kurt Gödel applied logical technique to logic itself (metalogic) and developed surprising and paradoxical results regarding the power and range of any deductive calculus. Riding the crest of these many developments, modern logic would blossom by the end of the twentieth century (blossom too much, some might say) into a multi-faceted academic industry.

As can be gleaned from the above description, the majority of logic's recent developments have had the effect of changing the manner in which logic is done, but occasionally there have been logicians who have also paused to ask more fundamental questions, in particular to ask what exactly do these new logical developments mean, how are they to be related to human cognition and to the qualities of the experienced world. Gottlob Frege, for instance, frequently pondered the philosophical context of his logical and mathematical innovations, and in such classic works as Concept and Object, On Sense and Reference, and Thought: A Logical Investigation, Frege brings new perspectives to bear upon the notions of meaning, sense, language, object, concept, truth and world. One unusual and highly suggestive aspect of Frege's philosophy is the degree to which he strives ruthlessly to objectify his particular brand of logic. In positing True and False as actual objects of the external world, and in insisting again and again that non-scientific accounts (the stories of the Odyssey, for instance) possess sense but no actual reference, Frege appears to be making a determined effort to banish everything subjective from the privileged domains of logic, mathematics and scientific discourse; and one is left with the distinct impression that Frege's ultimate goal was to purify logic of every last ounce of human influence, as though such influence could only serve to mess things up.

Frege, along with Bertrand Russell, also had the noteworthy impact of inspiring and encouraging a young Ludwig Wittgenstein. Wittgenstein differs markedly from the other figures in logic's recent history in that he was never interested in developing logic so much as he was driven to describe it and to explain its role (its office, as he was inclined to say). And in a type of subconscious loyalty to his principle regarding the need to show instead of say, Wittgenstein throughout his far-ranging, sometimes fast-changing philosophical career seems to have embodied his most valuable logical insights as much as he managed to state them.

Wittgenstein's early philosophy, crystallized in the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, takes as its starting point the logical framework of Frege and Russell, but quickly adds to that framework an orthogonal extension designed to highlight logic's connection to experience, language and the world. And in a surprising twist that would have dismayed Frege (assuming Frege could have understood it), Wittgenstein takes the notion of objectifying logic, of purifying it of all human influence, and turns that notion completely on its head. In the Tractatus, Wittgenstein seems to be employing the tools of logic to construct a type of near solipsism, an inspired attempt, as it were, to animate Kierkegaard's cry of “truth is subjectivity” by outlining it with step-by-step instructions. On its surface, the Tractatus still sounds objective and logical, but viewed from within it reads as extraordinarily self-generated—Wittgenstein's startling depiction of the world as he found it, an embodiment of his both unique and universal form of perception.

Although Wittgenstein was initially convinced the Tractatus contained unassailable truth, he grew nonetheless ever more restless with its emphasis on formal logic, and upon returning to philosophy more than a decade after having finished the Tractatus, Wittgenstein began re-examining logic from an entirely different angle. This so-called later philosophy, gathered primarily in the posthumously published Philosophical Investigations, examines the structure and meaning of ordinary language, and emphasizes not only the role of propositional assertions, but also that of questions, commands and sudden exclamations. Wittgenstein begins to explore the impact of community and what he calls “forms of life” as he attempts to describe the communal scaffolding whereby structure and meaning are shared, and in contrast to both Frege's strident objectivity and to the Tractatus' strident subjectivity, Wittgenstein's later philosophy takes on the style and form of a mutual investigation, an investigation dealing in many ways with a natural history of man.

Academicians like to emphasize the break between Wittgenstein's early and late philosophies, but it should be noted that Wittgenstein's later work does not so much abandon the logic of the Tractatus as it attempts to supplement it. For a period of time Wittgenstein seriously contemplated a project in which the Tractatus would be published side-by-side with his new remarks, each text shedding light and contrast upon the other. Such a side-by-side project would have been visually significant for Wittgenstein, for it would have laid out structurally the nature of the problem most vexing him. Like nearly all the philosophers before him, Wittgenstein had assumed the traits of human logic flowed from a common well, and yet here he had been developing a lifetime of philosophical work—as sincerely as any philosopher ever could—that presented two extremely different aspects of human logic, each of which appeared to be valuable and viable, but each of which appeared to be irreconcilable. Thus it would have been difficult for Wittgenstein to recognize how his two combined philosophies, embracing and embodying these two different aspects of human logic, had managed in a certain sense to unveil logic's mysteries as accurately as anyone ever had, for it would have been difficult for him to reconcile logic's dual emanation from just a single source.

Wittgenstein, of course, lived well before the condition of autism became widely known and more completely described. If Wittgenstein had known about autism, if he had been given a thorough description of autism's distinctive form of perception, I am certain he would have recognized almost immediately autism's direct bearing on his dual presentation of logic. Wittgenstein, as much as anyone else, would have been able to recognize that here was an actual cause—not a philosophical or logical reason, but instead an actual biological and anthropological cause—for the two differing aspects of logic, aspects that as it turns out indeed warrant presentation side-by-side. With an accurate understanding of autism, we can see that the two aspects of logic have in fact two very real sources, sources emanating from the non-homogeneous composition of human cognition. And it is the first aspect of logic—the aspect Frege had tried to purify of human influence, the aspect Wittgenstein had employed in the Tractatus to construct his near solipsism, the aspect generally grouped by logicians under the heading of formal logic—it is that aspect of logic that arises naturally and spontaneously from the conditions of autistic perception.


Description. Autistic perception differs fundamentally from non-autistic perception.

