This article first appeared on 9 March 2026 in #NDChat, my newsletter on LinkedIn.

Debates about autism and ADHD are becoming increasingly polarised.

“Enlightened centrist.”

“Empty.”

“Void of any merit.”

These were the words used to describe me and a comment I made in a discussion about a recent article featuring an interview with Uta Frith published in TES.

Over the course of my career, at times I’ve been called far worse than that! Anyone who has worked in education long enough develops a fairly thick skin.

Nevertheless, I would be lying if I said the language used did not disappoint me. As the father of a son who is autistic and trans, I have become used to seeing comments that are at best hurtful and at worst openly hostile. Hardly a day passes without a headline, report or political soundbite that makes life harder for my son and our family and for others like us. Even so, I do not call for people such as Dr Hilary Cass to be silenced, nor do I insult those with a different perspective.

My starting point in all of this is simple: autistic people deserve understanding, dignity and the support they need to thrive.

I am also an advocate for neurodivergent people and for improving the systems that support them.

Personal experience

My own son is autistic. He has faced very real challenges as a result of his autism, particularly with social interaction and anxiety. Those experiences have shaped my understanding of both the importance of recognition and the importance of meaningful support.

For families like ours, conversations about autism are not abstract debates. They shape how society understands autistic people and the support that is available to them.

Professional experience

When I first started teaching in 1997, I worked in a North London school that had an excellent autism resource provision called Pathways. It opened the year I started teaching and still exists today.

The wonderful children in that provision reflected the wide diversity of experiences and support needs that exist within autism. Many were integrated into mainstream classes in ways that were carefully shaped around their individual needs.

I worked with those pupils and the specialist team every day for five years and regularly met with the families.

Those years left a lasting impression on me. They demonstrated clearly that autism encompasses a very wide range of experiences and support needs. Some pupils required highly structured environments and intensive support, while others were able to participate in mainstream classes for significant parts of the day.

It is from that perspective — both as a parent and as someone who has spent decades working in schools — that I read the recent article featuring Uta Frith published in TES.

The current debate

For the record, I can fully understand why some people felt so strongly about the article.

Uta Frith is one of the most influential researchers in the field, but parts of the article were, at best, insensitive and bound to provoke concern. It is also fair to say that several of the points she raised are heavily contested within the research community, how autism prevalence should be interpreted, later diagnosis, women, masking and how the concept of the autism spectrum has evolved over time.

At the same time, it is important to recognise why emotions run high in discussions like this.

Autistic people have faced decades of misunderstanding, marginalisation and discrimination. The neurodiversity movement has played a vital role in challenging those attitudes and ensuring autistic voices are heard.

That progress matters.

Different vantage points

Debates like this often reflect people looking at the same issue from different vantage points.

This isn’t linear or fixed, and in reality these roles often overlap and inform one another. But broadly speaking we often see:

• Researchers generating knowledge.

• Clinicians applying it in practice.

• Policy makers structuring systems around it.

• Others translating it into real-world contexts such as schools, workplaces and families.

When those perspectives drift apart, people can end up talking past each other. That dynamic is not unique to neurodivergence, but it can become particularly visible around subjects like this.

Education often sits at the point where all of these perspectives meet.

My original comment

For context, this was the comment I posted in that discussion:

“We have to be careful not to slip into framing this as if autistic people or those with ADHD with fewer day-to-day support needs are seeking the same level of support as individuals who are non-speaking, require lifelong 24-hour care, or have severe intellectual and complex disabilities.

Needs exist across a spectrum and support should be proportionate.

At a time when education, health and social care systems are under intense resource pressure, there is a risk that debates about diagnostic categories become entangled with questions about funding and capacity.

The real challenge is designing systems that recognise this diversity of need rather than questioning the legitimacy of people’s experiences.”

Diversity of need

Autism encompasses a wide range of experiences and support needs.

Some individuals live independently and require relatively little day-to-day support. Others are non-speaking, live with profound intellectual disability and require lifelong, round-the-clock care and support.

“Both realities exist. Both deserve recognition, dignity and respect.”

But the consequences of misunderstanding this diversity can be very real. Employment outcomes for autistic adults remain among the lowest of any group in the labour market. In the UK, around 30% of autistic adults are in employment, compared with around 50% of disabled people overall and more than 80% of non-disabled people.

Statistics like these remind us that debates about autism are not simply academic. They shape how systems are designed, how resources are allocated and ultimately the opportunities available to autistic people throughout their lives.

The real challenge, particularly in education, is designing systems that recognise this diversity of need in a fair and proportionate way.

Recognising that autistic people have very different levels of support needs is not about questioning anyone’s experience. It is about ensuring that those who require the most intensive and lifelong support are not forgotten.

Genuine concerns

It is also important to recognise that debates about autism and ADHD do not take place in a political or economic vacuum. Education, health and social care systems across many countries are under significant financial pressure, and rising demand for support inevitably becomes part of wider policy discussions about resources, thresholds and eligibility.

In that context, it is understandable that some people view critical commentary about diagnosis or prevalence through a political lens. Those concerns are real and should not be dismissed.

At the same time, not every academic or critical perspective should automatically be interpreted as part of a coordinated attempt to undermine neurodivergent people or the progress made by the neurodiversity movement.

Beyond the echo chamber

One question I often ask myself in debates like this is:

“What is the point of performing for an echo chamber?”

The people who already hold strong views on these issues are unlikely to change them in a LinkedIn thread. But there are many others quietly reading these conversations — teachers, parents, school leaders, clinicians and policymakers — whose understanding of neurodivergence is still evolving.

How we conduct these discussions matters for them. If disagreement is dismissed as “empty” or “void”, it becomes harder for those outside the debate to engage with the complexity of the issue.

Without that wider understanding, it becomes harder to build the public support needed to improve systems of support.

What this looks like in schools

For those working in schools, these issues are not theoretical.

Every day teachers and school leaders are supporting pupils with a wide range of neurodivergent needs while systems are under significant pressure. Honest and thoughtful discussion about how support is designed and delivered is therefore essential if we are going to get this right for young people.

The risk of polarised debate

The neurodiversity movement has achieved a great deal in challenging outdated assumptions and improving understanding. I would hate to see debates like this become drawn into the dynamics of cancel culture rather than the thoughtful discussion needed to move understanding forward.

Progress rarely comes from hardening into opposing camps. In education it usually comes from people with different perspectives being willing to sit with complexity, challenge ideas respectfully and continue the conversation.

Final thought

Ultimately, most of us are trying to achieve the same thing: a society that understands neurodiversity better and systems that enable young people to thrive.

Achieving that goal will require empathy, honesty — and the willingness to keep having difficult conversations.