Astounded this weekend to see, on the New York gossip blog Gawker, a short piece supposedly satirising the New York Times' exaggerated coverage of autism. The post, titled New York Times Autism Round-up, did indeed lead to four different articles on autism (one from Thursday, but who's counting?) -- enough for most non-specialists from one newspaper.
Among them, a story on Daniel Tammet, an English man who has Asperger's, and who more importantly has been diagnosed Savants Syndrome. I've been planning a blog post on Tammet since seeing the film made about him by the British Five TV company, which I'd seen on Google Video via the excellent smashingtelly site, which gathers full-length TV programmes on a daily basis. The film is called The Boy with the Incredible Brain.
To cut a long story short, Tammet was a difficult infant who wouldn't stop crying. He then suffered multiple seizures, after which he found he now had the ability to "see" numbers in his mind in an infinite variety of shapes and colours. This is a condition neurologists call synaesthesia, though it's written about more evocatively by Jorge Luis Borges in his story Funes the Memorious, in which Funes, following head trauma, cannot forget a single detail of anything he has ever seen, including every configuration of cloud in every sky he has ever looked at.
Those cloud formations are akin to numbers as Daniel Tammet sees them, and he is able to imagine impossibly complex numbers by, to put it terribly roughly, visualising himself withinI the landscape in which they exist.
As a result, he can perform massive calculations in his head in seconds flat, and was able to memorise the constant Pi to an impressive 22,500 places. The film captures that feat, and follows him as he meets autism experts like Simon Baron Cohen, neurologists and fellow autistics, like Kim Peek, said to be the inspiration for Dustin Hoffman's character in Rain Man.
I'll be posting a review of Rain Man, which I consider to be a pernicious influence on public perception of autism, one of these days. I'll also come back to the Daniel Tammet film, which troubled me in a number of ways and yet deserves more detailed consideration.
One thing I won't have the luxury of coming back to after further cogitation, however, is a reading of Daniel Tammet's autobiography, Born on a Blue Day (which gives this post its title) on BBC Radio 4, which you can listen to on the Internet for one week. The first 15-minute extract went out today, with further extracts daily for the rest of the week. I'm not at all sure they do an omnibus edition, so don't count on it.
I dare say I'll have some comment to make after I've listened to all of it.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Temple Grandin
"I have the nervous system of a prey species animal," remarks Dr. Temple Grandin in the documentary The Woman Who Thinks Like a Cow, available on Google Video. Fear, she says, is her main emotion, and often in the course of this 40-minute film, she looks and acts as if she were being hunted. Some of the time, in my view, she is.
Dr. Grandin's reputation is such that she needs little introduction. Severely autistic as a child to the point where her father almost had her institutionalised, she achieved a breakthrough when she was sent to an aunt's ranch in Arizona and discovered a remarkable affinity with animals. Since then she has gained a doctorate in animal sciences, and has made a worldwide reputation as an expert in animal behaviour at the slaughterhouse. Her insights have made the slaughtering of animals less of an ordeal for them, and along the way more straightforward and presumably profitable for the meat industry. Whether there's a conflict between the two, Dr. Grandin takes a resolutely realistic line. She's not interested in ideology, she points out, but in what is practical and applicable in real life.
The title of the film is sensationalistic, and doubtless intended to evoke Oliver Sacks, in whose book An Anthropologist on Mars Dr. Grandin was featured. It also sets up a strange paradox. Aren't we supposed to think that autistics are unable to empathise, to put themselves into another person's shoes, or brain? If autistics are supposed to be assumed to have no Theory of Mind where fellow humans are concerned, what are we to make of one who sees the world through a cow's eyes?
In the event, I don't think on the basis of this film that such a thing is happening at all. I should issue the caveat that although I have recently bought Dr. Grandin's book Animals in Translation, I haven't yet got around to reading it, and so this opinion will be, as all opinions should be, subject to later review as more information comes in.
What I think Dr. Grandin is doing, is looking at the situation cows are put into not from a bovine point of view, but with a problem-solving clarity. It doesn't strike me that she wants to improve efficiency and profit, which will doubtless have been the approach of most or all of those attempting to design slaughterhouse procedures in the past. She says she wants to take care of the animals' welfare, which is a slight bias. But her advice appears to me to be based on descriptive insights, rather than prescriptive principles. In other words, she seems to arrive at conclusions based on what she sees, and to see things based on her ability -- and willingness -- to look. That it can be stated in such apparently simple terms doesn't make it any less remarkable.
