The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

by Douglas Adams

My last two blog posts have been concerned with autism diagnoses. There is another thing I'd like to say on the subject, but I'm a afraid it will involve a rather large digression. I hope it's at least a fun and whimsical digression, especially as this blog is about topics that do not readily invite either. I am going to seize the opportunity.

I first encountered this five-book trilogy in my childhood. I thought it only slightly amusing and very weird. I didn't give it too much thought. I rediscovered it in my twenties, at which point it started to grow on me a little. It was only when I re-read it when solidly in middle age, after buying the series for another little orangutan who soon lost interest, that it all came together for me.

I love the absurdity that so artfully conveys the inexplicable nature of the real universe we somehow find ourselves in. I love the science fiction, the boundless setting of the universe, the unpredictability, the humour, and the underlying humanity. Despite an unlimited ability to travel through time and space, Arthur Dent is subject to all manner of ludicrous events beyond his control that hurtle him randomly through the universe. He just gets on with things, as one must. He lives a full life along the way -- travels, a vocation as a sandwich maker, companions, a partner, a daughter. It's sort of A Gentleman in Moscow turned on its head. Answers, or at least meaningful ones, are in short supply (aren't they always?), despite the ultimate answer of 42 being ever present.

But How is Any of This Relevant to a Discussion of Neurodiversity?

Well, the first thing is the simple phrase "DON'T PANIC". I really can't think of any better words of wisdom. I will write more about that in a future post.

The trilogy also has its practical uses. In a moment of desperation, I invoked the Vogons to help explain to Oranguette some incomprehensible doings of her school administration. I think it was the only explanation that could have helped (and it did). To be fair, I should note that I do have a certain fondness for Vogons and understand their necessity in the universe. Even if they do destroy the Earth along the way.

But none of that is why I set out to write a Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy post to make a point about an Autism Spectrum Disorder diagnosis.

Finally, to the Main Point

Astrology. It's just like astrology.

In Mostly Harmless, when Tricia McMillan is talking with the astrologer Gail Andrews, the following conversation unfolds:

'I know that astrology isn’t a science,' said Gail. 'Of course it isn’t. It’s just an arbitrary set of rules like chess or tennis or, what’s that strange thing you British play?' 'Er, cricket? Self-loathing?' 'Parliamentary democracy. The rules just kind of got there. They don't make any kind of sense except in terms of themselves. But when you start to exercise those rules, all sorts of processes start to happen and you start to find out all sorts of stuff about people. In astrology the rules happen to be about stars and planets, but they could be about ducks and drakes for all the difference it would make. It's just a way of thinking about a problem which lets the shape of that problem begin to emerge. The more rules, the tinier the rules, the more arbitrary they are, the better. It's like throwing a handful of fine graphite dust on a piece of paper to see where the hidden indentations are. It lets you see the words that were written on the piece of paper above it that's now been taken away and hidden. The graphite's not important. It's just the means of revealing their indentations. So you see, astrology's nothing to do with astronomy. It's just to do with people thinking about people.

I put no stock in astrology. To be completely honest, after our experiences with psychiatrists, I am inclined to say that I put even less stock in psychiatry and a diagnostic manual like DSM-5 written by psychiatrists.* I don't really understand, for example, why Asperger's Syndrome was removed from DSM-5 (although I fully understand why we shouldn't be memorializing Hans Asperger's name). I honestly would not be one bit surprised if that change had no other basis than some feud within the psychiatric establishment that started with Dr. A taking umbrage at Dr. B's lunch. I fully expect the diagnostic criteria for and categorizations of autism to evolve over time.

Nevertheless, an ASD diagnosis has been both necessary and helpful for Oranguette. Skilled professionals can indeed use the tiny, arbitrary rules and graphite dust to provide genuine insights and support. An ASD diagnosis may not provide all the answers, but it allows the right questions to be asked. Which, in this mostly nonsensical universe, is something.

* I suppose such a contentious opinion (which is all it is) needs some clarification. I am not discouraging anyone from seeking out psychiatric care, and I sincerely hope nobody reading this would ever take the ramblings of an anonymous online orangutan as medical advice. In our neck of the woods, psychiatric care is not available in the community. Psychologists of one sort or another and pediatricians provide things like assessment and medication management that might otherwise be done by a psychiatrist. Our unavoidable dealings with psychiatrists have all occurred in the context of crisis care in a highly stressed medical system. However there is no getting around the fact that, for us, the vast majority of those interactions were horrible and unhelpful. Only one interaction was necessary and helpful, and it was only necessary because of all the system failures that led up to it. We certainly could have benefited immensely from appropriate, timely access to a psychiatrist who could have offered something more than claiming Oranguette was using autism as "an excuse". Yes, I am bitter and disappointed. But one day the lot of them will one day get visited by Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged and receive some appropriate insults, so there's that.