Since Leo Kanner first described his classic “autism syndrome” in 1943, scientists, physicians and concerned parents have pondered a perplexing question: What causes autism?
If you ask Department of Health and Human Services (HSS) Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., the answer is just about everything. Since his political ascendance in 2020, the nepo baby-turned-anti-vax guru has linked autism to flu vaccines, food additives and — as of September 22 — an active ingredient in Tylenol.
To no one’s surprise, he’s probably wrong. Ann Bauer, a co-author of the meta-analysis HSS cited in its official fact sheet on the subject, warned that the Department’s conclusions were ill-founded. Critics have also pointed to a laundry list of studies that strongly refute the connection between Tylenol and autism.
The same goes for flu vaccines and food additives: according to the Mayo Clinic, “autism spectrum disorder has no single known cause.” Medical experts have spent decades trying to determine how genetic and environmental factors affect a child’s likelihood of being diagnosed with autism, but the jury is still out.
That still hasn’t stopped RFK from making false promises. This April, the Health Secretary promised to find an environmental cause of the “autism epidemic… by September.”
I’m not holding my breath. My Halloween decorations are already up.
But my objection to RFK’s fear mongering isn’t just that it’s rooted in bad science; it’s that it perpetuates eugenics under the guise of public health. By treating autism like a terminal diagnosis while turning a blind eye to measles outbreaks in Texas, Kennedy rhetorically constructs autistic children as threats to society.
This playbook isn’t new.
Hans Asperger, the German scientist who is credited with discovering his namesake syndrome, made his career as one of history’s most famous Nazi doctors. An outspoken eugenicist, Asperger spent decades running “factories of death” — hospitals where neurodiverse children were diagnosed and then systematically euthanized.
Asperger believed that autistic children undermined the Nazi Party’s values. He explained that while neurotypical children socialize and follow the rules, autistic children are too quick to question authority and, by extension, genetic anti-fascists.
To be clear, I’m not calling RFK an outright Nazi. That’s Elon Musk’s special interest.
I will say, though, that his rhetoric employs Nazi tropes to justify governmental overreach. And while Kennedy has certainly yet to ask the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to open concentration camps, his narrative actively harms autistic people and their families in two significant ways.
First, it’s blatant misinformation. There is no “autism epidemic.”
The National Institutes of Health refutes the assertion well: “No sound scientific evidence indicates that the increasing number of diagnosed cases of autism arises from anything other than purposely broadened diagnostic criteria, coupled with deliberately greater public awareness and intentionally improved case finding.”
But even if it were true that a higher proportion of children have begun exhibiting autism symptoms, it would be inaccurate to characterize the phenomenon as an epidemic. Oxford Languages defines an epidemic as “a widespread occurrence of an infectious disease in a community at a particular time.”
Autism is not a disease, and the Health Secretary’s choice to characterize it as one elucidates the second harm of his political charade: it stigmatizes diagnosis.
From a young age, autistic people struggle with being different: they think differently, they act differently, they may even speak differently. Receiving a diagnosis can help autistic people learn to embrace their neurodiversity and develop mechanisms to manage meltdowns and make ordinary social interaction easier.
Since autism is incurable, treating it as a disease may inadvertently deter neurodivergent people from seeking diagnosis. And considering that the National Institutes of Health finds that 60% of autistic people who are diagnosed as adults report experiencing suicidal ideation, it’s more important than ever that we create safe spaces for them — including at the Department of Health.
It’s time we stop treating neurodiversity as a glitch. It’s not. Neurodiverse and autistic people are every bit as worthy of love and acceptance as you and me.
Plus, they’re anti-fascists. And I think that’s pretty punk.
Cade Savoy is a political science and philosophy major from Breaux Bridge, La.