Temple Grandin is a remarkable person, for having overcome what seemed like a crippling disability to achieve the respect of the academic community, and also for having dared to enter the fortress of the macho meat industry as a woman and an academic, and brought them round to her way of thinking.
But the persistence of her feeling like a prey animal is still visible in this film, in large part because of the excruciatingly ham-fisted way she is handled. The interviewer/reporter is not credited, so I'm assuming she is writer-producer Emma Sutton. The questioning is as crass as you could imagine. Dr. Grandin is asked about boys she may have liked at school, just as she's busy talking about the far more important subject of being picked on for being different. When Dr. Grandin picks out some magazines to take on board a plane for a flight to a meat-industry convention, and expresses a preference for fact-based magazines, Sutton still feels the need to press her on what she thinks of women's magazines. In her home, meanwhile, Dr. Grandin is as edgy and wary as a prey animal, and one is forced to conclude that Sutton wants it that way, for she does nothing to put Dr. Grandin at her ease. I had the unpleasant feeling during those exchanges that Sutton was prodding her to expose her freakishness -- because without such prodding she comes across as slightly awkward, but not freakish in any way.
And why on earth is Dr. Grandin referred to throughout as "Temple"? Does the BBC make documentaries on Professor Stephen Hawking in which he's called "Stephen"? Is Professor Dawkins "Richard"?
Oliver Sacks (perhaps I should just call him Oliver) offers a clue. In his written work, Sacks consistently refers to the subjects by their first names, perhaps to preserve a measure of anonymity. As he's writing of her as a subject in his book (see above) he calls her "Temple".
But Emma Sutton is not in that position, and it's notable that other people in the film are given their proper names. There's no talk of "Bruno" when she's referring to the famed developmental psychologist Bettelheim. The constant reference to "Temple" throughout the film was the most grating thing about it. I found it inappropriate, demeaning and disrespectful, in a "Does he take sugar?" kind of way.
The film also missed the chance in its concentration on the meat industry to explore two aspects of Dr. Grandin's experience which are common among autistics and which she might be in a position to articulate more fully: the attention -- often to the exclusion of all else -- on tiny details of a picture; and the problem of sensory overload, which to be fair was dealt with more extensively, especially as it gave the film-makers a chance to show Dr. Grandin enclosing herself in a grab-chute of her own devising, the Squeeze Machine, modelled on the ones found on cattle-farms, which she uses to apply the deep all-over pressure which she needs to calm herself in stressful times.
The film is of great interest, finally, because its subject is. Anyone interested in autism cannot pass over Temple Grandin as a matter for study, and this film was worthwhile despite its makers' approach, not because of it. Luckily, Dr. Grandin's own books and other autobiographical works (see her own website for details) more than cover for any failings on the part of the BBC. If the film sends people in that direction to find out more, it will have served a useful purpose. But what a missed opportunity.
Dr. Grandin's reputation is such that she needs little introduction. Severely autistic as a child to the point where her father almost had her institutionalised, she achieved a breakthrough when she was sent to an aunt's ranch in Arizona and discovered a remarkable affinity with animals. Since then she has gained a doctorate in animal sciences, and has made a worldwide reputation as an expert in animal behaviour at the slaughterhouse. Her insights have made the slaughtering of animals less of an ordeal for them, and along the way more straightforward and presumably profitable for the meat industry. Whether there's a conflict between the two, Dr. Grandin takes a resolutely realistic line. She's not interested in ideology, she points out, but in what is practical and applicable in real life.
The title of the film is sensationalistic, and doubtless intended to evoke Oliver Sacks, in whose book An Anthropologist on Mars Dr. Grandin was featured. It also sets up a strange paradox. Aren't we supposed to think that autistics are unable to empathise, to put themselves into another person's shoes, or brain? If autistics are supposed to be assumed to have no Theory of Mind where fellow humans are concerned, what are we to make of one who sees the world through a cow's eyes?
In the event, I don't think on the basis of this film that such a thing is happening at all. I should issue the caveat that although I have recently bought Dr. Grandin's book Animals in Translation, I haven't yet got around to reading it, and so this opinion will be, as all opinions should be, subject to later review as more information comes in.