The main characteristic of biological perception is its providing of a sensory foregrounding. Without foregrounding, each organism's broad array of sensory input would be experienced as undifferentiated and chaotic, and therefore it is critical that each organism be able to perceive some type of signal against its background of sensory noise. In the animal kingdom—and this would include man and his long history as a simple primate—evolution has forged a type of biological perception extremely well suited for survival and procreation, a type of perception best described by adjectives such as species-specific or species-focused. Each species member is born with a natural and spontaneous ability to focus primarily, if not exclusively, on the other members of the species and on the species' general interests and pursuits, and this ability allows each member to rapidly imitate the others and to assimilate to the species' overall behaviors. This form of focused perception is of course extremely valuable; it allows each population to coalesce around its own members and around its sources of shelter and food, and thus species-specific perception contributes in a fundamental way to the quest for viability. But it should also be noted that this form of perception is so powerful it blocks alternative forms of perception, and thus has the effect of locking each species into a tight biological immediacy. Nowhere in the natural world do we find evidence of comprehensive, detailed perceptions centered on, for instance, the shapes of geography, the cycles of botany, the patterns of weather, or the course of the celestial seasons, for nowhere in the natural world do these items ever manage to achieve perceptual foregrounding.

Although something has clearly changed man's perceptual capacity—broadening it remarkably in a very short period of time—for the large majority of humans, their natural and spontaneous form of biological perception can still be described unambiguously as being species specific. The early attentive focus of most children continues to gravitate to sensory impressions made upon them by other humans and by the population's behaviors and interests, and as happened not that long ago on prehistoric African plains, children today employ a species-specific perception to rapidly imitate others and to assimilate to the population's current behaviors. And despite mankind's unprecedented departure from circumstances once fraught with the struggles of survival and procreation, humans today continue to display a foremost interest in the biological concerns of species—sex, family, food, shelter, societal ranking. Man has remained for the most part a social and biological being, he has carried his evolutionary inheritance of a species-specific focus right with him into modern times, and it is these strong, lingering, foregrounding traits of a species-specific focus that define the distinguishing characteristics of non-autistic perception.

Autistic perception differs fundamentally from non-autistic perception in that autistic perception, to a significant degree, lacks this species-specific focus. The material cause for this difference remains unknown (a variety of genetic, neurological and biochemical hypotheses have been proposed, but so far none have proven enlightening); the characteristics of the difference, however, are apparent from observation alone. Observation reveals consistently that autistic individuals display considerably less perceptual preference for humans and human biological influences, and show much greater perceptual attention for an entirely different class of sensory features.

Recall that the main task of biological perception is to provide sensory foregrounding. If autistic individuals are not experiencing a natural and spontaneous foregrounding of human-specific features from their surrounding environment, then the question arises, what does foreground for them, if anything at all? Autistic individuals would appear to be at risk of large-scale sensory chaos and confusion, and there is some evidence that such a potential does exist, for many autistic individuals do report a variety of sensory difficulties that do not derive from any known physical cause. In general, however, autistic individuals do not experience complete sensory chaos and confusion; certain features from their surrounding environment do consistently foreground and emerge. These features possess the particular trait of being able to inherently stand out, they form an implicit signal against a background of sensory noise, and these features are what humans now categorize under the headings of symmetry, repetition, pattern, structure, mappings and the like. Unfettered by the strong species-specific focus characteristic of non-autistic perception, and in need of sensory foregrounding to avoid complete sensory confusion, autistic individuals are drawn to elements from the broadly arrayed environment that inherently emerge from the background, elements rich in pattern, structure and form. It is this natural and spontaneous foregrounding of such structural, mostly non-biological features from the surrounding environment that defines the distinguishing characteristic of autistic perception.

And here is the direct connection to formal logic: this basic process of implicit sensory foregrounding experienced within autistic perception corresponds exactly to the foundational components of formal logic.

The foundational components of formal logic can be classified in various ways—different logicians will use slightly different approaches—but almost any classification will include a detailed description of the following three core features of logic:

  • Objects

  • Concepts

  • Relations

These three core features of logic are in a certain sense undefinable, but it is possible to cast greater light upon their nature and upon their likely human origin by realizing that each of these core features corresponds to an aspect of foregrounding within autistic perception. Each core feature of logic corresponds to a particular type of implicit perceptual emergence from a background of sensory noise.


The notion object plays a role in all three core features of logic, but as a standalone target of investigation, object is probably best approached through the idea of an unanalyzable entity—an entity highlighted most often within formal logic through the use of a proper name. It would be difficult to suggest a notion more basic than that of object.

If we begin with an image of an undifferentiated biological perception (a sensory chaos, if you will) and envision the spontaneous emergence of a single, unanalyzable entity from within that perception, then we will have a rough model for the type of perceptual foregrounding that gives rise to the notion object. For non-autistic individuals, their natural inclination is to have other humans be the entities which foreground within their perception (and of course the naming of people has become an essential part of human discourse); but for autistic individuals, their basic experience of perceptual foregrounding, by necessity, must be more generic, and in consequence produces a more generalized paradigm for the notion object. Since autistic individuals lack in significant degree the ability to foreground human features from their surrounding environment, it becomes incumbent upon the sensory field itself to provide the characteristics that can implicitly emerge in autistic perception, and from the experience of autistic individuals, we know that such implicit emergence is provided most often by entities that embody such attributes as symmetry, repetition and pattern. The classic example from autistic experience would be the strong perceptual attraction of spinning objects—tops, wheels, ceiling fans. A spinning object strongly embodies visual symmetry and patterned repetition, and in an otherwise undifferentiated sensory environment, items such as ceiling fans inherently stand out, they are more easily (more naturally, more spontaneously) foregrounded against the background of sensory noise.

This description of the notion object is distinctive, because here, it is the entity itself which embodies the structural or patterned characteristic, and thus it is the entity itself which carries the impetus for its implicit foregrounding. As we will discover momentarily, objects encountered under the notions concept and relation are in a certain sense less distinctive, and thus are treated in formal logic more anonymously. But as a first step, it is important to consider separately, as we have here, this more distinctive version of the notion object, because its extremely simple and self-contained nature is highly suggestive of the more basic aspects of logic. For instance, the foregrounding/non-foregrounding dichotomy contained in the notion object hints at the binary nature underlying much of formal logic, including the binary nature of true and false. Furthermore, the essential accompaniment of such non-biological attributes as symmetry, repetition and pattern highlights the unique nature of object as experienced within autistic perception, and thus points to the source of mankind's cognitive separation from the remainder of the animal kingdom. And just as importantly, the solitary distinctiveness of the notion object, its unencumbered simplicity during sensory emergence, provides perhaps the most fundamental example available of the direct link between the characteristics of biological perception and the nature of human logic.

