Tuesday, September 30, 2008

"I'm Happy", Says 113 Year Old Man

I'd thought the name Tomoji Tanabe sounded familiar when it came up in the news recently.

Sure enough, it ended up referring to the 111-year-old I wrote about last year, after reading that he apparently apologized for having "been around too long"! Perhaps he was joking about this, but I am very pleased to see no such apologies in this year's birthday article:

Tanabe, recognized by the Guinness Book of World Records as the oldest living male last year, eats mostly vegetables and believes the key to longevity is not drinking alcohol.

The former civil servant lives with his son, drinks milk every day and has no major illnesses, although he now writes in his diary only once or twice a month. He used to write on a daily basis.

"His favorite food is fried shrimp, but we've heard that he's cut back on oily food," said an official at his hometown of Miyakonojo, about 900 km (560 miles) southwest of Tokyo.

"He's said he wants to live for another 10 years, that he doesn't want to die."


I love reading this sort of thing -- I hear so many people my age expressing doubts about whether life will still be worthwhile when they're 80, let alone 100+.

My take on the matter is that life being lived (presuming a person is not horribly depressed) always has something in it to look forward to (or if that's too Pollyanna for you, something that is at least potentially interesting). I think some people forget that so much of what aggregates to "happiness" in life comes from the small and even the seemingly mundane: late breakfast on a weekend, curling up on the sofa with a book and a kitten, getting the high score at Tetris, or what-have-you.

In other words, giant robots and space colonization are nifty, but they aren't the primary things that come to mind when I think about encouraging progress in human longevity these days. Rather, I think more in terms of people being able to spend more time tending their gardens, playing with grandchildren, smelling freshly baked bread, strolling through woodland.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to live another day, another year, another 10 years, etc., no matter how old you are. Kudos to Tomoji Tanabe for recognizing this, and I wish him many more happy years of life!

Sunday, September 28, 2008

The (Sometimes Silly) Sizing of Smartness

Between the ages of about 10 - 14, I was utterly obsessed with finding out what my IQ was. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I'd picked up the notion that Smartness in quantity was the most important thing a person could possibly have.

And it drove me frankly batty not knowing how much Smartness I had, because:

(a) I was (very) insecure and felt like I needed to find out I had a "high enough" number in order to permit myself any sense of self-worth, and

(b) I had an idea fixed in my mind that only "geniuses" with IQs 150 or above could have any hope of addressing any of the interesting questions and topics that dominated my thoughts as a geeky little kid: faster-than-light travel, Grand Unified Theories, etc.

I was terrified of the idea that there might be some cool thing out there that, no matter what I did or how hard I studied, I simply wouldn't be able to grasp it.

Seriously. If you'd asked me what was worse when I was twelve -- not being "smart enough" or being dead, I'd have seriously had to think about it for a moment.

(Mind you, I'd never gone around thinking that other people were somehow "less valuable" or "less deserving of existence" based on their supposed (lack of) Smartness -- that strange, stringent standard I reserved for myself alone.)

So, I both wanted to know and didn't want to know what my IQ score was. I wrestled with this in my head a lot, wondering if I'd just be better off forgetting about it and "doing my best" the way my parents advised me to -- but perhaps on account of my then-desperate need to structure the world around me and figure out how I fit in it, I just couldn't leave that unknown alone. How, after all, was I supposed to know what my best was, if I didn't know what my test scores revealed?

My notion of intelligence testing was very naive then -- basically I thought that an IQ test was some sort of "window" into a person's actual cognitive potential that was every bit as definitive as, say, a test for blood type or a stethoscope reading of a person's heart rate. I know now that it's a lot more complicated than that, and that you can't measure things about brains the way you can measure things about other aspects of physiology, but as a kid I didn't really know to draw that distinction.

Hence, I spent a lot of time trying to find any papers/reports/test scores my parents might be hiding away, hoping that I'd be able to discover through doing this some idea of the quantitative value stamp I was convinced must be on my brain somewhere (though not directly viewable by me).

I didn't actually find any of these papers until I was in my late teens. And when I did find them, I noted with some surprise that I didn't care all that much what they said. At some point between the ages of 14 and 17 I'd managed to get over my IQ obsession and move toward a different brain-related obsession (one considerably less worry-inducing): that of how brains, and in particular mine, worked at all. I got very into trying to push the limits of the brain I actually had, rather than lamenting the probable lack of the imaginary, idealized brain I'd long thought I wanted.

(I'm sure my parents would have been happier if this new fixation had somehow compelled me to get perfect grades, rather than zoning out in class trying to visualize four-dimensional shapes, but looking back I do see there was some value in that -- I did do very well in geometry!)

The bottom line here is that, in ceasing to be obsessed with quantitative test-based measurements, lo and behold, I found it far easier to actually think about things and just plain learn. No longer was I coming upon interesting problems and stressing over whether I'd be able to solve them or not based on some number on an as-yet-unseen yellowing paper -- instead I was coming to terms with what my actual strengths and weaknesses were. I did have some setbacks here (such as when, at 18, I came close to wanting to drop out of college because I thought I was "too stupid for engineering after all"), but overall I'm way more comfortable in my own brain than I used to be, and this has not led to anything like "stagnation". Quite the opposite, in fact.

I do now know what my age-4 Weschler score was, and it wasn't 150. Not even close. I took another Weschler (the adult scale) in college, and while that score ended up being quite a bit higher than my age-4 score, it was still lower than I'd originally hoped it would be, back when I started worrying about it. But it didn't matter to me in the least from an emotional standpoint by then, because I'd already managed to accomplish things (like getting an A in calculus) that I'd have considered the province of people with far higher IQ scores than I actually had.

Not to mention the fact that when I looked at my subtest scores, they were all over the map -- I had a higher than average Block Design, but lower than average Picture Arrangement, for instance. I'd not even considered the possibility prior to seeing that that my brain might very well be more optimized in some areas and less optimized in others. Realizing that fundamentally changed the way I looked at cognition, and I've never looked back since.

