(part 1, part 2)
This is the continuation of my multipart series on the book NeuroTribes, by Steve Silberman. It's been an adventure through history so far. Silberman carefully portrays dozens of people who were instrumental to the development of our understanding of autism. And there are dozens, for though our knowledge of autism is less than a century old, it took everyone from authors to inventors to parents to scientists to get us to where we are now.
I'm about 2/3rds of the way through the book now. We've touched, very briefly, on behaviorism and Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA).
I have mixed feelings about behaviorism. Its base and roots are... cold. Followed mindlessly, its methods are inhumane. Behaviorism basically treats people like machines, or animals. The concept of Pavlov's dogs is a common one, where he trained them to drool at the ring of a bell by using meat powder. Behaviorism, and ABA, go further than that, and use more complicated methods... but all of it considers the subject's feelings and thoughts (other than the ones directly related to the treatment) irrelevant. Yes, irrelevant. The major things that make us human are considered irrelevant to behaviorism. This is mentioned, albeit in a sidelong manner, in the book. You can see why I might not be super-pleased with it, as a school of thought. The humanity of autistic people is denied often enough without a branch of science training people to do it.
That said, the vast majority of the practitioners of ABA that I've met are not cold or heartless, and practice their craft with empathy and kindness. They try to get inside the child's head, rather than ignoring their humanity, and personalize their methods to appeal best to that child. ABA has evolved from its roots, which is just as well given that it's the only therapy most insurances will pay for. The reason for that is because it's been shown, time and time again, that modifying behavior is a tactic that works.
It's been a long process, though, which is detailed here. Electric shock via cattle prod, outright physical abuse, and systematic dehumanization paved the way to ABA's current state. I'm horrified to learn that those same methods were applied to gay, lesbian, and transgendered children to try to "correct" their society-disapproved behavior.
Silberman also notes the application of supplements to improving the lives of autistic children. Given that autism itself, in my opinion, does not necessarily cause my hypersensitivity to sound and light, or my anxiety disorder, or my low-grade depression, and those things have been helped some by vitamin and mineral supplementation, I'm pleased to see it show up here, even briefly.
But of course it shouldn't surprise me that the philosophy of supplementation also went too far. You can't cure autism, and while supplements can improve the lives and functioning of... well, anyone really, not just those of us on the spectrum... it's not going to magically make everything better unless your problems are directly caused by a nutrient deficit. Autism is a bit more complicated than that.
The book also covers the development of the movie Rain Man. I... feel more sympathetic toward the creators of the movie, having read their story. I probably shouldn't be so harsh, it's just that Rain Man became everyone's concept of autism, and it's not even close to an accurate depiction of me, or really any of my friends. It did pave the way for more acceptance of the autism spectrum as an approachable thing, though. So I probably shouldn't be so hard on it, especially since I haven't seen it yet. I mentioned holding off on reading NeuroTribes because of nerves. Suffice it to say I have even worse of a problem with Rain Man.
I have about 100 pages to go in the book, but they're likely to be pages on which I'll have a lot of commentary, given that I was actually alive for the time period. See you next week!
This is the continuation of my multipart series on the book NeuroTribes, by Steve Silberman. It's been an adventure through history so far. Silberman carefully portrays dozens of people who were instrumental to the development of our understanding of autism. And there are dozens, for though our knowledge of autism is less than a century old, it took everyone from authors to inventors to parents to scientists to get us to where we are now.
I'm about 2/3rds of the way through the book now. We've touched, very briefly, on behaviorism and Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA).
I have mixed feelings about behaviorism. Its base and roots are... cold. Followed mindlessly, its methods are inhumane. Behaviorism basically treats people like machines, or animals. The concept of Pavlov's dogs is a common one, where he trained them to drool at the ring of a bell by using meat powder. Behaviorism, and ABA, go further than that, and use more complicated methods... but all of it considers the subject's feelings and thoughts (other than the ones directly related to the treatment) irrelevant. Yes, irrelevant. The major things that make us human are considered irrelevant to behaviorism. This is mentioned, albeit in a sidelong manner, in the book. You can see why I might not be super-pleased with it, as a school of thought. The humanity of autistic people is denied often enough without a branch of science training people to do it.
That said, the vast majority of the practitioners of ABA that I've met are not cold or heartless, and practice their craft with empathy and kindness. They try to get inside the child's head, rather than ignoring their humanity, and personalize their methods to appeal best to that child. ABA has evolved from its roots, which is just as well given that it's the only therapy most insurances will pay for. The reason for that is because it's been shown, time and time again, that modifying behavior is a tactic that works.
It's been a long process, though, which is detailed here. Electric shock via cattle prod, outright physical abuse, and systematic dehumanization paved the way to ABA's current state. I'm horrified to learn that those same methods were applied to gay, lesbian, and transgendered children to try to "correct" their society-disapproved behavior.
Silberman also notes the application of supplements to improving the lives of autistic children. Given that autism itself, in my opinion, does not necessarily cause my hypersensitivity to sound and light, or my anxiety disorder, or my low-grade depression, and those things have been helped some by vitamin and mineral supplementation, I'm pleased to see it show up here, even briefly.
But of course it shouldn't surprise me that the philosophy of supplementation also went too far. You can't cure autism, and while supplements can improve the lives and functioning of... well, anyone really, not just those of us on the spectrum... it's not going to magically make everything better unless your problems are directly caused by a nutrient deficit. Autism is a bit more complicated than that.
The book also covers the development of the movie Rain Man. I... feel more sympathetic toward the creators of the movie, having read their story. I probably shouldn't be so harsh, it's just that Rain Man became everyone's concept of autism, and it's not even close to an accurate depiction of me, or really any of my friends. It did pave the way for more acceptance of the autism spectrum as an approachable thing, though. So I probably shouldn't be so hard on it, especially since I haven't seen it yet. I mentioned holding off on reading NeuroTribes because of nerves. Suffice it to say I have even worse of a problem with Rain Man.
I have about 100 pages to go in the book, but they're likely to be pages on which I'll have a lot of commentary, given that I was actually alive for the time period. See you next week!
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