With the notion concept, unlike with the notion object, it is not the entity itself which embodies the structural or patterned characteristic; instead, with concept, it is more commonly the case that objects constitute the structural or patterned characteristic, and it is the characteristic itself, often abstract, that gives rise to the notion concept. Classic examples from autistic experience would include the lining up of toys or the rapt attention paid to a series of sounds produced in a repetitive temporal pattern (evenly-spaced claps, for instance). Note that each object by itself (each toy, each clap) would not tend to foreground within autistic perception, because each object by itself does not embody the structural characteristic necessary for it to be perceived against the background of sensory noise. Instead it is the formed concept (the straight line, the rhythm) which carries the symmetrical or patterned trait that allows it to implicitly emerge within autistic perception, and the constituting objects, in a certain sense, merely come along for the perceptual ride. It is the foregrounding of such structural, often abstract features that lies at the heart of the notion concept.

In formal logic, the notion concept was clarified greatly by the developments of the late nineteenth century, in particular by the introductions put forth by Frege. In adding quantifiers, variables and functions to the discourse and philosophy behind formal logic, Frege helped capture more precisely the essence of the notion concept. For example, in the use of a first-order logical formula such as “For all x: f(x),” it becomes apparent that it is the concrete objects that are being treated iteratively and anonymously, while it is the function itself, representing the concept, that carries all the distinctiveness of the statement. That is to say, it is the concept-representing function that foregrounds in such statements of formal logic, and such functional foregrounding reflects precisely the foregrounding of concepts within biological perception.

Furthermore, it would appear that the genesis of the notion concept seems to be particularly autistic, for nowhere else in the animal kingdom is there evidence of perceptual awareness directed towards structural, abstract concepts and neither is there evidence of such awareness in the early history of man. To contemplate a purely non-autistic version of the notion concept, we would need to consider the perceptual emergence of similar, but more biologically-distinctive features, and although such features are certainly thinkable and likely, these are features nonetheless quite different in kind from those of the usual notion concept. Thus the sudden expansion of human perceptive range, including its impact on the recent transformations in the culture of man, must be attributed in large measure to the introduction of abstract patterns and symmetries—the material of the notion concept—an introduction achieved primarily through the implicit, mostly non-biological foregrounding necessitated by the circumstances of autistic perception.

Relations, like concepts, are also constituted out of objects, but here, what gives rise to the perceptual foregrounding is not that the objects form into a particular structure or pattern, but that the objects consistently map to one another (in fact, under many scenarios, mapping would make a much better term than relation). If we start once again with an image of an undifferentiated biological perception, we can focus on those examples where two or more objects consistently co-appear within the sensory field—for instance, two flashes of light that always happen simultaneously, or one flash of light that always takes place at the same time as a particular sound. Each flash and each sound by itself would not tend to emerge in autistic perception, not without embodying some structural feature (as with distinctive objects), and the collection of flashes and sounds also cannot emerge in autistic perception, not unless that collection happens to constitute a discernible pattern (as with concepts). But the consistent mapping is enough all by itself, it is all that is required to break the background chaos and provide a means whereby to gain sensory foregrounding. It is when the consistent co-occurrence of two or more objects in the sensory field gains perceptual attention that we have a well-formed instance of the notion relation.

Relations have two important consequences. As suggested by the example of a light flash mapping to a particular sound, relations can arise from objects that map across sensory domains, and thus relations provide a useful framework for sensory integration in autistic perception. Note that non-autistic individuals already have a built-in framework for sensory integration; their focused perception on human-specific features provides a natural touch point for gathering experiences of sight, sound, touch, smell and even taste. But autistic individuals, without a similar perceptual focus, and with their experiences of objects and concepts frequently taking place in only a single sensory domain, find themselves in need of a perceptual mechanism that can tie together sensory experience, and the cross-domain potential of relations fits that need quite nicely. The other important consequence of relations is that they provide a paradigm for the invention of language. Language is a higher-level construct than the notion relation, but language follows a similar outline, for language is essentially a mapping, a mapping from biologically immediate artifacts onto entities and concepts not so biologically present. And as relations serve an integrative purpose in autistic perception, so too does language serve an integrative purpose for the entire human species: in the first place, language pulls together the expanded cognitive experience brought on by awareness of objects, concepts and relations, and furthermore language brings together the differing aspects of autistic and non-autistic perception, serving as the medium in which to blend autistic and non-autistic cognitive strengths, thereby fostering a perceptual transformation for all mankind.

The remainder of formal logic is by and large built up out of these three core features of logic—that is, the more complex logical components, such as propositions, logical product, logical sum, etc., these are constructed out of the various combinations of objects, concepts and relations. And from the perspective of autistic perception, this climb from simplicity through constructed complexity mirrors the developmental climb from childhood through maturity; autistic sensory foregrounding tends to become ever more sophisticated as basic perceptions, apprehended concurrently, are built into more complex perceptions based upon the emergence of the many permutations. Wittgenstein's Tractatus, in fact, unfolds in exactly this same manner, building up its version of logic out of objects and states of affairs (concepts and relations), combining these into propositions of limitless constructibility, and by extension, building up similar frameworks to describe the development of world and self. In the Tractatus, as no place else, we find constructive logic, developing autistic perception, and the author's own maturing self all being brought together into one tightly organized, self-reflecting mirror.