At this point I tend to see IQ (at least as measured on tests) as being very limited in terms of what information it actually tells you about what someone is capable of doing. E.g., I don't think IQ scores can definitively tell you when someone is going to "hit a wall", so to speak, in terms of what mathematical theorem they will absolutely get stuck on when they encounter it (or what engineering problem they might be able to solve, etc.).

So, I guess what I'm trying to say with all this is: all we humans can do in trying to make our world (the real one we all actually inhabit) less precarious for its denizens is our best. And, yes, we have to do this without even knowing what our "best" is in advance! In acknowledging that, while of course it is critical to acknowledge certain limits (as reality is defined as much by what it is not as by what it is; no amount of smartness will make square circles possible or comprehensible), it is equally critical to not place arbitrary, prejudice-saturated, assumption-heavy limits on the capacities of ordinary people to both have a say in decisions that affect them/us and participate in productive projects.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

On Flavors of Privilege

When I was in college, I had a roommate who initially seemed incredibly standoffish. I'm not always great at picking up on that sort of thing, and for a few weeks I sort of shrugged it off and figured she was just "quiet" or "shy".

After all, I'd been accused plenty of times of being unfriendly myself, and I wasn't about to do that to someone else! I felt proud of myself for "not taking it personally".

Somehow, though I eventually figured out that her demeanor did have something to do with me. I can't even remember how -- possibly seeing how different she was around people who weren't me -- but in any case, I confronted her one day.

Given my history of social ostracism and exclusion, I initially thought I was going to hear something about how I was weird, or annoying, or even "scary". I braced myself for "the usual".

I didn't get "the usual". Instead, I got an admission that I made her nervous because I was white.

This completely shocked me. I sputtered something like, "But I'm not racist! Why would you even think that?"

I don't remember what my roommate said in response, or how that conversation eventually resolved -- but nevertheless, things were much better afterward. We actually ended up getting along quite well for the rest of the time we shared a room. Still, though, it wasn't until several years after graduating that I was able to see the illusory nature of my moral high horse.

For years, I'd seen the positive resolution of our little discussion on race as being a concession on her part that she'd been wrong in her initial uneasiness about sharing a room with a white girl. However, having since learned a lot more about the utterly horrific levels of racism, stereotyping, and general disrespect women of color (in this case, Latina) still experience in our "post-Enlightenment" society, I can now see why my roommate reacted to me the way she did in the beginning.

I can also see how my initial (and held-for-years) perception of our resolution and subsequent peaceful coexistence was, in fact, a consequence of my own unexamined privilege and ignorance.

My mistake had been in presuming that my roommate and I were actually on a level playing field to begin with as far as our backgrounds went -- meaning that (in my mind, at the time) her reaction had been "paranoid" until she'd gotten a clue, whereas mine had been "reasoned".

If that wasn't a privileged assumption on my part, I don't know what is.

My roommate ended up explaining a bit about social activism to me that year -- I didn't quite understand all of it, and at the time I was still living in a "the world is a pure meritocracy so long as you don't play the victim" mindset -- but thinking back, I am seeing how that experience revealed a pretty gaping flaw in my own thinking even if I didn't see it at the time.

I was so used to presuming that prejudice was "someone else's problem" (in the sense that I didn't need to do anything about it aside from proclaim it "wrong" where I saw it, unless of course it was directed at me, in which case I would actively fight it) that I could not see how my own attitudes could help perpetuate prejudice. I thought a person had to actually be prejudiced against one or more ethnic/cultural groups to be part of the prejudice problem, which of course left me off the hook.

Or so I thought.

It has only been through looking at how different people enjoy different levels of valuation and privilege that I've been able to realize that no, I am not off the hook. Even as I work, in whatever way I can, to help bolster the idea that being autistic (or otherwise disabled/atypical/different) should not disqualify a person from membership in the human community (with all the respect and ethical consideration that entails), and even as I acknowledge the unexamined, harmful assumptions regarding brains like mine and people like me, I must not lose sight of contexts where I am the one who needs to check my attitude.

Sure, I might get looked askance at by some due to my "odd" body language or fleeting eye contact or idiosyncratic, inconsistent use of language -- but in general, I don't have people making cracks within (or outside) earshot about how I and my family are probably "illegals" who ought to be deported.

In general, if I walk into a store, the clerks aren't looking at my skin color and raising their vigilance levels due to a perception that people who look like me tend to be thieves.

I don't constantly hear speculations about how people of my ancestral background are probably less intelligent, more aggressive, or less honest -- and that somehow "statistics show this, and anyone who doesn't believe it is just being PC".

I might hear other speculations, all of them equally misguided, but that doesn't make the ones that get applied to others and not me "not my problem"!

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Hourglass III Blog Carnival Posted

September is here, bringing along with it shorter days, sweaters, and the third Hourglass Blog Carnival, hosted this month by Alvaro at SharpBrains.

The Hourglass series is a monthly blog carnival initiated by postdoctoral life-science researcher Chris Patil, who runs the Ouroboros - Research in the Biology of Aging blog.

Hourglass blog carnival entries can take many forms, with the criteria being that they must have something to do with the biology of aging / longevity.

So far all the submissions have been quite interesting, and this month's lineup is no exception. There you will find articles on brain aging, yeast aging, exercise and aging, nutrition and aging, and more.

Go check it out if you are at all interested in the fascinating field of aging biology!

And as I will be hosting Hourglass IV here at Existence is Wonderful on October 14, please be thinking about whether or not you might be interested in submitting something. More details to follow, and reminders will most definitely be posted.

Many thanks again to Alvaro for hosting Hourglass III!

Monday, September 08, 2008

Of Monotremes and Mole-Rats: Metabolism, Membranes, and More

1 - Introduction

Perhaps this says more about human psychology than about the animals we tend to find "unusual", but nature's capacity to surprise us nevertheless remains unmatched by even our most strident efforts to comprehend the vast diversity of animal forms we share the planet with.

This is no more evident than in the case of the monotremes -- the first platypus specimen, brought from Australia to the Department of Natural History at the British Museum in 17991, was actually suspected to be a hoax!

