When Autism Becomes a Struggle Over Truth

There is something strange happening when autism is discussed publicly.

The conversation quickly becomes loud. Front lines are drawn. Some speak as if autism is primarily a tragedy. Others speak as if autism is merely an identity. Some desperately search for causes in environmental toxins, food, medication, or modern lifestyles. Others react by dismissing the entire debate as dangerous or stigmatizing.

In the middle of all this stand the people who actually live with autism — children, adolescents, adults, parents, and families — trying to make life hold together.

Perhaps this is where practical philosophy must begin.

Not in ideological battles.
Not in political slogans.

But in the questions:

How do people actually live with this?
How do they experience the world?
How can we meet one another with dignity in the midst of uncertainty?

When the Human Being Disappears Behind the Diagnosis

The document I have read describes the intense debate that emerged in the United States after Robert F. Kennedy Jr. stated in April 2025 that autism should be understood as an epidemic linked to environmental influences.

The essay itself is academically balanced. It emphasizes that current research points toward a complex interaction between genetic and environmental factors, and that autism cannot be reduced to a single explanation.

Yet I feel that something important is often missing in these debates.

What is missing is the human being.

Modern society has enormous faith in explanations. We want causes. We want control. We want solutions.

When autism prevalence rises from 1 in 150 children to 1 in 31 children within a few decades, as the CDC now reports in the United States, concern naturally arises.

People ask:

What is happening?
What has changed?
Is it environmental toxins? Stress? Food? Medication? Technology?

These are legitimate questions.

Science must be allowed to investigate such questions without immediately being dismissed as dangerous or irresponsible.

But another problem appears when the debate becomes purely biological or political:

The human being risks disappearing behind the diagnosis.

A Child Sitting at the Back of the Classroom

I myself live with autism spectrum disorder. But when I was a child, the diagnosis as we know it today did not yet exist.

No one spoke about neurodiversity. No one tried to understand why some children reacted differently from others.

In elementary school I was seen as a disruptive child. I would suddenly laugh loudly when I became stressed, and I was frequently sent to the principal’s office for disturbing the class.

Sometimes I was made to sit at the back of the classroom with my back turned toward the teacher and the other children, sharpening pencils.

Strangely enough, I liked it.

It felt liberating to be alone with a concrete task and free from the overwhelming impressions around me.

When I look back on this today, I think no one truly tried to understand what was happening inside the child.

People only saw that the child was different.

The World of Books

During my teenage years I spent much of my time alone.

I found companionship in the world of books and read intensely despite my dyslexia. Books became more than knowledge. They became a place to exist.

A space where the world could be understood more slowly and coherently than in the social world around me.

Many people on the spectrum may recognize this.

Some find safety in systems.
Others in music.
Others in nature.
Others in computers, trains, mathematics, or art.

I found much of my safety in books and ideas.

When I look back on these experiences today, they carry a different meaning than they once did. My experiences have acquired a new language.

That does not mean my entire life should be interpreted through a diagnosis. But the diagnosis makes it possible to see patterns that previously appeared only as restlessness, difference, or personal weakness.

Perhaps this is also important to understand in today’s autism debate:

Many adults live with experiences they have never previously had words for.

The Masks We Wear

Part of the increase in autism diagnoses is probably connected to the fact that society understands autism differently today than in earlier generations. The document also points this out. Autism is no longer understood only as a severe childhood disorder, but as a broad spectrum with enormous variation.

I believe this matters.

I grew up in a time when many people on the spectrum never received any diagnosis at all. They were perhaps perceived as “odd,” “overly sensitive,” “difficult,” “quiet,” or “strange.”

Some eventually found their own place in life. Others collapsed under the pressure.

As an adult I gradually became highly skilled at playing roles. I learned to wear masks that made me appear more “normal.”

I became an expert at reading situations, adapting, and hiding parts of myself that might seem different.

But it came at a cost.

The constant stress of monitoring oneself and trying to fit in slowly wears down the body.

Many people on the spectrum describe this today as masking or camouflaging.