To be precise, in these discussions outlining the core features of logic, it is only the process of perceptual foregrounding that directly correlates to the topic of logic. The characteristics of what actually foregrounds—that is, the characteristics of structure, symmetry, pattern, and the like—these characteristics belong, technically speaking, to a different topic; they belong to mathematics. Visual symmetry and structure, for instance, make up the core material of geometry, and various types of repetition and pattern, these form the basis of arithmetic. As such, it is interesting to recall the Logicism projects of both Frege and Russell, who attempted to construct the entirety of mathematics on a foundation of formal logic, efforts ultimately dispelled by Gödel's incompleteness theorem. From the perspective of autistic perceptual foregrounding, one sees perhaps yet another reason why Logicism cannot entirely succeed, because within that foregrounding process the characteristics of logic and mathematics reveal themselves as inseparable, they are much like two sides of one coin. The foregrounding process itself (logic) would not be possible if there were not structural features in the sensory environment (mathematics) that could inherently emerge, and on the other hand, from the lack of mathematical awareness in the animal kingdom we know that the environment's non-biological structural features would remain entirely unapprehended if not for the presence of a form of perception in which such features could take a prominent place. Logic and mathematics are intricately intertwined, it appears to be hopeless to build either out of the other. Furthermore, we may as well add objective science into this same mix of inseparability; for with geometry being the basis of space, and with arithmetic being the basis of time, and with logical inference being the basis of scientific method, science's entire modus operandi is directly traceable to the characteristics of logic and mathematics, and therefore directly traceable to the characteristics of autistic perception. In a fundamental sense (and in a biological and anthropological sense), the topics of logic, mathematics and science form an uncleavable whole.

Finally, it should be noted that if foregrounding within autistic perception is to be identified as a logic—in this case, a formal logic—then foregrounding within non-autistic perception must also be identified as a logic. Humans have yet to develop a precise language for depicting this more species-specific version of perceptual foregrounding—its characteristics can be hinted at through the terminology of Darwinian and sociological principles, but such terminology is often too murky. It would be of immense value, however, to develop a more precise language for depicting species-focused forms of logic; for with such a language, alongside the language of formal logic, researchers could more accurately compare and contrast autistic and non-autistic perceptual characteristics. And nowhere would that precise investigation be more informative than in the area of linguistics.

Linguistics—the logic of human language—encompasses much too large a topic to be taken up here, but a general approach to linguistics emerges quite naturally as an extension to this current investigation of formal logic (thereby traveling much the same road as Wittgenstein did in proceeding from the Tractatus to the Philosophical Investigations). To outline it quite briefly, ordinary human language cannot be analyzed accurately until we recognize that human language derives historically and anthropologically out of a blending of both forms of human logic. The formal logic that arises out of autistic perception provides the impetus and much of the underlying structure for human language, while the biological, species-specific logic that is the birthright of non-autistic perception provides a substantial and significant addendum, one that above all else helps to disseminate language across the entirety of the human species. And until we can recognize and tease out these dual roots of a now thoroughly blended human language, we will continue to find linguistics to be a most puzzling subject, puzzling with respect to language's content, structure and origin. (See, for instance, Chapter 2, Section 2.3 of Noam Chomsky's Aspects of the Theory of Syntax and the “problem” described therein. Much of this so-called problem can be traced to the dual logical roots of human language, and although Chomsky's solution of dividing linguistic processing into a base phrase grammar—incorporating much of formal logic—and a separate supplemental lexicon—incorporating much of species-specific logic—although this solution points to a dual aspect and a dual origin of human language, Chomsky and his acolytes never seem to recognize this possibility for what it truly is.)


Two Concluding Observations. An observation to make regarding the history of modern logic is that nearly all its significant contributors have been individuals who have displayed behaviors and interests consistent with those of an autistic personality. With the possible exception of Tarski (who, although atypical in many respects, was clearly the most outgoing and collaborative of the group), modern logic was developed almost entirely by men who tended towards introversion, eccentricity and obsession, men whose biographies are filled with a clear preference for facts, objects and rules, and a clear discomfort for people, society and the demands of human convention. The autistic characteristics of Frege and Wittgenstein, for instance, seem nearly indisputable, and yet even these two examples would have to be described as mild compared to the more extreme cases of Peirce and Gödel, each of whom displayed eccentricities that might easily be interpreted as pathological.

There is nothing coincidental about this observation. The fields of logic, mathematics and science have always been saturated with personalities possessing autistic-like characteristics, a fact made more prominent when focusing on those individuals who have made the most significant and transformational contributions. Autistic individuals are drawn to such disciplines, they display a preternatural ability to be creative in such domains. The characteristics of logic, mathematics and science reflect exactly—indeed, were originated out of—the basic conditions of autistic perception. And it should be noted how recent and sudden has been the appearance of these disciplines within the culture of man; there is little, if any, evidence of their existence in mankind's more animal-like past. Thus the rise of logic, mathematics and science cannot be described as an evolutionary event but instead mirrors the rise of these disciplines' more proximate cause, mirrors the increasing significance and presence of autistic cognitive traits within the human population.

An observation to make regarding this essay's basic description of formal logic—as the process of inherent, non-biological foregrounding emerging from an autistic individual's background of sensory noise—is how closely this description matches the spontaneous activities of young autistic children. There exist many studies now that reveal autistic children's preference for perceptions and activities rich in non-biological pattern and structure over the perceptions and activities heavily influenced by human or biological form (see, for instance, here). And in a more informal sense, the many commonly reported behaviors of autistic children—lining up toys, spinning wheels, spinning tops, spinning selves, fascination with digits and letters, listening to the same song over and over, watching the same video again and again—such activities reveal the almost compulsive manner in which young autistic children focus primarily on the features of non-biological pattern and structure to be found in the world around them (exactly as this essay's basic description of logic and autistic perception would directly predict).

That autism researchers have been unable to make this observation themselves is indeed one of modern science's greatest travesties, for it derives from autism scientists not trying to understand autistic behaviors so much as they have been trying to destroy them. Drugs, behavioral therapies, other atrocities that go under the heading of early intervention—these have fast become the sole scientific means by which autism researchers now “investigate” the activities of young autistic children, and thus scientists remain entirely blind to the rich information these children have to impart.

The travesty must end.

If humanity's goal is to understand more fully the foundations and origin of its logical thinking, and if humanity's desire is to describe more accurately man's sudden transformation from animal into logical being, then humanity must end this all-too-common practice of brutally misunderstanding the key to its most vital logical questions, humanity must end this all-too-common practice of brutally misunderstanding its autistic individuals.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Turning Turing over in His Grave

I have no doubt that the current campaign to issue Alan Turing a posthumous apology is well intentioned, but I also have no desire to join that campaign.