Monotremes (that is, platypi and echidnae) not only look unusual to humans accustomed to seeing mainly domestic dogs, cats, and barnyard animals, but have unusual and fascinating physiologies. They are classified as mammals due to being warm-blooded, having a four-chambered heart, etc., but they share some attributes (such as egg-laying) with birds and reptiles. In some respects they resemble remote ancestors of other modern mammals, whereas in other respects (such as their ability to sense the electrical fields of prospective prey) they are highly specialized in directions that no other known mammals have even approached.

From the order Rodentia, mice and rats are probably the most common mammal models for studying aging and testing environmental/dietary/medical influences on maximum lifespan. The Methuselah Mouse Prize -- a contest intended to inspire research projects into mammal longevity through awarding of prizes to researchers whose mice live the longest -- is predicated at least in part on the notion that if we can find ways to keep mice healthier longer as they age, some of those methods might eventually translate to human medicine.

Of course there is no guarantee that will be the case, as mice and humans do differ in some significant ways -- nevertheless, mouse models have their advantages in longevity research, as they are inexpensive, prolific, and (compared to humans) short-lived. However, the mouse is not representative of all rodents in the fact of its 1 - 3 year lifespan, and there is one rodent in particular that caught my interest in looking for examples of unusually long-lived animals: the naked mole-rat.

I'd never even heard of naked mole-rats until about five years ago, when I happened to glance at a nature show playing in a doctor's waiting room (of all places). On the screen appeared these tiny, pink, wrinkly, buck-toothed things burrowing through dark tunnels, with the voice-over noting how they were actually capable of chewing through concrete. That definitely made an impression, however, I had no idea at the time that I'd eventually find myself poring over mole-rat research in the process of studying one of my major interests -- longevity.

As of 2008, though, neither of these animals are new to the longevity spotlight. Articles in USA Today4, Science Daily6, and The Longevity Meme (which has made frequent mention of both naked mole-rat longevity and echidna longevity) have been chronicling these creatures since at least 2006. However, with rapid news story turnover these days, and given just how cool and interesting the echidna and naked mole-rat are, I figured it was well worth revisiting the available literature on these creatures and hopefully introducing them to a few more people in writing about them here.

2 - Implications

"Aging", as a generic term, simply means "getting older" or "existing across an ever-increasing span of time". However, when most people think about aging in the context of human health, they are usually referring to the process by which our bodies change physically as they get older. Gerontological research has revealed a fair bit about how humans and various other animals age physically, however, as of yet there are no reliable, known means to mitigate the parts of aging that lead to unpleasant, deadly health problems (heart disease, increased susceptibility to cancer, etc.) as people enter their eighth and ninth decades.

Nevertheless, we humans (like the naked mole-rat) already also live longer than our size would predict -- considerably longer than any other land mammal roughly our size.2 It seems well worth looking at mammals who share this feature with us, as such study might offer clues regarding the various different routes via which exceptional longevity in a species can occur. The more we know about how and why some animals live longer than conventional wisdom would have us believe they would, the more avenues of potentially productive research come into play.

This is where the implications of what we might be able to learn from monotremes (specifically the echidna Tachyglossus aculeatus3) and mole-rats lie. The more we find out about how mammals can age, the better.

3 - Findings

So, what is known so far about longevity in mole-rats and echidnae? Well, perhaps not as much as is known about mice, but certainly a fair amount -- and the pool of knowledge is growing all the time.

One thing to note is that longevity in mammals more or less seems to decrease as body size decreases, and as metabolic rate tends to increase (the typical mouse's heart rate is between 400 and 800 bpm5). Hence, while some much larger rodents (e.g., beavers) can also live upwards of 20 years, naked mole-rats are more interesting from a longevity standpoint because of how longevity and body scale usually correlate in mammals. It is highly unusual for an 8 - 10 cm long creature to live anything near 20+ years, and yet, it is not uncommon for wild naked mole-rats (which are native to East Africa) to live up to 20 years. One naked mole-rat in captivity managed to reach 28 years!4.

While most monotremes do maintain a somewhat constant temperature within different environments, their normative temperature tends to be around 90 degrees Farenheit, in contrast with the 98+ degree averages of humans and many other mammals. Additionally, at least one known monotreme (the short-beaked echidna) can alter its temperature regulation toward a more mammalian norm in warmer, more active conditions, and toward a more "reptilian" adjustment to the ambient environment in cooler, less active times.7 The short-beaked echidna (Tachyglossus aculeatus) is of particular interest here because of its known capacity to live up to 50 years, which is up to 3.7 times longer than its size would predict.3

One theory regarding exceptional longevity in mammals, as detailed in the paper Life, death and membrane bilayers9 is the "membrane pacemaker" theory of metabolism:

...which proposes that the relative balance between monounsaturated and long-chain polyunsaturated acyl chains in membrane bilayers is a fundamental determinant of metabolic rate of a species.


Essentially, what this means is that some findings suggest a relationship between metabolic rate and the health over time of the various fatty-acid membrane structures that comprise animal physiology. Animals are, in a sense, made possible by membranes -- life is dependent upon being able to direct functional pathways along specific routes, and to contain chemical materials where they are needed (that is, where they can perform their life-sustaining activities). Longer-lived species, according to the membrane pacemaker theory, are likely to have more peroxidation-resistant membrane lipids than shorter-lived species.10 This is a significant idea because it is well known that oxidation and metabolic activity over time go hand in hand, and that oxidation can definitely cause plenty of damage to cells.

Per the membrane pacemaker theory, one would expect that naked mole-rats and short-beaked echidnas might display membrane composition throughout life in accordance with their impressive longevity.

Lo and behold, this does seem to be the case: gas-liquid chromotography has demonstrated not only that naked mole-rat membrane structure actually remains largely unchanged with age, but that the chemical composition of mole-rat membranes is more lipid-peroxidation-resistant than that found in mice.11 Similarly, analysis of phospholipids from the short-beaked echidna indicated a higher monounsaturate/lower polyunsaturate membrane concentration than one would guess from merely looking at their body size.3

These studies demonstrate that in at least some species, membrane chemistry is more significant than body size in predicting lifespan. It is also intriguing to note that in animals such as the ones discussed here, despite their generally lower-than-human body temperature and ability to switch off and/or "pulse" metabolism, they do expend decent amounts of energy while alive. Oxidative reactions can and do occur in the mole-rat, for instance -- they just don't seem to cause much in the way of harm.

