In a time when the voices of neurodivergent individuals are only beginning to be heard and valued on their own terms, it is deeply disturbing to witness public figures—especially those seeking high office—revive narratives that dehumanise and diminish them. Recent comments by Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., suggesting that autistic individuals are a “burden” on society due to their inability to “work” or “pay taxes,” warrant not just outrage—but reflection. These are not merely careless remarks; they are emblematic of a deeper, more insidious problem: the resurgence of a logic that history has already exposed as deadly.
To understand the gravity of such rhetoric, we must revisit one of the most chilling ideological and bureaucratic programmes of the 20th century: Aktion T4 in Nazi Germany. Between 1939 and 1945, this state-sanctioned “euthanasia” programme targeted individuals deemed “Lebensunwertes Leben”—“life unworthy of life.” The victims were not soldiers, criminals, or political opponents; they were disabled children, neurodivergent individuals, people with mental illness or intellectual disabilities—those who, in the regime’s cold estimation, failed to meet a standard of economic or biological “fitness.”
Before the gas chambers of Auschwitz and Sobibor, before the industrialised murder of millions, came the sterilisation clinics and “mercy killings” in German hospitals. These early atrocities were justified not on the grounds of hatred or vengeance, but on economics. The Nazi regime framed the existence of disabled and neurodivergent people as a financial burden on the state. In internal documents and propaganda, their continued care was described as wasteful, inefficient, and unfair to the productive majority. The German term Ausmerzen, meaning “to eradicate,” was used to describe this policy of quiet, systematic elimination.
The machinery of death began not with bullets or gas—but with ideas. With speeches. With normalised conversations about who “contributes” to society, and who does not.
And now, nearly a century later, we are hearing faint but unmistakable echoes of that same logic.
The Problem of Productivity as the Measure of Human Worth
The idea that human value can be reduced to economic contribution is not merely reductive—it is deeply dangerous. It transforms the human being into a commodity. And in such a worldview, those who fall outside the conventional workforce—the elderly, the disabled, the neurodivergent, the chronically ill—are rendered expendable.
It is no accident that neoliberal economic frameworks and far-right ideologies often meet at this crossroads. Both are prone to viewing people as units of productivity rather than as complex, interdependent beings embedded in community, culture, and care. Autistic people, in this frame, become “problems” to be solved, not people to be supported, empowered, and celebrated.
But autistic people are not burdens. They are artists, coders, teachers, friends, carers, scientists, and leaders. Some are verbal; some are not. Some work in conventional jobs; others contribute to their communities in ways that cannot be captured by tax returns or performance reviews. They enrich the social fabric by challenging norms, offering unique perspectives, and living lives that remind us of the full breadth of human experience.
To suggest that their value is contingent on employment or tax contribution is not only inaccurate—it’s ethically untenable.
Leadership, Memory, and Moral Clarity
As an educator and youth leadership facilitator working in communities historically fractured by division, I know how dangerous it is when language begins to otherise, to marginalise, to reduce. When leaders speak in ways that exclude, young people listen—and learn. They learn who is valued. Who belongs. Who matters.
History teaches us that cruelty often arrives dressed in the language of common sense. The architects of Aktion T4 were not madmen in basements. They were physicians, policymakers, bureaucrats, and professors. They held conferences, published justifications, and maintained a quiet, professional tone as they made lethal decisions. Evil, as Hannah Arendt wrote, often appears banal—embedded in systems and processes, cloaked in administrative language.
We must not make the mistake of assuming that we are immune to such thinking today. When public figures question the value of neurodivergent people based on their economic output, they do not merely risk offense—they risk awakening an ideology that history has already thoroughly condemned.
A Call to the Academic and Professional Community
As educators, researchers, psychologists, social workers, health professionals, and leaders, we must meet this moment with clarity. We must reject any rhetoric that reduces human beings to economic units. We must remember that inclusive societies are not built on metrics of profitability, but on principles of dignity, equity, and care.
We also need to foster dialogue that celebrates neurodivergence, challenges stigma, and centres the lived experiences of autistic people themselves—not as passive subjects of study or charity, but as agents of change and insight in their own right.
This is not about political correctness. This is about historical literacy. About moral integrity. About refusing to allow old and dangerous ideas to wear new and respectable clothes.
To those who believe that the lives of autistic people matter less because they may not conform to normative economic expectations, I offer a reminder drawn not from ideology but from history:
It began this way before.
Let us ensure it ends differently now.