If it had remained confined to a handful of Turing aficionados, a few who might have truly appreciated his contributions and the challenges he faced, then perhaps I could have been a little more sympathetic. But crowds frighten me, and I suspect they frightened Turing too. And when I see the likes of Dawkins and Grayling joining the throng, I know we have passed from well-intentioned campaign to well-intentioned farce. After all, these are the same professional and authoritative figures who would have been all too happy to condemn Alan Turing in the early 1950s, for of course, that is where the crowd's sentiment lay. It is of no surprise to find them signing up with the opposing legions a half century later, for all that is of consequence is that the legions have switched sides.

Revisionist history serves only to ease the current generation's pain.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Summer Break

I am going to be taking a break from blogging for the remainder of the summer. I need to catch up on some reading, and besides, my son seems to be on a mission to visit every water park and every amusement park within a 500 mile radius of our home, and I see no reason to disappoint him.

You can expect to see regular posts here again starting in early September.

Monday, June 29, 2009

“D” Words

Autistic individuals are frequently characterized by an assortment of “D” words: diseased, disordered, dysfunctional, disabled, dire, doomed, etc. I myself find none of these characterizations to be accurate, and indeed given the complex nature of autism, I doubt any one word is sufficient to capture the essential nature of the condition. But if I had to choose a word, if I were forced to pick a single adjective that best depicts the important characteristics of autistic individuals, I would propose an “A” word above all the “D” words: I would propose “askew.”

To be askew means to share much in common, and yet to possess enough distinction that the difference is consequential. This is the way I prefer to characterize the relationship between the autistic and non-autistic populations.

Askew is a strong enough word to underscore the challenges autistic individuals must face, how the efforts they must undertake to align with the larger portion of the human population are bound to produce great difficulties and some occasional pain. But askew also highlights that the relationship is reciprocal, and that the non-autistic population too has been impacted by autism's offbeat presence. When two mutually askew populations encounter each other, the force of their collision must change the outcome for each.

The non-autistic population primarily perceives its surroundings socially and biologically, in alignment with traits handed down via evolution. The autistic population primarily perceives its surroundings through the lens of non-biological structure and pattern, in alignment with the inherent form that organizes the physical world. Humanity now perceives its surroundings as a blend of both modes of perception, and has departed severely from its former way of being.

This sudden change in humanity's circumstance—a change defying every known principle of evolution—is the result of two askew populations coming rapidly together, each influencing each, with the consequent impact sending mankind off in an entirely different direction. And if I had to choose a word, if I were forced to pick a single noun that best depicts the important characteristic of this sudden alteration in humanity's course, I would propose a “D” word above all else: I would propose “destiny.”

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Corollaries of the Baron-Cohen, et al. Prevalence Paper

This post serves as a gathered collection of thoughts surrounding the paper recently published in the British Journal of Psychiatry, Prevalence of Autism-spectrum Conditions: UK School-based Population Study (Baron-Cohen, Scott, Allison, Williams, Bolton, Matthews, Brayne, 2009, hereafter referred to as PAC). Let me begin by stating that this post is not intended to be a commentary on PAC's methods or accuracy—epidemiology is well outside my knowledge domain and I can leave that analysis to others. My intention here is merely to consider the reported findings of the paper and to discuss how they, if confirmed, must call into question much of the conventional wisdom regarding autism, including conventional wisdom accepted by much of the autism research community.

The two main findings reported in PAC are 1) for the population studied (school children aged 5 to 9 living in Cambridgeshire), the rate of diagnosed autism-spectrum conditions is roughly 1.0%; and 2) for the same population, the true prevalence of autism—that is, the percentage of those who meet diagnostic criteria for an autism-spectrum condition, whether or not they have been officially diagnosed—is roughly 1.5%.

For the purpose of this discussion I am going to assume these findings will be confirmed, and furthermore, I am going to assume they will be found to be roughly applicable for many populations outside the study—for instance, the populations of the industrialized nations such as Canada, Great Britain, and the United States. This last assumption is of course a bit uncertain, because there are reasons to believe the Cambridgeshire population might possess unique characteristics affecting its autism rate; but as a rough measure, I think it not unreasonable to assume Cambridgeshire autism rates are similar to autism rates for many other geographic locations.

Finally, I am going to add one more assumption that is not a finding of PAC itself: I am going to assume the true prevalence of autism has remained steady over the last thirty years or so—that is, the true prevalence of autism (as defined in PAC) was 1.5% around 1980, and has remained near that level to the present day. Not everyone would agree with this assumption, of course, but there are many autism researchers who seem to indicate it is both plausible and likely, and those who do not agree with this assumption—that is, those who posit a recent “epidemic” of autism—face the daunting challenge of matching this “epidemic” assumption to everything else that is known about autism. Only time will tell which understanding is most correct, but the intention of this particular discussion is to consider the ramifications of assuming autism's prevalence has remained steady over recent decades.

In summary then, here are the findings and assumptions being addressed in this post, stated in such a way as to indicate they are being taken as accurate and broadly applicable:

  • The current rate of diagnosed autism (autism-spectrum conditions) for children aged 5 to 9 is 1.0%.

  • The current true prevalence of autism (diagnosed and undiagnosed) for children aged 5 to 9 is 1.5%.

  • The true prevalence of autism for children aged 5 to 9 has remained steady (near 1.5%) for at least the past thirty years or so.

These assumptions, taken as a group, lead to a number of corollaries, corollaries which have not been widely discussed but which should be considered, for they are surprising—surprising in that they defy much of the conventional wisdom already established around the subject of autism. These corollaries would include:

  • The vast majority of autistic adults are undiagnosed.

  • Autism is (on average) too non-disruptive to be considered a disorder.

  • Autism is too common to be considered a disorder.

  • The so-called “advantage” of early diagnosis, treatment, and intervention is highly questionable.

All these corollaries follow directly from the above-listed findings and assumptions. Let me discuss each corollary in turn:


The vast majority of autistic adults are undiagnosed. “Autistic” in this context means someone who could have received (or did receive) a diagnosis of autism as a school-aged child under the conditions and criteria set forth by PAC, notwithstanding how such an individual might then present as an adult. If we consider the circumstances of thirty years ago (and using the findings and assumptions listed above), this means 1.5% of the school-aged population around 1980 qualified as “autistic” under this definition, and since mortality rates appear not to differ significantly between autistic and non-autistic populations, that same 1.5% rate of autism prevalence still roughly holds for the adult population currently approaching the age of forty. By extension, we can expect a similar rate of autism prevalence throughout the entire adult population.