Interestingly, one of the most well-known effective animal longevity interventions -- calorie restriction -- may actually tie into the membrane pacemaker theory. Calorie restriction can alter the peroxidation susceptibility of membranes within the body via changing their chemical composition, which in turn affects membrane-related activity and downregulates metabolism accordingly. The idea that membrane lipid compositions within the body could serve as a primary metabolic regulator is a fascinating one indeed, as if proven out thoroughly, it seems possible it could lead to better and more precisely targeted medicine.

There are two primary gerontological schools of thought when one looks at the landscape of medical longevity research -- one which seeks to determine the mechanisms through which aging damage occurs (with the idea that these mechanisms themselves could potentially be altered so as to damage the organism less), and another which is more interested in classifying the damage itself and studying ways to repair it. Sometimes these schools of thought seem to be at odds, however personally I see them as having at least some practical overlap.

Metabolism is so complex, and so many essential systems depend on it, that the notion of modifying it significantly while maintaining the health and safety of the organism poses extreme challenges. Nevertheless, we can still work on finding ways to regulate metabolism and affect how it operates. Calorie restriction demonstrates the efficacy of this approach, and while even highly effective CR-mimetic drugs would not provide as drastic gains in healthspan as we'd all probably like to see, there is certainly logic in combining a damage-preventative approach with a damage-cleanup approach.

In any case, I look forward to learning more of what such creatures as mole-rats and echidnas may be able to teach us about themselves, about aging, and about the curious interplay between metabolism, chemistry, activity, and all the other processes that make life possible.



References and Notes:

1 - Museum of Hoaxes - Duck-Billed Platypus
2 - The only mammals that live longer than we do are aquatic (certain species of whale), though it is interesting to note that elephants might outlive us if only they had access to a better dental plan!
3 - The exceptional longevity of an egg-laying mammal, the short-beaked echidna (Tachyglossus aculeatus) is associated with peroxidation-resistant membrane composition.
4 - USA Today - Naked mole-rat's longevity secret cloaked in mystery
5 - The Mouse ECG and Heart Rate Variability: Methodological Considerations
6 - Ugly Duckling Mole Rats Might Hold Key To Longevity
7 - Wikipedia entry on Echidna
8 - Wikipedia entry on Naked Mole-Rat.
9 - Life, death and membrane bilayers, by A. J. Hulbert, Metabolic Research Centre and Department of Biological Science, University of Wollongong
10 - Fowl play and the price of petrel: long-living Procellariiformes have peroxidation-resistant membrane composition compared with short-living Galliformes.
11 - Oxidation-Resistant Membrane Phospholipids Can Explain Longevity Differences Among the Longest-Living Rodents and Similarly-Sized Mice

Friday, September 05, 2008

Conceptualizing Autism

INTRODUCTION

This piece of writing is an attempt to explain my current conceptualization of autism.

I come at this subject both as someone very interested in neuroscience/cognition and as an autistic self-advocate.

Since being diagnosed myself, and entering public discussion (initially just to find out if there really were people who shared certain experiences with me), I've often found myself in the midst of discussions where the question "what IS autism anyway?" goes round and round and back and forth but never seems to be satisfactorily resolved.

Lots of theories and abstractions and oversimplifications get thrown about, and it can be quite a confounding thing indeed to even determine if the people involved are even talking about the same thing.

And yet, those of us who live every day of our lives as atypically-brained persons somehow manage to concretely exist; we are in no way dependent on the speculations of others to actually see and feel and experience reality the way we do.

This disconnect -- that gulf between the very real experience of existing "autistically" in the world, and the various attempts to define autism from the outside -- has long confounded me, and I would guess many others as well.

This writing has been a long time coming -- over the past few years I've read many papers and studies, communicated with other autistic adults (and a few children and adolescents), and just generally tried to hash through all the weird linguistic and cultural matter surrounding neuro-atypicality in its various manifestations.

Basically what I want this article to be -- and what I hope it at least marginally succeeds at being -- is something I can point people to when they want to know what I actually think autism is.

The ultra-short version is that I think autism is best understood as a cognitive style, based on biological underpinnings pertaining to brain development, connectivity, and structure. Like any human attribute fitting these terms, autistic brain wiring can lead to both strengths and weaknesses, ability and disability, good experiences and bad ones.

If you want to know why I think this to be the case, you'll need to read the long version -- that is, the rest of this article.

I.

A while back, Canadian cognitive science researcher and autistic adult Michelle Dawson wrote one of the clearest descriptions of autism I have ever read, which begins with the following:

Autism is a neurological difference classified as a developmental disability. Autistic people have atypical behaviours in three areas: social interaction, communication, and restricted interests or repetitive behaviours. Autistics are different at the most basic level available: how we experience the world, and how we learn from it. Autism presents with measurable differences in perception, attention, memory, intelligence, etc. The autistic order and progress of development is different from the typical version as is autistic brain structure, allocation, and function.


From the other side of the academic (and geographic!) pond, Larry Arnold (autistic adult and long-time disability advocate in the UK) offers another decent conceptualization of autism:

What autism is to me is a set of differences, probably neuro biological that govern the way we interpret the social, perceptual and sensory world. We are born with a different programme.


I won't quote either Ms. Dawson or Mr. Arnold out of context (much)* further than that -- I would definitely suggest reading the posts I've linked above, though. I know that these two individuals in particular have disagreed on numerous occasions and with regard to various subjects, and hopefully I've not offended either of them by quoting them in such close proximity, but I wanted to open this attempt to explain how I currently conceptualize autism by acknowledging that this is not brand-new territory by any means. I did not invent the conceptualization I am presenting here -- all I've done in this context is organize what I've learned over the past 2 years or so into something I hope is at least somewhat coherent.

I feel it is important to do this because there are so many people who view autism primarily as:

(1) A set of static behaviors a person must exhibit constantly in order to be considered autistic
(2) The permanent, intractable inability to do certain things (in the absence of either intensive behavioral therapy or some as-yet-nonexistent biological treatment)

Both of those views are, I believe, inaccurate (as in, they don't hold up to anything resembling good scientific and statistical scrutiny), and potentially harmful to autistic people.