What I think Dr. Grandin is doing, is looking at the situation cows are put into not from a bovine point of view, but with a problem-solving clarity. It doesn't strike me that she wants to improve efficiency and profit, which will doubtless have been the approach of most or all of those attempting to design slaughterhouse procedures in the past. She says she wants to take care of the animals' welfare, which is a slight bias. But her advice appears to me to be based on descriptive insights, rather than prescriptive principles. In other words, she seems to arrive at conclusions based on what she sees, and to see things based on her ability -- and willingness -- to look. That it can be stated in such apparently simple terms doesn't make it any less remarkable.
Temple Grandin is a remarkable person, for having overcome what seemed like a crippling disability to achieve the respect of the academic community, and also for having dared to enter the fortress of the macho meat industry as a woman and an academic, and brought them round to her way of thinking.
But the persistence of her feeling like a prey animal is still visible in this film, in large part because of the excruciatingly ham-fisted way she is handled. The interviewer/reporter is not credited, so I'm assuming she is writer-producer Emma Sutton. The questioning is as crass as you could imagine. Dr. Grandin is asked about boys she may have liked at school, just as she's busy talking about the far more important subject of being picked on for being different. When Dr. Grandin picks out some magazines to take on board a plane for a flight to a meat-industry convention, and expresses a preference for fact-based magazines, Sutton still feels the need to press her on what she thinks of women's magazines. In her home, meanwhile, Dr. Grandin is as edgy and wary as a prey animal, and one is forced to conclude that Sutton wants it that way, for she does nothing to put Dr. Grandin at her ease. I had the unpleasant feeling during those exchanges that Sutton was prodding her to expose her freakishness -- because without such prodding she comes across as slightly awkward, but not freakish in any way.
And why on earth is Dr. Grandin referred to throughout as "Temple"? Does the BBC make documentaries on Professor Stephen Hawking in which he's called "Stephen"? Is Professor Dawkins "Richard"?
Oliver Sacks (perhaps I should just call him Oliver) offers a clue. In his written work, Sacks consistently refers to the subjects by their first names, perhaps to preserve a measure of anonymity. As he's writing of her as a subject in his book (see above) he calls her "Temple".
But Emma Sutton is not in that position, and it's notable that other people in the film are given their proper names. There's no talk of "Bruno" when she's referring to the famed developmental psychologist Bettelheim. The constant reference to "Temple" throughout the film was the most grating thing about it. I found it inappropriate, demeaning and disrespectful, in a "Does he take sugar?" kind of way.
The film also missed the chance in its concentration on the meat industry to explore two aspects of Dr. Grandin's experience which are common among autistics and which she might be in a position to articulate more fully: the attention -- often to the exclusion of all else -- on tiny details of a picture; and the problem of sensory overload, which to be fair was dealt with more extensively, especially as it gave the film-makers a chance to show Dr. Grandin enclosing herself in a grab-chute of her own devising, the Squeeze Machine, modelled on the ones found on cattle-farms, which she uses to apply the deep all-over pressure which she needs to calm herself in stressful times.
The film is of great interest, finally, because its subject is. Anyone interested in autism cannot pass over Temple Grandin as a matter for study, and this film was worthwhile despite its makers' approach, not because of it. Luckily, Dr. Grandin's own books and other autobiographical works (see her own website for details) more than cover for any failings on the part of the BBC. If the film sends people in that direction to find out more, it will have served a useful purpose. But what a missed opportunity.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
Introduction?
A friend has suggested I start this blog off with an introductory post, for the benefit of anyone who doesn't know much about autism or Asperger's.
I can see the force of that idea, but on the other hand I'm thinking: Who the hell am I to introduce people to this subject?
Let me lay it out as simply as I can. My son, after a long period of disturbed behaviour, and being evaluated by a child psychiatrist and other therapists, was finally diagnosed as Asperger's in 2006. Up to that point I had been vaguely aware of the term and its relation to the autism spectrum, without knowing very much about it. The pieces, however, very quickly fell into place. Olivier, as we'll be calling him, has always shown a level of intellectual development far ahead of his emotional maturity, a discrepancy which in itself seemed to be the root of frustration that led to aggressive and violent outbursts. He's socially awkward, not at all a bright outgoing child like his classmates. But that seemed like a reaction (his sister is very accomplished and slightly overbearing; I myself am socially distant, undemonstrative, cold in public) rather than a symptom.