We live in a toxic world that is only getting more so. Whatever we can do to reverse the damage to our planet so that it remains habitable and we healthy, is paramount, and I don’t mean voting for every politician making green policy promises. I, for one, am ready to listen to people like RFK who seem to want real change with real impact, and I tire of the constant negativity and naysaying in the face of questioning the status quo. For example, the covid vaccine. It was forced on many of us, and yet, seems to have been basically useless. In my own life, I have various hormone level issues, as does my husband, and both of us at fairly young ages. My daughter has PPMD and had constant ovarian cysts until an injected birth control device helped. My son has severe ADHD and is likely on the autism spectrum. It is not a super power and it does not make his life easier. If there’s even a chance that changes to food production could prevent my grandchildren from suffering in similar ways, I would vote for it! Recognizing reality is not diminishing human value, just as ignoring disability does not reduce its impact. That’s the game of politics…Surely you aren’t just trying to sway feelings for political ends?
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I really respect your honesty and the depth of concern you’ve expressed—so much of it resonates, especially around the impact of environmental toxins, chronic health issues, and the sense that we’re not being told the full truth by those in power. Questioning the status quo is not only valid, it’s necessary if we want meaningful change.
But I do think we need to be careful about who we trust to lead these conversations. Robert F. Kennedy Jr. may sound like he’s challenging the system, but his long track record of promoting conspiracy theories—especially around vaccines—and his lack of relevant qualifications give me pause. He’s not a scientist or a public health expert, and much of what he says simplifies complex issues in ways that aren’t always accurate or helpful.
It’s easy to see why people are drawn to voices outside the mainstream—they often sound more honest or courageous. But charisma isn’t a substitute for evidence, and sometimes those “alternative” voices are just selling a different kind of story. We should absolutely demand better from our systems—but let’s make sure the solutions we pursue are grounded in facts, not just frustration.
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Thanks for pulling this History together. There is more in terms of who else were targeted such as the Roma and pacifist Protestant groups. Also the female concentration camp Ravensbrook and the horrific medical studies.
The late Pope Benedict lost a Down Syndrime relative to the program. It ( the program itself) was highlighted in The Man in the High Castle show.
This was directedly related to the United States were Germans came to study Jim Crow laws and eugenics.
It would be helpful to highlight Disability Studies and Departments. Also Narrstive Medicine has to be in connection with Disability Studies and Departments as well. Oral History archives with individuals and family members and professionals need to be put in place or supported. The amnesia must stop and truth and reconciliation begin as soon as possible.
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Thank you for this important and insightful contribution. You rightly highlight that the history of eugenics and targeted persecution extends beyond what is often discussed, including the Roma, pacifist Protestant groups, and the women of Ravensbrück subjected to horrific medical experimentation.
The personal connection you mention regarding Pope Benedict and his relative with Down Syndrome underscores how deeply this history still resonates. The transatlantic link, with Nazi Germany drawing on US eugenics and Jim Crow laws, is a critical context too often overlooked.
I fully agree that integrating Disability Studies with Narrative Medicine can provide a powerful framework to centre lived experience and challenge systemic erasure. Establishing and supporting oral history archives for individuals, families, and professionals is vital to breaking the cycle of amnesia and fostering meaningful truth and reconciliation.
Your points make clear how urgent and necessary this work is—thank you for pushing the conversation forward.
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Dear Mark,
‘Autism’ has no biological foundation (CEPUK, 2025), similar to the other 296 disorders classified in the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of ‘Mental Disorders’ (APA, 2013). Could you please elucidate your use of this scientifically unverified diagnosis, which is associated with a system that marginalizes individuals?
Kind regards,
Cat
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Dear Cat,
Thank you for your message and for raising an important and timely question.
You’re right to highlight that the diagnostic category of ‘autism’—like many within the DSM framework—is subject to intense debate, not only in terms of its biological underpinnings but also its social and political implications. I’m aware of the work of CEPUK and others who have called for a more critical approach to psychiatric classification, and I share concerns about how labels can be used to pathologise difference and justify systems of control or exclusion.
In referencing autism in my article, my intention was not to endorse the biomedical model uncritically, but to engage with the lived realities many families and individuals face—realities often shaped by the diagnosis, for better or worse. While the category may lack a definitive biological foundation, it undeniably shapes access to resources, educational supports, and legal protections. That complexity, in itself, is worth unpacking.
I believe we need to hold space for both rigorous critique of psychiatric constructs and compassionate engagement with those who find meaning, identity, or support through them. If the system marginalises people—as I agree it often does—then we need both analytical clarity and practical strategies to resist that marginalisation.
I appreciate your challenge and would welcome further dialogue.
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Let’s be real. I think you are attacking the wrong person. There’s nothing evil about counting the cost of survival. I’m sure it cost the early Christians who went about rescuing rejected babies from death-by-exposure and who began the legacy of charitable works. By contrast, today the material secularist worldview appears to monetize everyone to exploitation: Patients of the medical and psychiatric systems may be enrolled in research to advance professional careers, without their knowledge or consent, in the economic engine that redistributes tax revenues. The patients may be hastened to their deaths with assisted suicide and euthanasia when they become too costly as place holders in the economic engine. (Feel free to correct or expand upon my simple reference to the economic engine.) I am thankful for the candid conversation made possible by RFK, Jr. who wants to reduce suffering and end the betrayal of families , as we do in the MIA community.