II.

Viewing autism as a narrowly-defined "set of behaviors" can lead to mistaking stress or even physical health problems as "the autism" -- meaning that the autistic person may not end up getting needed medical treatment, or may be treated inappropriately. Additionally, woe unto the autistic person who perhaps does not always look "stereotypically autistic" -- in this situation, the danger is that the person's concerns and difficulties may be ignored, disregarded, attributed to laziness or "character flaws". While a person's tendencies in action, demeanor, and language use/development can certainly indicate aspects of their neural wiring, the notion of trying to define autism purely in terms of outward behaviors misses the fact that autistic people are neither frozen in time nor constrained into one particular presentation regardless of environment.

Similarly, viewing autism as a permanent lack of certain skills (such as, say, the ability to use language in any capacity, or to relate/respond to other people) can lead to everything from educational neglect of autistics ("He'll never learn this anyway so why should we bother attempting to teach him?") to the paradoxical removal or denial of necessary supports when an autistic person does learn a particular skill ("You can express yourself so well through typing now, you can't possibly really need help with daily living tasks like a real autistic person would.").

Needless to say, I see those formulations as leading to nothing good. Nevertheless, I am very sensitive to the fact that people who use those formulations do so out of fear -- fear, perhaps, for the future of an autistic person they know who seems to be struggling tremendously with the most basic communication and self-care activities. Such people tend to have a very "zero sum" view of the world, and seem to genuinely believe that talking about autistic strengths, or pointing out that autistics can indeed learn, grow, and develop, or even suggesting that the world needs to be more tolerant of different kinds of people will somehow hurt their loved one's (or their own, as some autistics think this way) chances of obtaining truly useful support.

And...while I don't expect to change the minds of such persons by writing this, I figure this way I can at least have something to point people to when it becomes necessary for me to explain how I conceptualize autism, and why I conceptualize it that way.

III.

The graphic below (click to view a larger version) is an attempt to show clearly how the concept of "autism" operates on multiple levels, which is part of what I think leads to the tremendous amount of confusion and controversy surrounding it:



People with the kinds of cognitive tendencies that (today) are considered indicative of autism have existed probably as long as humans have been around. However, as far as I can tell, the first modern application of the word "autistic" to describe a particular cognitive minority was in a set of papers published individually by a Dr. Leo Kanner, in 1943 (which you can actually read online here) and a Dr. Hans Asperger in 1944 (and there is some confusion as to who actually identified the "syndrome" first of these two doctors).

Kanner and Asperger never actually met, however, it is fairly clear from examining their work that they were more than likely studying the same population -- a subset of individuals who demonstrated marked atypicalities in learning style, development, and behavioral tendencies. However, at that time nobody really had any idea why these tendencies appeared in some people -- which led to a rash of psychoanalytic and even pseudoscientific theories (such as the infamous "refrigerator mother" hypothesis, which blamed autistic development on early maternal neglect).

Even now, it is not precisely known exactly how autistic brains differ from nonautistic brains. However, there are some preliminary studies indicating that certain cognitive style elements tend to correspond with certain structural neural differences. The blue column on the left side of the diagram summarizes some of the "how, why, and what" of autistic brains from the physical standpoint.

My guess is that there are probably multiple underlying structural variations that can produce "autistic phenotypes", and it will be interesting to see how this pans out, but at any rate, one important aspect of how I presently conceptualize autism is the fact that some structural differences do seem to really exist. And if the difference does indeed go "all the way down" to the brain, as it appears to, then it makes very little sense to (as some seem to) view autism as some kind of disruptive "module" overlaid upon a typical brain.

This is significant both in the cognitive science and the ethics realm, as it indicates (a) that experiments presuming autistic brains to be "broken versions of normal brains" are likely useless, and (b) that the best ways to help autistic people learn and develop functional skills are those which acknowledge an underlying and pervasive difference as opposed to those which presume that autism can be "removed" or "trained out" by simply eliminating surface behaviors.

IV.

The yellow column in the middle of the diagram summarizes some aspects of how autism manifests from the standpoint of the autistic person (and, perhaps, the well-informed cognitive scientist, not that those are necessarily mutually exclusive!). Autistic brain differences, quite logically, seem to lead to differences in how a person thinks, perceives, and processes information (both from the outside environment and from the internal environment of the person's brain/body).

While one cannot conclude that autistic people all think the exact same way, or have the same personalities, or have the same exact externally-manifesting skills (you might want to read up on outgroup homogeneity bias if this sounds strange), there do seem to be certain trends in autistic perception and cognition.

Much research has been done, for instance, in the realm of assessing visual-spatial processing in autistics -- while of course accounting for the fact that some autistics are blind, and that some have other disabilities that can affect what precise external skills actually develop to the point of being testable, it does seem clear that many autistics have peak abilities in certain visual/spatial tasks.

Areas like figure-ground discrimination, the Wechsler block design subtest, and tasks involving locally-oriented processing tend to be strong in autistic persons -- to the point where some have suggested that good performance in these areas might be a "diagnostic" factor in and of itself!

Mind you, none of this is meant to imply that I (or the researchers engaging in the experiments demonstrating visual-spatial trends in autistic persons) believe that autistic people cannot be disabled. Certainly, "uneven" development (which may include significant delays alongside "advanced" skill acquisition in some individuals), communication difficulties, and consequent social, educational, and occupational issues are very real. However, the existence of real disabilities and difficulties need not imply that the "whole person" is somehow diminished by the fact of being autistic, or that one cannot have attributes which exist as both strength and weakness depending upon the context.

Then there is the matter of what autistic people ourselves can understand and reveal about how we think, perceive, and experience the world. While I think there is good reason for caution here (as autistic people should not be made to feel as if we are obligated to dissect our lives and minds on demand -- we are people, not exotic exhibits, after all), and while most of us will not write detailed autobiographies, it also strikes me as vitally important for autistic people to have a place in defining who and what we are.