Olivier has now been fully evaluated by the clinic who diagnosed him, and will be subject only to periodic evaluations for the time being. His school has two teachers who have training in dealing with autistics (though he's the only one diagnosed) and they're fully up to speed. We've been introduced to a psychiatric counsellor with experience of autism who'll be available when required, for any of us who needs it.
There's no cure for autism or Asperger's, and the more I read about the subject the less I'm convinced that a cure would even be desirable, in some if not all cases. Our job now is to help Olivier to grow up with his different way of looking at the world, making the most of it wherever possible and trimming it if need be to ease his own passage through life, and no-one else's.
I've become what you might call independently fascinated by the whole subject of autism. Most of what you find out is not actually of immediate personal use to me, my son or my family. But it's valuable in itself as knowledge, and as perspective. A painting like the Mona Lisa would only be part so effective if it dwelled on her face, and ignored the landscape in the distance.
The intention of this blog is to share things that I come across as I range freely across that landscape, perhaps making it easier for others who are looking for a way. But I won't be introducing anyone to the subject of autism so much as describing a few of the landmarks I've come across in my wandering.
For anyone who knows even less about Asperger's, there's a comprehensive if technical introduction here from Yale University. The British Autism Society lays out the whole subject of autism quite neatly at its site. The Wikipedia article is quite thorough, and as far as I can tell reliable.
The rest of this blog, I should imagine, will be my introductory post, serving to explain the subject to readers, as I explain it to myself. Perhaps more than any other blog, I'm open to having my notions taken apart by anyone who knows more and approaches the task in a civilised way. I hope along the way to have interesting material for all levels, but I hope more than anything else to do no harm by the exercise.
I can see the force of that idea, but on the other hand I'm thinking: Who the hell am I to introduce people to this subject?
Let me lay it out as simply as I can. My son, after a long period of disturbed behaviour, and being evaluated by a child psychiatrist and other therapists, was finally diagnosed as Asperger's in 2006. Up to that point I had been vaguely aware of the term and its relation to the autism spectrum, without knowing very much about it. The pieces, however, very quickly fell into place. Olivier, as we'll be calling him, has always shown a level of intellectual development far ahead of his emotional maturity, a discrepancy which in itself seemed to be the root of frustration that led to aggressive and violent outbursts. He's socially awkward, not at all a bright outgoing child like his classmates. But that seemed like a reaction (his sister is very accomplished and slightly overbearing; I myself am socially distant, undemonstrative, cold in public) rather than a symptom.
Olivier has now been fully evaluated by the clinic who diagnosed him, and will be subject only to periodic evaluations for the time being. His school has two teachers who have training in dealing with autistics (though he's the only one diagnosed) and they're fully up to speed. We've been introduced to a psychiatric counsellor with experience of autism who'll be available when required, for any of us who needs it.
There's no cure for autism or Asperger's, and the more I read about the subject the less I'm convinced that a cure would even be desirable, in some if not all cases. Our job now is to help Olivier to grow up with his different way of looking at the world, making the most of it wherever possible and trimming it if need be to ease his own passage through life, and no-one else's.
I've become what you might call independently fascinated by the whole subject of autism. Most of what you find out is not actually of immediate personal use to me, my son or my family. But it's valuable in itself as knowledge, and as perspective. A painting like the Mona Lisa would only be part so effective if it dwelled on her face, and ignored the landscape in the distance.
The intention of this blog is to share things that I come across as I range freely across that landscape, perhaps making it easier for others who are looking for a way. But I won't be introducing anyone to the subject of autism so much as describing a few of the landmarks I've come across in my wandering.
For anyone who knows even less about Asperger's, there's a comprehensive if technical introduction here from Yale University. The British Autism Society lays out the whole subject of autism quite neatly at its site. The Wikipedia article is quite thorough, and as far as I can tell reliable.
The rest of this blog, I should imagine, will be my introductory post, serving to explain the subject to readers, as I explain it to myself. Perhaps more than any other blog, I'm open to having my notions taken apart by anyone who knows more and approaches the task in a civilised way. I hope along the way to have interesting material for all levels, but I hope more than anything else to do no harm by the exercise.
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