There are a variety of estimates given for the rate of diagnosed autism some twenty to thirty years ago. For convenience, I am going to assume the rate of diagnosed autism in school-aged children around 1980 was roughly 1 in 1000. That appears to be consistent with many of the estimates provided, and besides, the exact number is not nearly as important as the scale of difference from current rates, for any large scale difference is going to demonstrate the point that most autistic adults today are undiagnosed. For instance, if we assume the diagnosed rate of autism was 1 in 1000 in 1980 while the true prevalence of autism was holding steady at 1.5%, this means that for every school-aged autistic child who was diagnosed with autism in 1980, there were approximately 14 school-aged autistic children who were going undiagnosed. This is a tremendous gulf of difference from the present-day ratio arising out of PAC (two diagnosed for every one undiagnosed by the assumptions of this discussion; three diagnosed for every two undiagnosed by the more exact statistics presented in PAC).

It is true that some of these undiagnosed autistic children from 1980 would have received an alternative diagnosis (such as mental retardation or childhood schizophrenia), and it is also true that some of these individuals would have received an autism-spectrum diagnosis later in life. But no statistics regarding diagnostic substitution or adult-age diagnoses can account for the majority of these children who would have qualified as “autistic” back in 1980 (by PAC criteria) but who did not receive an actual diagnosis at that time. There is only one conclusion that can possibly match to the numbers and assumptions: the vast majority of autistic individuals went undiagnosed as children in previous years, and have remained undiagnosed as adults through the present day.


Autism is (on average) too non-disruptive to be considered a disorder. There are two ways of looking at this particular corollary: the first arises from consideration of the previous corollary alongside a contemplation of what must be the status of undiagnosed autistic adults who are living today, and the second arises from an examination of the expectations held for most present-day school-aged children who qualify as autistic under the conditions and criteria set forth in PAC.

If the vast majority of autistic adults living today are indeed undiagnosed, then their circumstances cannot be all that dire. If their circumstances were dire, they would be much easier to find. But the institutions are not overflowing with these individuals, and they do not seem to have congregated in other discernibly poor locales. There is only one possible location where so many undiagnosed autistic adults can remain so perfectly well hidden, both to themselves and to others, and that is within the normal confines and conditions of general human society. That is to say, they are living quite ably and quite abundantly among us. Individual outcomes will of course have varied greatly, from extremely negative to quite good, but such a range of outcomes is no different from what might be anticipated for the non-autistic population. When we examine those school-aged children from around 1980 who could have received a diagnosis of autism (by the criteria of PAC) but who did not actually receive such a diagnosis, and when we consider the circumstances that the majority of those individuals must find themselves in today, we are forced to conclude either that their autistic characteristics did not preclude them from assimilating into general adult society or that any early difficulties these individuals might have faced, without treatment and without recognition, simply eased with time. Either way, to apply the term “disordered” to such a large, well-assimilated group of individuals would necessitate a complete overhaul of modern-day semantics.

And the conclusion turns out to be no different when applied to today's autistic children, such as those who were studied in PAC. Starting with the ones who have been diagnosed with an autism-spectrum condition, it must be noted that the expectations are quite promising for a large percentage of these children. Although terms such as “high-functioning,” “Asperger syndrome,” and “mild autism” are too inconsistently applied to be statistically useful, they do indicate there is an anticipation with many diagnosed autism-spectrum children that they will be able to progress through school, possibly attend college, obtain work, and in general assimilate in some fashion to the typical circumstances of general human society. And if these are the expectations for many of the diagnosed autistic children, it must be even more so for the many autistic children who have remained undiagnosed. Although the PAC authors do not describe in detail the life circumstances of the children they categorize as undiagnosed, if I am reading between the lines correctly, the suggestion seems to be that these are children who for the most part possess diagnosable characteristics of autism but who have not been regarded as being troubled enough to be brought in for an actual diagnosis. If so, then one has to surmise the expectations are again quite good for these children, certainly no different in kind than the expectations held for most non-autistic children, and when we add the size of this group to the number of diagnosed autistic children for whom expectations are also quite positive, the notion that most autistic children are somehow in the grip of a dreadful disorder rings clearly false, for it does not match the anticipated outcomes for the large majority of these children.

None of this is to deny the circumstances of autistic individuals who face greater challenges, for they certainly exist too and are in need of a greater understanding, but the findings of PAC, along with the assumption that true autism prevalence has remained steady over recent years, leads to an inevitable conclusion that for the vast majority of autistic individuals, their autism is not so disruptive as to prevent eventual assimilation into general human society, and is not so disruptive as to warrant use of the term “disordered.”


Autism is too common to be considered a disorder. At 1.5%, autism's prevalence approaches nearly the same scale of prevalence as is seen in left-handedness and homosexuality, and as history has suggested with these and other lifelong conditions, an attempt to medicalize and demonize such a large portion of the human population leads only to unresolvable tension, rampant misunderstandings and needless suffering. Ultimately, such a course cannot be sustained.

Indeed, if a 1.5% rate of autism prevalence holds throughout the entire human population, we are talking about nearly one hundred million people all told, the large majority of whom (by the numbers alone—you cannot find one hundred million people residing in institutions) must be participating relatively productively and relatively well within the circumstances and conditions of general human society. To describe such a large segment of humanity as “disordered” and to classify its unifying condition as somehow “tragic” runs counter to all forms of medical and scientific logic. Humanity has been down this misguided path before; it should know well enough by now not to go down that path again.


The so-called “advantage” of early diagnosis, treatment, and intervention is highly questionable. If the PAC findings are accurate, and if the true prevalence of autism has remained steady over recent decades, then it is only quite recently that the majority of autistic children have begun to be exposed to diagnosis, treatment and intervention; before now, most autistic children went undiagnosed, untreated and unintervened, and as the discussions of the previous corollaries have demonstrated, most of these children must have been able to develop, progress and assimilate into general human society with a relative degree of success. It is against that background that judgments of diagnosis, treatment and intervention should always be made; but in reality, that background is almost always ignored.