I think many people outside the spectrum underestimate how exhausting this can be.

When the Body Says Stop

Eventually, I hit the wall.

I developed Ménière’s disease — a chronic condition involving severe vertigo that changed my working life completely.

It was painful.

But at the same time, the illness forced another direction upon my life.

I returned to books. To the university. To the slow and reflective life of thought.

And there I experienced something I had rarely felt before:

A sense of belonging. Consistent rutines created predictability for the first time for me. A feeling of safety and acceptance.

In academia I encountered people with whom I felt a deep kinship. Not because we were identical, but because many of them also carried intensity, difference, social awkwardness, or a powerful need for immersion and depth.

I recognized something of myself in them.

Perhaps this is one of the most important things we can do for people on the spectrum:

Not try to make everyone the same, but help people find their own place in the world.

Finding One’s Home

Some discover their strengths in academia.
Others in art.
Others in technology.
Others in craftsmanship, nature, animals, or music.

Human beings need places where they feel safe enough to be themselves without constant masking.

Perhaps all people need this.

But perhaps people on the spectrum need it even more deeply.

Practical philosophy is not merely about theories of human existence. It is also about how human beings can actually live good lives.

Aristotle called this phronesis — practical wisdom.

Not abstract theory, but wisdom in relation to real people and real lives.

Perhaps this is precisely what is often missing from the autism debate.

More listening.
Less certainty.
More lived experience.
Less ideology.

Between Neurodiversity and Suffering

One of the most difficult debates concerns neurodiversity.

The neurodiversity movement has contributed something important:
It has challenged the assumption that people should only be understood through deficiency and dysfunction.

This is valuable.

Many autistic individuals possess remarkable strengths in analysis, systematization, detail-focus, creativity, or endurance.

But there is also a danger here.

If autism becomes romanticized, suffering risks disappearing from view.

Some people on the spectrum live with severe functional difficulties, anxiety, depression, or profound social isolation. Many families live under heavy burdens.

Practical philosophy must therefore be capable of holding two thoughts simultaneously:

Autism is not merely a defect to be eliminated.
But autism is also not merely an identity detached from suffering.

Reality is more complex.

The Search for Causes

The document describes how research points toward both genetic and environmental factors.

Twin studies show high heritability, while researchers also investigate environmental influences during pregnancy, air pollution, infections, and epigenetic mechanisms.

These are important areas of research.

But we must also proceed carefully.

History shows that human beings often seek simple explanations for complex realities.

When parents experience that their child develops autism, a deep need for meaning naturally arises.

What happened?
Could it have been prevented?
Did we do something wrong?

These are profoundly human questions.

But they can also make people vulnerable to simplistic explanations and ideological narratives.

Practical philosophy reminds us that human understanding is never purely technical.

We always interpret experience through fear, hope, guilt, and personal history.

Another Way of Understanding the Human Being

Perhaps we also need a broader understanding of what a human being actually is.

Modern society often evaluates people according to function, speed, and efficiency.

But human value cannot be reduced to productivity.

Some of the most thoughtful, creative, and sensitive people I have met have also carried great vulnerability.

Practical philosophy reminds us that human beings are not machines to be optimized.

Human beings are vulnerable and interpretive creatures trying to find their place in the world.

Conclusion

The autism debate is ultimately about something larger than autism itself.

It is about how modern society understands difference.
How we respond to vulnerability.
How we relate to science.
How human beings try to find a place where they truly belong.

We need research.
We need genetics and neuroscience.
We need knowledge about environmental factors and life trajectories.

But we also need something more.

We need people who can listen.
People who can tolerate complexity.
People who do not turn autism into either fear or ideology.

And perhaps above all, we need to help people find their own homes in the world.

Places where they do not constantly have to perform roles.
Places where their strengths can emerge.
Places where difference is not merely tolerated, but understood.

For me, the university became such a place.

For others, it may be entirely different spaces in life.

Perhaps practical philosophy begins precisely here:

Not in trying to make all human beings the same.
But in helping human beings find a way to be human — with dignity, safety, and the freedom to be themselves.