Additionally, interactions between autistic people (in which communication about perception and internal processes takes place -- and this does not always occur through words, but also through pictures, actions, and objects, to name a few possibilities) can help us understand how we operate, which in turn can help us figure out new ways to improve our daily lives and functionality. There are many things I can describe now (that I couldn't before) about how I think and perceive due to reading the writings of other autistic persons. Those writings helped provide a workable vocabulary for certain very significant phenomena that I frankly didn't even realize could be described or expressed before.

This is somewhat difficult to describe, but in some ways I see the community of autistic people who now write to each other (and interact with one another in other ways) functioning as a kind of "symbiotic feedback-insight generator".

While we all deal to some extent with the limitations of the vocabularies provided to us by our culture (e.g., many of us are probably used to describing ourselves in terms like, "crazy", "weird", "smart and stupid at the same time", or even in terms applied to us in the context of past mental misdiagnosis), it also seems that sometimes we manage to come up with novel and useful ways of describing or referencing something about how we operate. Other autistic people might then read what we've written in this regard, recognize it as familiar, and thereafter become more able to describe more accurately how they think/perceive/operate -- in other words, a positive feedback mechanism emerges.

E.g., when I was about twenty years old I described a phenomenon in which objects around me seemed "broken up into pixels, atoms, and molecules", during a period of extreme stress. I also noted that sometimes it seemed like the objects around me did not specifically stand out as having human-defined significance -- that is, when I looked around I saw shapes and colors but I had to think extra hard to remember that certain arrangements of shapes and colors meant "toothbrush" or "bicycle", etc. At the time I had just seen the film The Matrix, so I made an analogy to when the characters became able to see the environment around them as "source code" -- somehow something about that scene felt eerily familiar.

I was quite thoroughly shocked a few years later to read things written by other autistic persons regarding "fragmentation" of vision, or "having to work hard to recognize objects". I was then further intrigued to learn of papers describing experiments which indicated autistics tended to perceive "low level data" more directly than nonautistic people.

The sense of being able to perceive that data, and of having it become more difficult to maintain abstractions and object boundaries when stressed, has always been present for me -- I just never knew it was in any way unusual, or possibly correlated with this thing called "autism", until a few years ago. And while it may be very difficult (and perhaps not always desirable) to "quantify" individual perceptual experiences of this nature and correlate them with cognitive research findings, it is definitely things like this which compel me to conceptualize the "cognitive style" element of autism as highly significant.

V.

The orange column on the right of the diagram summarizes what most people probably think of as "autism" -- that is, the externally-visible things that generally get people suspected of being, or identified as being, autistic in the first place.

This is where we see such things as diagnostic checklists, observations about a person's developmental milestones (and when/if they meet certain expected ones), outward actions, language use, body language, tone of voice, social/educational/occupational success (or lack thereof) in the absence of modifying factors, etc.

What is interesting, and perhaps a bit unnerving, is that this category is at once the one people tend to put the most stock in (in terms of identifying autistics, in terms of determining what educational supports we might need, etc.) and the one most subject to cultural biases, personal biases, misinformation, and the ever-changing social lens through which different kinds of people are generally viewed.

It is very common, for instance, to come across people shocked to find that a diagnosed autistic person can speak (or write, for that matter) -- despite the fact that not even the clinicalized DSM-IV criteria for Autistic Disorder necessitates a language delay, let alone a total lifelong lack of language. And writing is not even mentioned at all. See Criterion B below, emphasis mine:


B. qualitative impairments in communication as manifested by at least one of the following:

1. delay in, or total lack of, the development of spoken language (not accompanied by an attempt to compensate through alternative modes of communication such as gesture or mime)

2. in individuals with adequate speech, marked impairment in the ability to initiate or sustain a conversation with others

3. stereotyped and repetitive use of language or idiosyncratic language

4. lack of varied, spontaneous make-believe play or social imitative play appropriate to developmental level


And lest anyone think that this DSM-IV represents some "watered down, wishy-washy version of autism that does not resemble at all the original 'severe' version described by Kanner", I offer the following from his original paper (again, emphasis mine):

"...most of these children were at one time or another looked upon as feebleminded", despite having "good cognitive potentialities" [characterized by, among other things], "...[t]he astounding vocabulary of the speaking children, the excellent memory for events of several years before, the phenomenal rote memory for poems and names, and the precise recollection of complex patterns and sequences."


This is not to say that all autistic individuals will speak/write, let alone have "astounding vocabularies". Nor is it to say that autistic people (or any other people, for that matter) are only valuable as persons if they can speak, or that nonspeaking individuals do not face different and often greater challenges than individuals with speech.

Rather, all I am trying to point out here is that there is simply no basis for claiming that autistics are "officially" categorically unable of speech or communication, regardless of individual variation in those abilities. I also do not believe that any human who is conscious does not communicate in some way.

Having communication difficulties does not mean that it is impossible for someone to ever communicate, or that autistics who use language (as adults or as children) in any capacity are somehow profoundly categorically different from those who do not.

This is important because too many people, I think, draw damaging and unnecessary distinctions between (for instance) speaking and nonspeaking autistics, mostly in the context of suggesting that if someone can type, sign, or speak, they have nothing to add to the wider discussion of how to best help autistic people live less precarious, happier lives. And this does not just apply to speech either -- it also applies to things like mannerisms, reactions to particular situations, and the presence/absence/delay in developing of particular skills.

All of these things can vary widely between individual autistic people, despite there being underlying structural and cognitive similarities -- we are still, after all, different individuals every bit as much as nonautistic people are.

Furthermore, even such things as whether or not we are ever diagnosed, or at what age, can depend greatly on circumstances. *To quote Larry Arnold again:

[Autistic] differences as they develop involve social factors it is inevitable that at different times in different circumstances and in different cultures, that those differences are going to be either overlooked, alternatively explained or accepted in different ways, according to what is the norm, not just in terms of social interaction, but in terms of the interpretation of illness disability and difference too...Autism is bound to be complicated by other factors that will [also] affect the developmental trajectory.


What I take from all this is that while there is no escaping the "observational" aspect of autism (as frankly most of us do come across as "different" throughout large chunks of our lives even if we can sometimes "pass", and not explaining that stuff in terms of autism does not magically make it go away!) the layer where all of us on the spectrum do, albeit fuzzily, converge is not to be found in stereotypes, superficial observations, unrealistic expectations of "developmental stasis", or even in the ever-shifting sets of "official criteria" being employed in different countries.