When a research team announces that a form of treatment can lead to positive outcomes (usually defined as removal of autistic behaviors) for say 50% of the autistic children being studied, this news is typically greeted with great fanfare, for the unstated assumption behind such joy is that without treatment, without intervention, these children would invariably experience extremely negative outcomes, full of “terrible” autistic behaviors and leading inevitably to eventual institutionalization. But the findings of PAC clearly demonstrate that this unstated assumption is not just a little bit false but indeed is grotesquely false. The normal outcome, the expectation, is that autistic children will develop, progress and assimilate to human society, and this includes (most especially includes) those autistic children who do not experience diagnosis, treatment and intervention. Rather than greeting announced results of “50% positive outcomes” with great fanfare, we should instead be responding with extreme horror: how could a proposed treatment possibly be doing so much harm?

Indeed, when considering the findings of PAC, one would almost have to make the cheeky assertion that the most promising form of autism treatment is to remain undiagnosed. I do not myself want to be quite so cheeky, because I do believe early recognition of autism has the potential to create benefits for autistic individuals. But if the form of those “benefits” continues to be treatments and interventions aimed at combating a pseudo disorder, then I am forced to remind the autism research community that the findings of PAC suggest quite strongly that most autistic individuals were much better served in an era in which they went entirely unrecognized.


These four corollaries—derived only from the findings of PAC, along with the additional assumption that true autism prevalence has remained steady over recent decades—reveal an image of autism that runs diametrically counter to the image offered by autism's conventional wisdom. From the findings of PAC, autism emerges as a condition both common and healthy, and a condition that leads in most instances to a predictable developmental course (albeit a course somewhat different than the norm), a course of growth and eventual assimilation into general human society.

The more commonly held vision—that autism is instead a tragic brain disorder leading, without treatment and without intervention, to frightening consequences—this conventional wisdom has arisen out of autism's volatile diagnostic history, having taken hold at a time when only the most troubling cases were being recognized and autism was considered to be a circumstance exceedingly rare. But as autism's diagnosable characteristics have become more crystallized, and as it has become more apparent that those characteristics can be applied to far more cases—including many cases not nearly so troubling—autism's conventional wisdom has remained nonetheless quite stubborn, has refused against all logic to be dislodged, and thus continues to hold sway within nearly the entire autism research community.

Surely the PAC findings must be the final straw.

There is only one conceivable way to accept PAC's findings while continuing to cling to autism's conventional wisdom, and that is to negate the added assumption, to claim that instead of holding steady over recent decades, autism's true prevalence has been rapidly increasing. And because I suspect autism researchers will remain unwilling to let go of autism's conventional wisdom, that negation will now be put forward with a much greater urgency, and the holy grail hunt for the source of autism's sudden surge will continue to expand both far and wide—from proposed floods of fetal testosterone to endless laundry lists of suspicious environmental toxins. But as researchers are attempting to bridge that enormous gap between purported cause and established effect, allow me to offer instead the more promising prospects of moving decidedly on. Letting go of autism's conventional wisdom requires only very little and entails not a single moment's wait for new discoveries. Letting go of autism's conventional wisdom requires only the confirmation of PAC's reported findings, along with an acceptance that autism has been significantly present within the human population for a very long time.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Anti-Evolution

At the time of the great leap forward, Steven A. Pinker, with nothing amiss in genes, neurons, brain or ego, fails to graduate high school, fails to earn advanced degree, fails to publish a single work, fails to gain appointment to any prestigious institution, and fails to comprehend the first clue as to why.

Fifty thousand years later, all is rectified—except of course the latter.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Darwin's Corpse

I sometimes feel as though I have been sent here—ill-equipped as I am—to reclaim science from all the scientists. I wake up each morning and sense Darwin has been somehow kidnapped, tortured and murdered, and the duty has fallen on me to go retrieve his mutilated corpse.

Take this passage from Steven Pinker's The Language Instinct, enough to make any admirer of Darwin utterly despair:

Evolution often produces spectacular abilities when adversaries get locked into an “arms race,” like the struggle between cheetahs and gazelles. Some anthropologists believe that human brain evolution was propelled more by a cognitive arms race among social competitors than by mastery of technology and the physical environment. After all, it doesn't take that much brain power to master the ins and outs of a rock or to get the better of a berry. But outwitting and second-guessing an organism of approximately equal mental abilities with non-overlapping interests, at best, and malevolent intentions, at worst, makes formidable and ever-escalating demands on cognition.

Of the many problems plaguing evolutionary psychologists, certainly none can be more troubling than this collectively appalling grasp of evolution. It as though all have found themselves the summertime denizens of a freshman remedial biology class, and have decided to make a cause célèbre out of their combined ignorance.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Distributor Wires, the Human Brain, and Wittgenstein's Motto

Arguing that genes can be essential to human grammar without having to be sufficient for an entire account of human grammar, Steven Pinker in his book The Language Instinct employs the following apt analogy: removing the distributor wire prevents a car from moving, but that does not mean a car is controlled by its distributor wire.

Pinker then fails to realize his analogy is just as apt when applied to the human brain.


Science at its best was once a glorious exercise in the broadening of human context. If one wishes to comprehend the enduring appeal of the discoveries of Newton, Darwin and Einstein for instance, one should consider how each man re-described the surroundings of his problem, and thereby helped the problem disappear.

Today's scientists—the many Pinkertons among us—have forgotten this notion of context, and thus we have details and data coming out our ears, but little expansion of the human horizon.


The brain is indeed essential to language, learning, intelligence, etc.—remove it, and a human being will experience none of these. But as the distributor wire does not explain the motion of a car, the human brain does not provide an entire account of our expanding cognitive glory. The motto here is always: take a wider look around.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Griswold's Conjecture

For the time being, I am going to name the following statement Griswold's Conjecture:

Employment of early intervention for children diagnosed with autism leads on average to poorer outcomes than would have been the case without such intervention.