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Thank you for engaging so thoughtfully—there’s a great deal in your comment that deserves careful attention. You’re absolutely right to raise concerns about how individuals, particularly vulnerable ones, can be reduced to economic units within systems that are ostensibly designed to care for them. The “economic engine” you reference is a useful image: it captures how policy, research, and service provision can become detached from the human lives they’re meant to support, especially when profit or efficiency override empathy or ethical nuance.
I also agree that we shouldn’t shy away from the moral courage it takes to challenge systems that have grown impersonal or exploitative. The early Christian communities you mention were indeed radical in their valuing of the marginalised—there’s a rich tradition there that can inspire contemporary resistance to dehumanisation in all its forms.
Where we may differ, respectfully, is in our assessment of figures like RFK Jr. While I appreciate that he has voiced critiques many feel are being suppressed in mainstream discourse, I do question the reliability and responsibility of some of the claims he promotes—especially given the very real consequences misinformation can have on public trust, health, and social cohesion. Critiquing the system is necessary, but I believe we need to do so with both moral clarity and evidentiary rigour.
The betrayal of families and individuals by institutions is real—and your mention of communities like Mad in America (MIA) reminds us that lived experience should never be dismissed. But my concern is that, in our hunger for truth-tellers, we don’t end up endorsing voices who may offer emotionally resonant narratives without the methodological care or interdisciplinary grounding we need for sustainable reform.
Thank you again for contributing to a difficult but necessary conversation. These are exactly the kinds of dialogues that can push us towards greater accountability, compassion, and collective wisdom.
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Every partnership, every household has to strategize how to supply the felt needs. Discovering the root of the increased rates of diagnosis of autism is a compassionate and humane endeavor to reduce suffering and there is no shame in pointing out the eventual savings in health related costs. If systemic corruption or bad science is the root of medical practices that cause harm, then discovery of those problems is worth the cost and effort. The cost of autism also includes that many patients diagnosed with autism also develop comorbidities due to forced psychiatric medication.
So many of us whose loved ones have been debilitated by psych drugs definitely do count the cost of forced medication that wasted the opportunity to provide real help. To get personal: After observing how one family member suffered in a psych ward with akathisia for months , in repeated hospitalizations, due to forced medication with risperidone or other, and how the stress from that alone created permanent health problems, I wrote a letter of complaint to the regional authorities to complain that the cost of keeping our loved one in hospital , while imposing so much iatrogenic harm, was a terrible waste of money which should have been allocated differently. To be real, our loved ones are devalued and exploited and in many cases destroyed; their terrible personal outcomes come at a price that is in many ways measured in dollars and cents. Someone smarter could say it better than me.
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Thank you for sharing such a powerful and personal reflection. You’re absolutely right that uncovering the root causes behind rising autism diagnoses—and ensuring genuinely supportive care—is a profoundly humane goal. The suffering caused by forced psychiatric interventions, especially when they result in lasting harm, deserves far more scrutiny than it currently receives.
It’s not only valid but essential to question medical practices and systemic failures, particularly when families are left counting both the emotional and economic costs. Your experience speaks to a wider truth: that care systems must be held accountable not just for their intentions, but for their outcomes. I’m grateful you added your voice to this conversation.
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Fraudulent -exploitative-stigmatizing-harmful, so-called care is what costs us in the negative sense. All types of care cost someone something. You are right that our worth should not be determined by what we contribute or produce. Nevertheless, questions about the cost and nature of care must be answered. Neglecting the necessary questions will lead to chaos, violence, trauma and suffering. Proactive solutions are what RFK, Jr. emphasizes. Encouraging others to think out of the box and to envision new arrangements probably appeals to RFK, Jr. You might be surprised.
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Thank you for this thoughtful and challenging response. I completely agree that we must ask difficult, often uncomfortable questions about the nature, cost, and consequences of care—especially when what’s being offered is, as you put it, exploitative, harmful, or rooted in stigma rather than support. Ignoring those questions does indeed risk deeper societal breakdown.
Where we might diverge is in our assessment of RFK Jr. While I respect the need for voices that challenge orthodoxy and push for imaginative, proactive solutions, I remain concerned about the spread of misinformation and the lack of scientific grounding behind many of his claims. Vision and critique are valuable, but they must also be tethered to rigour and responsibility—especially when public health and vulnerable lives are at stake.
Still, I appreciate your point about thinking outside the box. We do need bold reimagining of how care is structured and delivered. That’s something we can absolutely agree on.
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