VI.

If I accomplish anything with this, I hope it is that I manage to get people who read it to at least consider looking more deeply rather than assuming that autism means something like "lack of empathy", "an extreme male brain", "maladaptive behavior" or even "primarily a social problem". It is my impression that autism is none of these things, but that it is rather a neurological configuration that tends to lead to particular cognitive tendencies.

How these tendencies actually manifest vary from person to person, and throughout any individual person's life, and generally autistic people do have difficulties functioning in a culture that was not designed for people like us. But this does not mean that we are categorically unhappy, ineducable, or any other negative.

Autistic people are real, have always been real, even when we weren't called "autistic", and we would continue to perceive, think, memorize, and generally exist in the world the way we do if the "labels" suddenly changed or disappeared. Hence, in my mind a conceptualization of autism (such as I have attempted here) is necessary not so much in its semantics but in the convergence of its content with reality.

The reality of human existence is that brains and perceptual styles do not come in only one flavor, and right now it is also true that some flavors (again, regardless of what they happen to be called) are still widely misunderstood. These misunderstandings affect not only what gets written in textbooks, but people's actual lives. Because of this, efforts must continue not only to understand the principles by which various minds operate, but to make sure the common conceptualization of "valid person" does not limit itself only to majority flavors.



References:

Note: My listing of an article/paper by a particular person (or persons) simply indicates that that article/paper seems to demonstrate something useful and true about how autistic brains work. Inclusion of an article/paper does not in any way imply that I agree with everything the author has ever said, or that I agree with the value judgments made about autistic brain functioning in some of these references -- in my opinion, cognitive science should be about determining how brains do what they do, not about presupposing that autistic brains are "unhealthy".

Physical Characteristics of Autistic Brains

1. Autism and the Brain (from autism.about.com)
2. Autism and Minicolumns, by Ian Parker
3. Minicolumns, Genius, and Autism, by Ian Parker
4. Gray and white matter imbalance – Typical structural abnormality underlying classic autism?, by Leonardo Bonilhaa, Fernando Cendesc, Chris Rorden, Mark Eckert, Paulo Dalgalarrondo, Li Min Li and Carlos E. Steiner
5. Autism and Abnormal Development of Brain Connectivity, by Matthew K. Belmonte, Greg Allen, Andrea Beckel-Mitchener, Lisa M. Boulanger, Ruth A. Carper, and Sara J. Webb
6. Dissociations of cerebral cortex, subcortical and cerebral white matter volumes in autistic boys, by Herbert M. R.; Ziegler D. A.; Deutsch C. K.; O'Brien L. M.; Lange N.; Bakardjiev A.; Hodgson J.; Adrien K. T.; Steele S.; Makris N.; Kennedy D.; Harris G. J.; Caviness V. S.

Cognitive/Perceptual Processing in Autistic Brains

1. Enhanced and diminished visuo-spatial information processing in autism depends on stimulus complexity, by Armando Bertone, Laurent Mottron, Patricia Jelenic and Jocelyn Faubert
2. Enhanced discrimination in autism, by Oapos; Riordan, M.A.; Passetti, F.
3. Seeing it differently: visual processing in autism, by Marlene Behrmanna, Cibu Thomasa and Kate Humphrey
4. Visual perception, from Laboratory for Research into Autism
5. Brains of Those With Autism May Be Alphabetically Different, by Joan Arehart-Treichel
6. Cognitive mechanisms, specificity and neural underpinnings of visuospatial peaks in autism., by Caron MJ, Mottron L, Berthiaume C, Dawson M




EDITS:
- Introduction added 15 November, 2008


Wednesday, September 03, 2008

Fallacious Arguments (A List)

I was trying to describe a particular sort of obnoxious argument I see online now and then today, and someone responded with the following link:

A List of Fallacious Arguments

I've seen lists like this before (and of course there's Wikipedia's reasonably comprehensive List of Cognitive Biases), but this list is probably one of the better ones I've seen, if only because it seems to have captured so many of the really awful arguments that people on the Internet especially seem to love using.

Here are some samples (listing these particular ones because, well, they annoy me a whole lot, and they seem oddly popular when people are arguing about anything autism-related):


Moving The Goalposts (Raising The Bar, Argument By Demanding Impossible Perfection):

if your opponent successfully addresses some point, then say he must also address some further point. If you can make these points more and more difficult (or diverse) then eventually your opponent must fail. If nothing else, you will eventually find a subject that your opponent isn't up on.

This is related to Argument By Question. Asking questions is easy: it's answering them that's hard.

It is also possible to lower the bar, reducing the burden on an argument. For example, a person who takes Vitamin C might claim that it prevents colds. When they do get a cold, then they move the goalposts, by saying that the cold would have been much worse if not for the Vitamin C.

Argument By Repetition (Argument Ad Nauseam):

If you say something often enough, some people will begin to believe it. There are some net.kooks who keeping reposting the same articles to Usenet, presumably in hopes it will have that effect.

Argument By Question:

Asking your opponent a question which does not have a snappy answer. (Or anyway, no snappy answer that the audience has the background to understand.) Your opponent has a choice: he can look weak or he can look long-winded. For example, "How can scientists expect us to believe that anything as complex as a single living cell could have arisen as a result of random natural processes?"

Actually, pretty well any question has this effect to some extent. It usually takes longer to answer a question than ask it.

Variants are the rhetorical question, and the loaded question, such as "Have you stopped beating your wife?"


Mostly I'm posting this here so I don't forget about the link -- I tend to find it easier to look up stuff on my own blog than, say, use bookmarks. But I figured some fellow readers who get really irritated when people are wrong on the Internet might appreciate it as well. =]

Monday, September 01, 2008

What Each Of Us Notices - Alviso Edition

Alviso, California is now a tiny residential neighborhood at the edge of a salt marsh, but its present "sleepy" image is a far cry from its colorful past. For years, Alviso served as the primary shipping port between the San Jose area and San Francisco. The area fairly bustled with activity during the late 19th century, as steamboats chugged back and forth across the bay.