For the purpose of this conjecture, “early intervention” is defined as any technique administered to autistic children with the intent of ameliorating or removing autistic behaviors and attributes. Examples would include applied behavioral analysis, pharmacology and chelation.

I am uncertain if anyone else has attempted to state a similar hypothesis (and if they have, I will gladly rename the conjecture), but I believe it is important to place this statement as formally as possible within the autism debate arena; for at the present moment, the autism research community is unabashedly assuming its negation. In nearly every research article and in nearly every accompanying press release, autism scientists can be heard repeating the mantra that early intervention greatly improves outcomes for autistic children. The correct reply to such statements should be, “Really? So you have disproven Griswold's Conjecture? Can you show me your results?”



With increased awareness and diagnosis of autism, it has become more and more apparent that in the past most autistic individuals went entirely unrecognized. Therefore, many of these individuals would have been raised in circumstances similar to non-autistic individuals, and would not have been exposed to intervention techniques designed to lessen or remove their autistic characteristics. Although specific outcomes would have varied greatly, statistics make it clear most of these individuals did not end up in institutions or in other similarly poor circumstances. In all likelihood, many of these individuals—perhaps a sizeable majority—somehow made their way into general adult society, more or less indistinguishable from the other members of the population.

Today, circumstances have changed greatly. More and more autistic children are being exposed to early intervention techniques targeted specifically to the amelioration or removal of autistic behaviors and attributes, and there is a growing body of anecdotal evidence suggesting these techniques lead to very poor outcomes (see for instance here, here and here). Without further investigation, it remains unclear whether early intervention does not in fact produce exactly the opposite result from what the autism research community intends, does not produce a very large increase in negative outcomes for autistic individuals.

Therefore, I am placing this challenge before the autism research community: disprove Griswold's Conjecture, or else quit assuming its negation.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Searle

Another of Derrida’s non-identical twins.
So many approachable works—
Like a stash of Chrysler building replicas
Fashioned from styrofoam blocks.
(And it must be admitted,
There is a certain amount of talent
Required for a portfolio like that.
And it must be admitted,
The graduate school audiences
Prefer their buildings that way.)

Of course the trouble with approachable works
Is they dare an approach,
And up close,
We see no business is ever conducted in a building like that—
No elevators rising and falling,
No boardroom dramas between dusk and dawn,
No graphite pencils ground to their messy point.
Up close,
It resembles not a building at all—
For that, one keeps a safer distance.

Far removed from campus,
The child without siblings,
The child without peers,
Dares to slice the styrofoam to ribbons,
Crushes the blocks for pellets,
Burns the plastic down to goo,
And beyond that flotsam books uncertain passage
Over fathom-rich seas.
Searle (your brethren too)—
It is of no use to craft life preservers
From the material of a philosophy professor’s chair.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Ray of Light

From the darkness known as IMFAR 2009, there appears to have emanated at least one small ray of light. In a poster presentation entitled The Level and Nature of Autistic Intelligence II: What about Asperger Syndrome? (Mottron, Soulières, Gernsbacher, Dawson, 2009), the Mottron team adds further detail to its previous paper The Level and Nature of Autistic Intelligence (Dawson, et al., 2007), this time demonstrating that individuals with Asperger Syndrome (defined as individuals diagnosed with some form of autism, but without presentation of various forms of communication difficulties) evince the same pattern of Raven's versus Wechsler intelligence scores as was demonstrated by the autistic population studied in the 2007 paper.

I do not want to make too much of an abstract from a poster presentation, but the findings here are important in at least one respect. Much of the response to the 2007 paper focused on the idea that the Raven's test is essentially non-verbal, with the suggestion being that the better performance of autistic individuals on the Raven's test could be accounted for by the fact that Raven's bypasses autistic language difficulties, whereas Wechsler does not. That suggestion, however, is misleading, and the 2009 poster presentation reveals the flaw, for it demonstrates that in general all autistic individuals—with strong verbal abilities or not—show a similar pattern of test results. This means that something more than just verbal strengths and weaknesses is being captured in the autistic pattern of Raven's/Wechsler intelligence scores.

In my opinion, the differential performance of autistic individuals has far more to do with the question domain of the respective tests than it has to do with whether the tests are “verbal” or not: the question domains of some tests match well to autistic intellectual strengths, the question domains of others do not. Tests like Raven's and the block design subtest of Wechsler contain questions built strongly around pattern recognition and structural manipulation—a type of question that matches well to the non-biological, pattern-oriented focus that is characteristic of autistic perception. The questions of the other Wechsler subtests (comprising quite the hodge-podge) in varying degree are less pattern oriented, and they also tend to contain more culturally derived elements, elements that autistic individuals are perhaps less likely to perceive with ease.

These intelligence studies, spearheaded mostly by Michelle Dawson, are quite simple in scope and design, but they have revealed an unexpected result (at least, unexpected by the autism research community): autistic intelligence is much different in kind than non-autistic intelligence, and autistic intelligence cannot be explained away by assuming it is nearly the same as non-autistic intelligence, with just an assortment of defects tacked on.



This is a good occasion to highlight the unique role Michelle Dawson now occupies within the autism research community. Ms. Dawson is unlike any other researcher in autism's now vastly overcrowded field—for Ms. Dawson does not possess a slew of post-graduate degrees, Ms. Dawson has not patiently worked her way up through the hierarchical ranks, Ms. Dawson has not been shedding pieces of her scientific soul in order to remain part of the gathering throng. Ms. Dawson's presence in the autism research community is due almost entirely to her autism and to her intelligence, and due to the fact that Laurent Mottron has had enough discernment and courage to recognize Ms. Dawson's talent and vision and to incorporate her efforts into his research team's work. The results have been electrifying, for the Mottron team is now the only autism research team to have moved firmly away from the autism-as-disorder orthodoxy and to have provided valuable insights into the nature of autistic individuals as they truly are. The entire Mottron team deserves credit for these many contributions, but it also clear the inclusion of Ms. Dawson has had a catalyzing effect.

When will the rest of the autism community learn the importance of this lesson?

Inclusion of autistic individuals leads to intuitive, hard-to-see-otherwise insights about the nature of autism. Exclusion of autistic individuals leads only to a continuing blindness.