Our Big Fat Intolerant Society

An article in Newsweek addresses the issue of why there is so much prejudice against heavy people in the United States, even though most of the population is either overweight or obese. The authors observe that weight gain is generally seen as a consequence of personal failings such as gluttony and lack of willpower, even though a modern sedentary lifestyle makes weight management quite difficult and many people have a genetic predisposition toward obesity. Some of the hostility toward the obese, they suggest, could be misplaced anger arising from the frustration that many people feel as a result of struggling to lose weight. People tend to attribute their own failings to their circumstances, while blaming others for having made bad choices. And there's also a bit of general mob mentality thrown in, the authors conclude:


What is it about fat people that makes us so mad? As it turns out, we kind of like it. "People actually enjoy feeling angry," says Ryan Martin, associate professor of psychology at the University of Wisconsin, Green Bay, who cites studies done on people's emotions. "It makes them feel powerful, it makes them feel greater control, and they appreciate it for that reason." And with fat people designated as acceptable targets of rage—and with the prevalence of fat people in our lives, both in the malls and on the news—it's easy to find a target for some soul-clearing, ego-boosting ranting.


The authors also point out that public statements and articles describing obesity as a burden to the health care system have contributed to a widespread perception that the obese are consuming more than their fair share of resources. At the end of the article, health policy expert Deborah Levine is quoted as stating that although the goal of efforts to raise awareness about obesity as a medical problem has been to fight obesity and not obese people, "it's very hard for many people to disentangle the two."

When I read this article, I was struck by how closely it parallels what autistic rights activists have been writing about the "war on autism" rhetoric and the use of cost statistics in awareness campaigns. One might say that the human species has not advanced as far beyond primitive tribalism as we like to think. When social issues are framed in terms of battling against a dangerous enemy, such language incites fear and anger on a mostly subconscious level. We react instinctively as if we were our prehistoric ancestors going to war to defend the tribe's scarce resources against invaders.

It's not simply, as the article suggests, that people scapegoat and attack unpopular minority groups just because we "enjoy feeling angry." Somewhere in the less evolved depths of our brains, we actually feel that we are righteous warriors protecting the tribe. Because battlefield imagery evokes such strong emotional responses, it works very effectively as a tool of demagogues and unscrupulous fundraising campaigns. Logical arguments often fail to have any effect in countering such rhetoric because of its inherently irrational nature.

So what's the answer? Well, frankly, I think our society needs to grow up—to become self-aware enough so that we can avoid being manipulated by propaganda of this sort. With just a smidge more maturity, it shouldn't be too difficult to comprehend that autistics, the obese, and other stigmatized groups are not wicked enemies stealing our resources. Rather, they are our neighbors, our co-workers, our family members—and, quite often, ourselves.

Nate Tseglin: A Time to Heal

January 12, 2007.

That's when Nate Tseglin, who was only 16 years old at the time, was forcibly taken from his family's home in San Diego, California. It was the beginning of a nightmarish ordeal of captivity in a state institution where Nate was forced to take indiscriminately administered drugs that caused him to have seizures, was cut off from contact with his family and friends and community, and was prevented from completing his high school education. His crime? Being autistic.

When Nate, who had been a bright and thriving child in mainstream classes before beginning high school, got tested for an Asperger diagnosis, his parents no doubt thought it would help him to get a more understanding and accommodating school environment. Instead, the label turned out to be a ticket to blatant discrimination and exclusion. School officials treated Nate as incapable. Although Nate had been successful in honors classes and had even taken a college course over the summer, he was prevented from enrolling in advanced high school classes and was required to repeat work that he had already done.

Not surprisingly, Nate became anxious and depressed as a result of such mistreatment. He developed a bad habit of picking and scratching at his arms. His parents sought psychiatric help, but Nate could not tolerate the drugs that were tried. After that, his parents sent him to another school. A teacher saw the scratches on his arms and made a report to the local child protective agency, which investigated. Although the parents explained that Nate was physically unable to take several common psychiatric medications, no one listened, and the parents were accused of neglect. Nate was then sent to an institution where he was forcibly medicated with drugs that caused his health to deteriorate severely.

In desperation, the family turned to the Internet for help. Concerned bloggers and activists wrote about the case, contacted the media, and helped to arrange for legal assistance for the family. After many delays, a court hearing was held on May 27th, 2008. The Autistic Self Advocacy Network sent a letter to the court explaining why Nate did not belong in an institution. The judge ruled in Nate's favor, and Nate finally was freed after more than a year away from home.

There are some autism advocates who seek to get funds for services by touting flawed analyses that proclaim every child on the autistic spectrum will cost millions in lifetime care. This is what I have to say to anyone who sees nothing wrong with that strategy: You'd better take a good hard look at Nate Tseglin's case, because that is exactly where such rhetoric leads. If autistics are nothing but an expensive burden to society, then why bother educating them or providing any community services? Why not just dump them all in institutions so the normal folks won't have to be bothered with them? Why not put most of the funding into eugenics research, in the hope of wiping them all off the planet? That's where it leads.

Today, Nate Tseglin is in the thoughts and prayers of many people worldwide as he begins the slow process of healing—to the extent that it is possible to heal—from the extreme mental and physical trauma that he endured.

Today, there are other autistics even unluckier than Nate still languishing in institutions, forgotten by the world. Let us keep them in our thoughts also.

Advice for Pandering Politicians

Yeah, you know who you are. And if you want to get credit for being a good guy and supporting increased funding to help people with disabilities, you're going to have to do a hell of a lot better when it comes to explaining your message.

We may be living in a sound-bite society, but that does not justify using alarmist language and characterizing any group of people as a burden, or worse yet, as a "devastating burden." At best, such language is grossly insulting; and at worst, there's a foul stench of eugenics to it.