The area's prominence as a port diminished once the San Francisco-San Jose railroad was completed, however, it remained a busy center of industry (particularly canning) and was fairly notorious in the 1920s and 30s for being a "haven of vice", with its dance halls and casinos.

Following the 1968 annexing of Alviso by San Jose, booming Bay Area industrial opportunism and population growth led to some degree of both environmental upset (i.e., treated freshwater flowing into the salt marshlands) and social tension between the City of San Jose and Alviso. Residents, historical preservationists, and environmentalists have since faced the task of preserving the town's unique character while keeping it safe and habitable for both humans and native wildlife -- and this task has not always been an easy or unchallenged one.

Nowadays, the headquarters for on-demand-television pioneer TiVo and a number of boxy new $700K homes perch uneasily at the edges of town, in somewhat jarring contrast with the older family residences nestled along the short streets of Alviso proper. Only one of the area's original Victorian mansions remains (the Tilden-Laine house, pictured below), but nevertheless, the neighborhood has managed to retain something that, I'm told, is reminiscent of "old California".



Prior to just a few weeks ago, I'd not known any of that about Alviso. There was nothing obvious about it that compelled me to even bother finding out more about the town, let alone actually go there. What did eventually provide that impetus was finding out that Alviso contains a number of historical landmarks (such as the Henry Wade Warehouse), and that it might therefore be a great place to wander around with a camera. So, about 3 weeks ago a photographer friend drove up for the day and we trekked out to have a look, cameras in hand.

The first thing that surprised me was just how close Alviso was. Bus drivers on some of the lines I used to ride referred to it as "a dump" (not a term that made me want to go there), and talked about it as if it were off in the middle of nowhere. Somehow it always sounded remote -- and yet, I've apparently lived within a mere few miles of it for years.

The second thing that surprised me was how quiet it was. My friend and I pulled up into a small, gravelly parking lot near the marsh, and once he turned off the engine, I was struck almost immediately by the lack of ambient suburban hum to which I've become accustomed. Alviso is close enough to the San Jose airport such that one definitely hears the rumbling whoosh of a plane tracking overhead now and then, but in the intervals between flyovers, one doesn't hear much aside from wind in tall marshgrass and the crunch of one's own footsteps.

Certainly some of this serenity was probably due to it being midday on a Friday, as opposed to an evening or weekend (when I'd expect to hear more in the way of human bustle), but it was still quiet to an unusual degree for any area in this general vicinity.

The third thing that surprised me was Alviso's beauty. I've always liked looking at old buildings, and had been prepared (and excited) for the opportunity to see a few of those, but I did not anticipate the rest of what I found by any means. Alviso has old buildings, yes (including several lovely, crumbling, floodwashed, partly-burned, splintery ones), but as I walked around the area, I found myself noticing far more than just old buildings.

Alviso has many layers and many levels, most of which aren't obvious at first. Alviso's beauty is one of juxtaposition and overlap: an ornate Victorian house alongside a crumbling broken-down building, a carefully-tended circlet of roses in between the two structures, a hollowed-out brick-and-concrete warehouse with lush grass growing all over its interior floorspace, and the sharp silhouettes of the birds which have appropriated some of the abandoned structures as perches are just a few of the sights that stopped me in my tracks as I explored.







I also hadn't been aware previously of Alviso's wetlands, and their protected status as a wildlife reserve. For a number of years the salt wetlands (and their resident egrets, mallards, brine flies, etc.) were severely threatened by the expansion of San Jose's water treatment facilities into the area, and by asbestos and other contaminants. Conditions have improved somewhat, but salt marsh restoration is ongoing, and the ecosystem is still on the fragile side.

Walking along the trail areas of the Alviso salt marsh and mud flats (some areas are closed off to the public due to restoration regulations, but there is still plenty of ground to explore on foot regardless), I noted a preponderance of bright turquoise, orange-tan, gray-green, and maroon hues.


Alviso marsh colors



In glancing at the maroon flora growing in dense clusters along the water's edge, I noticed exquisite, minuscule daisylike blooms. When I crouched down with my camera to get a "macro" shot of these flowers, I found myself awestruck: the reddish "foliage" was actually comprised of tiny, scintillating, liquid-filled membranous bubbles!


Closeup of marsh plants



Near one of the hollowed-out buildings, I crouched down again and watched a hoverfly for a while. Many animals make their home in Alviso.


A tiny hoverfly rests on a flower in the Alviso marshlands



The old Laine grocery store looks so full of stories that one wishes one could lift up the flaps of flaking, petallike ash-gray wood and listen.



...and if one peeks inside the circuit box on the side of the building, one will find the ragged rust-blurred curls of the label on an ancient electrical fuse:


A fuse in the electrical box outside Laine's Grocery Store, 2008



It is impossible to tell from looking at Alviso today what will become of it fifty, a hundred, a thousand years from now. Certainly things will continue to change, and this is not necessarily bad: after all, the restoration of the salt marshes and the recognition of at least two endangered species (the California clapper rail and the salt marsh harvest mouse) in the area have come about as humans have acknowledged the negative consequences of our own prior actions. We can and do learn.

We will likely continue attaching power lines to things...


Electrical lines attached to the Henry Wade Warehouse



...and adding structures to suit our preferred activities, such as bicycle racks...


A spiral bicycle rack casts shadows near the entrance to the wetlands park



...and I certainly don't have a problem with that sort of thing. However, I do see places like Alviso as being in tremendous need of, well, respect -- there's so much history there, and it would be a terrible shame if it were all just bulldozed and turned into generic suburban sprawl.

I doubt the residents will let that happen if they have anything to say about it, but still...I wanted to write about Alviso here in part because of how different the initial impression of it I was given (i.e., that it was "empty" and "a dump") turned out to be from the reality. The reality of Alviso is that it is anything but empty, and that it will richly reward anyone with the patience to stand in the midst of the tall marshgrass, listening to (or even simply feeling) the wind whispering by.





See Also:

1. Alviso.com
2. History of the Alviso Neighborhood
3. More photos of Alviso in my Flickr album
4. "Elusive Alviso" (more information and essays about the town)