Comments on an autism self-assessment test
This is an entry from my journal.
Earlier today I read Sacha Chua’s latest blog post with the title Continuing my experiment with (semi-)retirement. There I learnt about the Autism Spectrum Quotient (AQ), which is a test to self-assess one’s potential autism.
As this is a topic that interests me, I took the test. My score is 12 out of 50, which suggests that I have, at the very most, some autism traits. Though I think even that is a stretch: I am not autistic.
As the authors point out in their introduction, such questionnaires do not constitute a final verdict. Their utility consists in being a screening tool. They capture a first impression, which can then inform further research. Beside that, it is helpful for everybody to be aware of neurodiversity because then we can better understand our fellow people.
Since I took the test, I will comment on a few questions that illustrate the caution I generally have when it comes to these sort of tools: if we take them at face value, we can reach preliminary conclusions that are not going to be helpful.
“I prefer to do things with others rather than on my own”
I answered “slightly disagree” but I could have picked anything.
My favourite activity of all time is football, which is a team sport. I love playing football. Though I do not care much about fan culture or even watching matches. I enjoy the physical contact, the shittalking, the fights, the camaraderie, the effort it takes to be an athlete. It is wonderful.
I have, furthermore, been involved in jobs that are sociable or people-oriented throughout. My current job, coaching, is all about working with others. I enjoy it greatly.
In short, I have a strong pro-social side.
Still, much of my life involves solo activities. Chief among them is my writing, as I am doing right now. This is not a multiplayer game. When you are writing as much as I do, then you necessarily spend plenty of time in your own world. You are absorbed in thought, you concentrate, you collect ideas, you piece them together into coherent statements and compelling narratives. Your solitude is what pushes you to venture deeper into the hinterlands of the mind, to explore what few will ever see and to eventually return with a story to tell them.
My hikes are similarly solitary even though hiking is not inherently so. There is nobody in my wider region who walks like I do. Or, at least, I have never met them in all these years.
I have, furthermore, explained how I experience loneliness in this specific regard. In short, there is a part of me, my intellectual side, for which I feel I have no peers. “Peers” not in the sense that I am smarter or more intense, which might also be true, but that there is nobody around who shares those interests or, anyhow, has the intellectual curiosity to go beyond the surface level.
The loneliness, in effect, is that I cannot bring friends into my world. It is as if I am a fish that has somehow befriended humans. I am saying “hey, come to my place sometime” only to then remind myself that humans cannot live at the bottom of the ocean. But these are the only friends I can have, since I actually I am no fish.
Those granted, I have a pronounced sense of autonomy. I want to be with others and enjoy it very much, but I will not go out of my way for the sake of sociability. Concretely, I remain committed to my lifestyle and will not violate it to be more likeable. For example, I will not start drinking alcohol just to be amiable. No.
This is what autonomy is, by the way: self-rule. People tend to focus on the “self” part and how many options they have while forgetting the other half. If you have rules, then you apply them consistently in accordance with practical reasonableness. Otherwise, you do not have autonomy long-term because one “cheat day” after another will lead you to habits that are harmful (e.g. excessive alcohol consumption) which will, in turn, undo whatever rules you once had in place: the cheat days will become your new normal.
I thus am a pro-social person who is also fine being alone. This kind of in-between-ness describes me in may ways, in fact. I do not quite fit in to any group. I think for myself and follow my own path.
“I tend to have very strong interests, which I get upset about if I can’t pursue”
These are two different things in practice. One is to have strong interests, while the other is how easy it is for a person to get upset.
The latter does not describe me at all. It is very unlikely for me to feel frustrated. I have patience and my overall lifestyle over the decades helps me regulate emotion.
In short, I am stable. I liken myself to a cube. It is not fancy. There is not much to it with a “wow” factor. It is basic, really, once we compare it to more elaborate shapes. But a cube is resilient. No matter how you toss it, it will still be there, balanced and reliable. Compare that to some statue chiselled out of marble, for example. You are afraid to touch the statue because you understand how fragile it is
About having strong interests, however, this is definitely descriptive of me. I am the kind of person who goes in depth and does not get distracted. I will commit to something and keep doing it indefinitely.
Whatever I do, I want to do it well. Maybe not to the point of being the best at it, but to at least feel that I gave it my undivided attention as well as a fair chance to make an impression on me.
Given these, I responded to this question with “strongly disagree”. I do not get upset if I do not get what I like. I am calm about it. But, yes, what I like, I show loyalty to it.
“New situations make me anxious”
My answer is strongly negative, because I normally cope well with unknowns. This is directly linked to emotional regulation. If you think of me as a soundwave, then you will notice that there are no sudden peaks and valleys. It is a more subtle kind of tune.
If new situations were to make me anxious, then I would not be a philosopher. Whereas I thrive in openness and open-ended-ness. I can tolerate uncertainty and keep a thought without feeling pressured to let go of it.
As a philosopher, I take every idea seriously and will give it its due. I do not dismiss anything without considering how it might be right. This may sound easy, until you realise that lots of thoughts can upset us if we are not prepared for them.
Beside that, even seemingly innocuous and safe ideas can be dangerous if you dig deep enough. This is because you might discover something that is true in a more profound way; true to the point where your world collapses in the new insight.
A person must be ready to deal with such an eventuality before they even commit seriously to philosophy. Otherwise, truth will haunt them. In other words, people who feel anxiety in the face of new situations had better avoid what I do.
You have to imagine this as a risky adventure. I will go all alone into the forest because, fundamentally, I know that I am the most dangerous animal out there.
Those granted, what exactly we mean by new situations can change the final answer to the questionnaire. Do new situations involve betrayal, for instance? Could we be describing a case where one’s life is in danger? Are they being chased down by the authorities? How far do we want to go in the direction of something causing distress before we eventually answer the test affirmatively?
“I am a good diplomat”
This is another one that is tricky to consider. I already covered autonomy and how that means that I will stand my ground. In one sense, this makes me a terrible diplomat, because I will say exactly what I think. If I am pushed around, I will push back.
Though here we have to factor in emotional control. The way I will say something with calm will not trigger a strong reaction. This is because I am effectively not raising the other person’s emotional alarms. They get my message without feeling threatened.
So I do not find myself in troublesome situations because of something I said. This makes me more of a good diplomat. Additionally, I am a good listener and can engage in conversation for hours. Doing so helps me understand the other person’s position. Beside what they are saying, I also discern subtleties in their body language. I can read between the lines and understand what their need in a given situation is. This is a valuable skill for a diplomat.
Now to further complicate all this, I also have a certain upbringing and lifestyle that makes me rugged. I do not have the comforts that some people do and am thus content with tolerating some rough situation. Plus, my competitiveness, as seen through my involvement with football, among others, gives me a feeling that pushing for some discomfort is benign. Though I counterbalance that propensity for toughness with common sense and an understanding of what each person can do.
Closing thoughts
I could go through each question, but you can already get what I am working towards. This is a tool that can help us make sense of ourselves and of others. It is, nonetheless, important not to identify with its results because it cannot capture nuance.
The commentary I have provided here shows that at least for some questions you can reasonably answer with a strong agreement or disagreement. But therein lies the trap: the results will look quite different if you keep doing that.
At any rate, we all have to educate ourselves about other people. We live among them and should know how to treat each other well.