What's such a big deal, anyway, about the simple fact that it costs money to educate us and to provide the services and products that we need? Guess what, the same is true of your family, pal. The only difference is that society has categorized your family's educational and other needs as "normal," while arbitrarily excluding others from that privileged caste. You're no more deserving and no less expensive than anyone else—you just have the home field advantage.

Also, you're not making yourself look any better when you try to bolster your bigotry with lifetime cost statistics purporting to show that everyone who has a particular disability label is going to cost some exorbitant amount of money in lifetime care. That is just as wrong, and just as prejudiced, as claiming that every child born into a racial minority group is going to cost society huge amounts of welfare money.

This may come as a shock, but a lot of us go to work every day, just like you. Quite a few of us are living "in the closet," keeping our differences hidden in the workplace for fear of losing our jobs. Many others who have more obvious disabilities remain unemployed, not because they aren't capable of working, but because of hiring managers' prejudices. When you pay lip service to the need for more enforcement of anti-discrimination laws, while at the same time you make dehumanizing statements that suggest we're not really capable of productive work and just need someone to take care of us forever, you are definitely not helping.

And if you expect us to vote for you anyway just because you're throwing us a few crumbs—think again.

What are the costs?

Often in today's world, autistics (and other people with disability labels) are described as taking from but not contributing to society, as a devastating tragedy to their families, as an unsustainable burden to public welfare agencies, and so forth. The proposed solution is either cure or eugenics, depending on whether or not you're talking to someone who has a wonder cure to sell.

Quite apart from the inhumane nature of evaluating the existence of one's fellow citizens in terms better suited to industrial cost-benefit analyses, this view of disability fails even under its own terms because it doesn't take into account that there's an awful lot of costs, burdens, and emotional devastation on the other side of the equation. I'll list just a few of them for my readers to ponder:

What does widespread discrimination against qualified workers with disabilities cost our economy?

When children are inadequately educated in special needs classes, what is the cost of the resulting loss of productivity over a lifetime of unemployment or underemployment?

How much emotional devastation do families suffer because of stigma, stereotypes, and mass hysteria?

What is the amount of money wasted each year on researching potential cures that are unlikely to result in anything useful?

When large numbers of people feel that they cannot get reasonable opportunities in our society and console themselves with drugs and alcohol, what is the cost of that?

How much potential for lifetime achievement is lost every time an autistic teenager commits suicide because of prejudice and social rejection, and how much devastation must his family endure because of his loss?

What is the cost of being expected to do anything it takes, no matter how difficult, expensive, or emotionally distressing, to fit into our society's extremely narrow definition of normality?

When public welfare agencies see their role as providing only the least possible assistance, rather than providing the services needed to enable their clients to find productive niches in society, how much more does that end up costing in the long term?

How many families spend large amounts of their savings, or go into debt, buying purported cures and therapies that are either useless or actually harmful to their child?

The Cost of Cure

You'll find heaps of statistics (many of which contradict each other) floating around the Web about the cost of raising an autistic child. Some families spend $50,000 per year (or more) for an ABA program. Others go into debt to buy large quantities of therapeutic toys, or to fill their medicine cabinets with assorted biomed products, or to fly their kid to a tropical resort to swim with the dolphins. One thing is for sure, if a parent of an autistic child has money in the bank, there's always somebody around to make a sales pitch.

The essay I Can't Ever Die, on the Autism for Parents website, explains why so many parents are willing to spend these large sums. When they find that their child is autistic, parents often worry about what will happen if the child needs lifelong care. Who will provide for him when they are gone? How can they be sure that he won't end up helpless and destitute in an institution somewhere? This overwhelming fear and anxiety drives many parents to seek cure at all cost, believing that any expense and risk must be justified to save their child from such peril.

Anxiety about the future of one's child seems to be a common experience of parents generally, whether or not the child is autistic. This research study found that parents have significantly higher levels of depression than non-parents and that their depression levels increase as their children get older. The increase was attributed to anxiety about how well the children will be able to take care of themselves.

No doubt these strong emotions had a lot of evolutionary value to our cave-dwelling ancestors by motivating them to ensure that their offspring would be able to survive in society, but in the modern world, such fears often turn out to be both illusory and counterproductive. Let's take a look at what would happen if these parents, instead of spending large sums in a desperate quest to cure their autistic child, chose to put the same amount of money into a trust fund.

I'll assume, for the sake of discussion, that our hypothetical parents are 30 years old when they learn that their 3-year-old son is autistic. They begin contributing $50,000 per year to a trust fund for the child and continue to do so for the next 15 years. Let's suppose it earns an effective interest rate of about 5 percent, after taxes and trust administration fees.

By the time their son is 18 years old, there will be about $1,200,000 in the trust fund. At this point, the parents stop making contributions (they're 45 now, and they need to set aside money for their retirement). Perhaps their son is still living with them, or in a house or apartment nearby, and needs help with some of his daily activities. The money in the trust fund continues to earn interest.

Assuming conservatively that the parents die at age 75 and that they do not leave their son any inheritance by will, other than the family home, he's going to be in good shape financially at age 48, with more than $5,000,000 in the trust fund. Granted, that won't make him wealthy because of inflation, but it will be more than sufficient for a comfortable upper-middle-class lifestyle and whatever household help he may need. His future will be secure, even if he never works.

Now let's suppose that, after a happy and stress-free childhood, he naturally develops the skills needed to live on his own (as many autistics do) and to pursue a career. In that case, his parents will have an ample fund for his college education and for helping him to get off to a great start in his adult life.

And the value of being raised in an understanding and accepting family? Priceless.