by Martin Butler
Neurodiversity, a term first coined by the sociologist Judith Singer in the 1990s, is the idea that human beings think and act in a wide variety of ways which extend well beyond the narrow, stereotyped conception of ‘normal’ that most people take for granted. It has come to be regarded as a matter of minority rights, according to which people whose personalities or behavioural tendencies are atypical should be granted equal rights and the same respect as anyone else. Neurodiversity is an obvious reality to which there are two rather different approaches.
The first argues that we simply need to be more accepting of those who do not fit the standard way of being. It’s about overcoming the kind of prejudice we all know from the school playground against those perceived to be different. We might see this as widening the idea of what is acceptable and thus extending the spectrum of what is ‘normal’, for even within the range of what is described as ‘neurotypical’ there is diversity. There have always been different personality types – extrovert, introvert, impulsive, aggressive, thoughtful, calm, clumsy, methodical, and so on. These, however, are not described as neurodiversity but simply as human difference. Neurodiversity then, according to this first approach, simply means admitting more individuals into the normal range, such as those who have ADHD or those on the autism spectrum. It’s part of the wider ethic that being different, unusual, or even ‘odd’ is not in itself a reason to judge a person negatively. Importantly, this approach is an attempt to break down categories. Differences are seen as irrelevant to the way we judge, just as ethnicity or sexual orientation should be regarded as irrelevant. To borrow a quote from Martin Luther King, it is the ‘content of their character’ that matters rather than the degree to which someone shows neurodiversity.
The second approach is quite different. This is not enough, it says. Having a positive and accepting attitude still does not allow someone with, for example, ADHD to succeed in an education system which does not recognise or understand the needs associated with their condition. Rather than underplaying the differences displayed by a neurodivergent individual, this approach advocates a need to fully recognise them. Unlike ethnicity or sexual orientation, it argues, neurodiversity does actually affect the way you interact with other people, how you respond to education programmes, employment roles and social situations more generally, and it is not something the individual concerned can voluntarily alter. Society, therefore, needs to adapt to accommodate these differences, and perhaps even to judge performance by a different yardstick from the one used for neurotypical individuals. According to this approach, we cannot simply be blind to these differences, as the first approach would suggest, seeing through them to the ‘normal’ human being inside. We need to recognise that being neurodivergent is part of an individual’s core identity.
The problem with this is that it leads to the medicalisation of conditions through the creation of artificial categories. Where do we draw the line between someone who could be described as neurotypical but nevertheless shows features of a recognised neurodivergent condition, and someone who only just meets the criteria for that condition? It seems a little arbitrary. Surely all human beings sit somewhere on a complex spectrum rather than in neatly defined categories. Is it fair to give special consideration to those just inside the category but not to those who fall just outside it?
Arguably neurodivergence should not be regarded as a handicap, where society needs to make compensations. The analogy with a wheelchair user, for example, is misleading. The move over the last 50 years to ensure that buildings have wheelchair access is clearly positive, a good example of society recognising a need that had previously been ignored and a clear case of minority rights being recognised. But neurodivergence does not fit this model. We can reasonably regard wheelchair users as having a disability. But, as the term ‘neurodivergent’ suggests, we are dealing with a difference here rather than a lack – a difference that can confer highly adaptive qualities. Certainly some of the most successful people both now and throughout human history would be described as neurodivergent. Many successful entrepreneurs are known to be dyslexic[1] and many of the greatest scientific figures from the past, such as Isaac Newton, would be regarded as being on the autism spectrum. A recent study indicates that some of the characteristics of ADHD, such as impulsivity, distractibility, and difficulty in focusing may have actually been advantageous during our hunter-gatherer past.[2]
Of course
in the modern world neurodiversity can be a disadvantage, but the point is that we can’t generalise. Whether a cognitive or behavioural trait is advantageous or disadvantageous depends on context. Being tall is a benefit in a house with high shelves but a problem in a house with low doorways.
There is an odd asymmetry between neurodivergence and neurotypicality which means that the former is not regarded merely as an extension of normal human diversity. We assume that neurotypical individuals who display non-typical behaviour regarded as undesirable can be held to account for their behaviour. However, someone displaying the same behaviour who has been recognised as neurodivergent would be viewed quite differently. We assume, for example, that someone who is not concentrating on the task they have been assigned, perhaps in school or in a work role context, but does not suffer from ADHD or any other neurodivergent condition could, if they so chose, sustain their concentration. The assumption is that, in contrast to the neurodivergent, the neurotypical choose the way they act. This is why evidence of neurological markers such as brain scan evidence is regarded as crucial in diagnosing a neurodivergent condition. Physiological differences indicate a level of determinism – it makes a condition ‘real’. So, the attitude we take towards the neuro-divergent is quite different to that which we take towards the neurotypical.
But is this plausible? Apart from the sharp boundary problem described above, doesn’t it also risk a kind of moral paternalism? Surely everyone has limits to what they can choose about their behaviour. Can the introvert decide to be the life and soul of the party? Can the neurotypical individual who is anything but meticulous decide to show the focused attention to detail characteristic of many on the autism spectrum? Of course sometimes we can put on an act, but it’s still just an act. To mark off the neurodivergent as physiologically different from the neurotypical – the normies – risks giving a special status to physiology, which is not given to differences due to environmental influences or unseen biological differences. This seems unjustified. Of course none of this means we can ‘blame’ the neurodivergent for their differences any more than we blame the introvert for being too quiet. But rather than focusing on generalised ‘conditions’, especially if they are medicalised, shouldn’t the focus be on individual needs? The question of what as we are capable of, what we can change and what we want to avoid, is perhaps best tackled at this individual level rather than in terms of labelled categories or ‘conditions’. And as far as possible, it is surely incumbent on all of us to develop an awareness of our strengths and weaknesses and choose a life path with this in mind. We can of course overcome our weaknesses, but we do at least need to know what they are to start with.
The problem arises partly from the kind of education system we have developed, and also to some extent the kind of work roles that are highly esteemed. Our education system in particular values a narrow set of cognitive and behavioural skills which have come to be regarded as ‘normal’ and so desirable. The cognitive profile of the neurotypical – and indeed the neurodiverse – would surely look very different in a warrior society or one based on farming or hunter-gathering. The reply to this, of course, is to say we don’t live in these kinds of society and so it’s pointless to make comparisons. But we have reached a point in human history in which the nature of work will change radically; at least this is what we are told. It’s not entirely clear what kind of skills will be at a premium in the future but it seems clear there will be significant change – perhaps more towards the practical and away from the intellectual?
Putting this aside, ideally we can perhaps move away from preferencing certain ways of being and develop a culture where we genuinely accept that people can be different. A culture that fully accepts neurodiversity would surely be one where the very notion of neurodiverse ‘conditions’ make little sense. The existence of such conditions can be taken to indicate that in many ways we haven’t accepted neurodiversity. Medicalising large swathes of the population simply because they are different seems an odd thing to do. Labelling Michelangelo or Isaac Newton as neurodivergent when young, which according to today’s criteria might well have been appropriate, would have hardly helped in the development of their genius.
[1] https://www.theguardian.com/small-business-network/2015/jan/15/dyslexic-entrepreneurs-competitive-edge-business-leaders
[2] https://www.theguardian.com/science/2024/feb/21/adhd-may-have-been-an-evolutionary-advantage-research-suggests