Psychology Today: Imagine A World Where Aspergers Was Normal

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Imagine A World Where Aspergers Was The Norm
Imagine if non-autistics or neurotypicals were the minority.
Published on December 1, 2010

Imagine a world where Aspergers was the norm, and non-autistics or neurotypicals were the minority. Let's try it: Those who feel the need to constantly be with a variety of friends are considered fickle. Those with no propensity for computers and science are called geeks. Those with no special interest are thought to be ungrounded and lost. Those without obsessive focus have to take classes to cultivate it.

Those who insist on saying ‘have a nice day' and other polite exchanges of fairly empty niceties are taught to be honest and say what they think. People who go to shake hands are simply thought unhygienic. And of course, you would never be expected to hug someone just because they shared an ancestor or a common acquaintance.

Teens who live for the mall are not as cool as those who read, write, draw, invent and play instruments all day. People who feel the need to dress like others are conformist and unimaginative. Girls who spend hours a day straightening their hair are recommended for counseling. People who never rock or squeal in public are considered repressed. People who talk about what other people are up to are gossips, while those who monologue are fountains of knowledge to be shared by anyone who cares to listen.

People who hold conversations over loud TV sets and who install fluorescent lights in their homes are insensitive and coarse. People who need soft fabrics and heavy blankets are revered, like the girl in the story "The Princess and the Pea". Those without strict rituals are disorganized and chaotic. Those who come early, work hard and don't hang around the water cooler are gurus to be respected and emulated.

Are you offended by this post? Does it sound strangely bigoted to you? Why? We aspies are expected to take social skills classes. We are expected to be team players. We are called geeks because we can throw together a system after just reading a manual or watching one Youtube video. We are weird because we can recite the entire script of the Holy Grail, or name every saxophone player of consequence in the history of jazz.

We are expected to say hi, nice to meet you, shake hands and even receive hugs and kisses because NTs (neurotypicals) think that is appropriate. We are expected to look, sound and act like our peers to some degree, and to repress our most innate urges to stim because others think it is creepy. I'm not saying Aspies are perfect, far from it, I'm just providing a different vantage point.

I wonder how much of this social skills stuff is really necessary. I sing jazz, so I understand the value of being a team player when it's called for; listening and respecting the role of others is crucial to being a good musician. But I'm talking about the little rituals that NTs seem to require with a mindless zeal. I can put on the happy face, I can say and do what is expected of me for a short time, but eventually the real me must come out. I wish everyone would read about Aspergers, stop judging those who are different just as different races have had to learn to respect one another, and just as men had to learn to deal with women when they entered the work force and demanded respect and equal rights.

I appreciate the sentiment in the article, but frankly, life would suck without NTs.

H.L. Mencken said,"I reserve the right to be a lonely man." I don’t crave companionship. It stands in my way. I live for pleasure. There are few persons who can give me as much pleasure as those acts I perform myself. I would rather create pleasure according to my own whim than be subjected to whims of others. Invariably, I wind up entertaining others. Or educating them. There is no push/pull. It is only pull, and they do the pulling.

I find greater companionship in inert figures, animals and speechless artifacts, for I can enjoy their presence and there is no psychic drain. In fact, by their very stimulation in accordance with my tailored ideals, they provide me with not only entertainment, but food for thought.

Why do I prefer androids to many "real" humans? Androids can be created, programmed and utilized exactly according to the master’s whims. They require no energy- consuming interaction in order to salve a non-existent ego. Yet even the semblance of an ego can be built into an android via actions and words – but always according to the Maker’s requirements. They can be shelved when they grow tiresome, brought back out when needed, modified in appearance, and destroyed without moral conscience. They are ideal companions. They never talk back, unless you want them to, yet you can insult them to your heart’s content. Insofar as work is concerned, that can be performed by either non-humanoid machines or humans of limited intelligence operating machines of greater intelligence. Androids offer splendid companionship when cast in the physical semblance of human beings. And for all most people really have to say, they might as well say nothing. Essentially, they are merely decorations in a room – humanoids to alleviate what might be construed as loneliness.

Most human interaction, being nothing more than small talk and games, is no waste of time to those so engaged. It is, in fact necessary, to their survival, for they would die of boredom otherwise. To the Maker, the archetype, the self-sustainer, human interaction is usually a waste of the most precious thing in his vital existence:time. Time spent in "being liked" could better be devoted to liking being.

