Is autism a disability? This is a question that’s been on my mind recently. I think the answer is – if you feel it is, and if it needs to be. More on the latter in a moment.
As autism is a spectrum condition, there comes a point where its severity would be classed as a disability. I once attended a sudden-death call-out involving a young man with severe autism – let’s call him Peter. Peter lived in a residential care facility. He was unable to communicate with the outside world at all – this was regarded as a profound learning disability – and he was also severely physically disabled, needing 24 hr care. Despite him being confined to bed or a wheelchair, Peter’s carers worked hard to give him a decent quality of life. They showed me photos of a day out in London they had organised for Peter and some the other residents. The staff remarked that they were sure that Peter had enjoyed himself that day – they thought he smiled, as he did from time to time, but no one could tell for sure. What went on in Peter’s head was a mystery known only to him.
One night as he slept, Peter got his neck into an awkward position on his pillow, and he stopped breathing. His short time in the world had come to an end. As I sat with him waiting for the undertaker to arrive, I reflected that although everyone would agree that Peter’s autism was a disability, would he have seen it that way? Who knew how he saw the world and himself?
I’ve since felt that compared to Peter, problems fitting into a social scene or needing somewhere quiet to work are not disabilities at all, just aspects of who we are. Unfortunately, the failure of some work colleagues and supervisors to accept this may require an employee affected by Asperger syndrome or high-functioning autism to class it as a disability in order to be protected by the Equality Act. The Act defines disability as “a physical or mental impairment which has a substantial and long-term effect on the ability to carry out normal day-to-day activities.” Aside from whether AS is classed as a “mental impairment”, the effect on normal day-to-day activities may tick the disability box for the purposes of the EA, but in practice may be entirely down to how others – and “the job” – sees the condition and reacts to it.
When explaining AS to a neuro-typical person, I’ve found it useful to compare the different ‘social wiring’ to a dislike of certain foods. Everything has something they don’t like to eat – let’s say you’re like me and can’t stand Brussels sprouts (ugh). Is this a problem for you? Would you like to be cured? What if your children grow up not liking sprouts? Now consider if every restaurant you ate in served up sprout entrées with the main course. The highly-strung chef (think Gordon Ramsay on a bad day) would come out of the kitchen and berate you if you declined their beautiful sprout ravioli. You start bringing in sandwiches to work because you don’t like the sprout lasagne that is always on the canteen menu, never mind the smell of them cooking (I’m starting to feel sick just typing this). This gets noticed by your sprout-loving colleagues, who think you’re a bit odd for not wanting to eat with them. Eventually you start being labelled as “not a team player” and passed over for career opportunities. How do you feel now about not being a “normal” sprout-lover? Is it your dislike of sprouts that’s the problem – or how other people react to it?
This is why I don’t consider AS to be a disability. Rather, I see it as DFPOW – Disabled For The Purposes Of Work.