It is easy for me to expound these attitudes. I do not search for a beloved, yet am loved by one who treads the stars. In addition, I can do, as well as be. I can honestly say, "I am that I am." Unless one can, he cannot be interdependent. One must be whole before one can be alone and yet not alone.

What keeps me going? What justifies my existence? That which sustains me is the knowledge that, were I to fall prey to trouble, to fail, to sicken, to die, it would please so many people, that my strength is in my existence.

When I think of all those who would rejoice at my discomfort, I am energized and strengthened to the extent that I might overcome any malaise. It is not my love for mankind that sustains me, but rather mankind’s resentment for me. My disdain and contempt for the mediocre masses in general and those who calumniate in particular angers me to regeneration.

My right I have made for myself, by not what I can do, but by how important it is for others that I be resented, maligned, misunderstood and hated. You’ll seldom hear me complain about my lot, for it is according to my precise design. Even if it were not, I doubt that I would gripe. I hate complainers. Nobody gives a s**t about anybody else’s grievances. When one caterwauls his troubles to another, it simply weakens the complainer in the listener’s eyes. Far better to arouse further antagonism by disappointing your detractors by your refusal to display unease.

I refuse to sicken because it will make my enemies healthier. I refuse to break off relations with any worthwhile companion because if I did, it would make others’ loneliness more bearable. I refuse my sorrow to be known, for my sorrow is another’s joy. I even dislike showing wrath, for to one who recieves little attention, my wrath would brighten his heart.

I admire my bull terrier, Typhon, who can rage and snarl and try to kill while wagging his tail. It is patently sport – enjoyment – for him to snarl and tear at his opponent. A great lesson can be learned from him. He will not give his victim the satisfaction of thinking that, in his rage, he might be unhappy. On the contrary, he is a blight to his victim all the more because his victim can never be satisfied as a masochist is satisfied by another’s drubbing. Unless you can rejoice in making your antagonist miserable, your antagonist will sap your vitality by the humourless wrath he has incurred in you. The sobriety of your anger will increase your unintended charity with each blow you strike, and you will be lesser for it. Through practice, I now enact my formula of turning rage into enjoyable sport so automatically and effortlessly, that it is seldom, if ever, possible for another to reap pleasure from my anger.

I defy ill wishes of my enemies by rejoicing in their discomfort. If I did not pain them, I should not be their enemy. If I need do nothing save exist in my present form in order to make enemies, I am indeed fortunate, for to know me is to hate me. One hates what one fears. I have acquired power without conscious effort, by simply being.

I will never die because my death would enrich the unfit. I could never be that charitable.

Is it irony that the only times I have progressed is when I have hurt someone else? Or does evil really conquer good in the end? It appears that evil (fear) is the prime mover, while goodness is complacency and stagnation. Goodness invokes either approbation or saccharin contempt. Evil creates action and reaction. Without that the race would have died long ago. Not that that would have been so terrible, save it would have meant extermination of the Devils – those persons who love life enough to want to consciously experience its pleasures, the pleasures they devise and discover on their own.

Once upon a time, when I had certain befuddled ideals, I might have found John Donne’s No Man Is An Island justification for mediocrity inclusive of myself. "Because people need people," is now too little justification for their existence. I need persons – certain persons, not people. The word "people" has achieved an egalitarian connotation I find repugnant.

There are some men that are islands, entire of themselves, but most are pieces of the continent – parts of the maine. If a clod – and clods they be – is washed away by the sea, the mainland is richer, albeit smaller. If a promontory were washed away, then some small alarm might be caused if one’s manor built from unique efforts stood upon it. But no man’s death, save he who stands by me, diminishes me. Other men’s deaths make the earth a sweeter, finer place for those who have the capacity to relish each moment spent upon it. Each useless drone’s death enriches me. I am involved in growth, and the incompetent dead can at best provide fertilizer. Then, though the land may be lesser in size, it will be richer in soil and lusher in visage. Therefore, never send to know for whom the bell tolls. It tolls because someone is being paid to pull the rope.

—Anton Szandor La Vey

You've not really given a reason for this... Your parody seems to suggest you'd like NTs to stay because of the drama they cause...

That's certainly part of it, but even in a general sense, I dare a world of Aspies only to keep things interesting. I have serious doubts it can be fulfilled.

I think this is rather stupid. I personally just want NT's to accept my differences, I don't want to treat them like we've been treated. I mean come on, let's not stoop to that level.