Commenting on the autism thing (as I’ve got an insider’s perspective there): one thing that strongly characterized my experience growing up was being consistently “mis-read” by those around me. While I (and, I’d wager, most others on the autistic spectrum) do have some “standard” reactions to things (like laughing when amused, smiling when happy, etc.), I don’t always emote in visibly standard ways. This led a lot of people, while I was growing up, to believe that I “didn’t care” in situations where I cared deeply, that I had intentions I didn’t have, that I was sad/lonely when in fact I was just neutrally preoccupied with something, etc.
I also tend(ed) to get read as “nervous” a lot because I can be fidgety and have difficulty speaking (or, in some cases, talk a mile a minute simply because I don’t have much vocal modulation) -- and while like everyone I get anxious occasionally, I am probably no more generally anxious than average, and despite being introverted, I am definitely not “shy”.
Anyway, even before I found out I was on the spectrum, I had figured out that I was (what I termed) “differently mapped”—as in, I’d realized that my outward signals didn’t mean the same things that people assumed them to. Earlier, in around fourth grade, I’d determined that I might actually be an alien because of how disconnected I felt from those around me and how often I was called “weirdo”. I soon decided that it was scientifically infeasible for me to actually have come from outer space, but still, in communicating with other autistics, I have been amazed at how common it is for us to wonder as children whether we’re “not entirely human”. There’s even some thought that “changeling” mythology (in which young children are said to have been “replaced” by elves or faerie babies, whose qualities perplex or annoy the parents) is based in early observations of autistics and other atypical children.
Also, regarding the “autistics anthropomorphize less” thing: my experience as a youngster was subjectively similar to what I’ve seen termed “panpsychism”. That is, I didn’t really distinguish between “live” and “non-live” things at all, or between humans and nonhuman animals—everything was “potentially alive” as far as I was concerned. I’ve since learned otherwise (due to learning about brains and nerves and such), and I no longer wonder if objects like pencils and Lego blogs feel pain, but I definitely still feel a kind of “psychological unity” with nonhuman animals, especially cats, as their actions make a lot of sense to me for some reason.
I’ve confirmed that I am not unique in this among the autistic population; several others have described similar experiences (I know one autistic kid who, upon determining that the electronic pokemon plush he’d just gotten at the store didn’t light up the way it was supposed to, decided to keep it anyway because he figured it still needed a home). Which is interesting to me, as the stereotype seems to be that autistics see the whole world (including the people in it) as “dead” and “empty”. My experience was the precise opposite of this; I perceived the whole world as vibrant and suffused with great depth and beauty and complexity, to the point where humans didn’t always stand out as the most interesting thing in my environment (which is probably why I was seen as “oblivious to other people” at times).
Nevertheless, I certainly wouldn’t describe autistics as “actually alien”, as we evolved here on Earth just like everyone else. We’re just a particular variation of human. And I do actually think that despite the lack of a simplistic “psychological unity” that can be fully detected on the basis of outward expressions, there is definitely a deeper psychological unity. Autistic humans and nonautistic humans alike can feel happy, sad, frustrated, angry, appreciative of beauty, disgusted, etc., even if we show these emotions in different ways and in response (sometimes) to different experiences.
One of the great challenges of what I’d call “social progress” is that of figuring out how humans with different cognitive styles can learn to communicate with one another and recognize that different but equally “valid” minds do in fact exist already within the human population. I also think it is probably relevant to AI research to look at how humans who are cognitively different in various ways end up coming to understand one another, because this does happen at least occasionally. I’ve noticed that in relating to other autistics I experience a lot more of what feels like the ability to take accurate “short cuts” to mutual understanding, and it occurred to me a while back that perhaps that “short cut” feeling is what many nonautistic people experience all the time with the majority of those around them.
Commenting on the autism thing (as I’ve got an insider’s perspective there): one thing that strongly characterized my experience growing up was being consistently “mis-read” by those around me. While I (and, I’d wager, most others on the autistic spectrum) do have some “standard” reactions to things (like laughing when amused, smiling when happy, etc.), I don’t always emote in visibly standard ways. This led a lot of people, while I was growing up, to believe that I “didn’t care” in situations where I cared deeply, that I had intentions I didn’t have, that I was sad/lonely when in fact I was just neutrally preoccupied with something, etc.
I also tend(ed) to get read as “nervous” a lot because I can be fidgety and have difficulty speaking (or, in some cases, talk a mile a minute simply because I don’t have much vocal modulation) -- and while like everyone I get anxious occasionally, I am probably no more generally anxious than average, and despite being introverted, I am definitely not “shy”.
Anyway, even before I found out I was on the spectrum, I had figured out that I was (what I termed) “differently mapped”—as in, I’d realized that my outward signals didn’t mean the same things that people assumed them to. Earlier, in around fourth grade, I’d determined that I might actually be an alien because of how disconnected I felt from those around me and how often I was called “weirdo”. I soon decided that it was scientifically infeasible for me to actually have come from outer space, but still, in communicating with other autistics, I have been amazed at how common it is for us to wonder as children whether we’re “not entirely human”. There’s even some thought that “changeling” mythology (in which young children are said to have been “replaced” by elves or faerie babies, whose qualities perplex or annoy the parents) is based in early observations of autistics and other atypical children.
Also, regarding the “autistics anthropomorphize less” thing: my experience as a youngster was subjectively similar to what I’ve seen termed “panpsychism”. That is, I didn’t really distinguish between “live” and “non-live” things at all, or between humans and nonhuman animals—everything was “potentially alive” as far as I was concerned. I’ve since learned otherwise (due to learning about brains and nerves and such), and I no longer wonder if objects like pencils and Lego blogs feel pain, but I definitely still feel a kind of “psychological unity” with nonhuman animals, especially cats, as their actions make a lot of sense to me for some reason.
I’ve confirmed that I am not unique in this among the autistic population; several others have described similar experiences (I know one autistic kid who, upon determining that the electronic pokemon plush he’d just gotten at the store didn’t light up the way it was supposed to, decided to keep it anyway because he figured it still needed a home). Which is interesting to me, as the stereotype seems to be that autistics see the whole world (including the people in it) as “dead” and “empty”. My experience was the precise opposite of this; I perceived the whole world as vibrant and suffused with great depth and beauty and complexity, to the point where humans didn’t always stand out as the most interesting thing in my environment (which is probably why I was seen as “oblivious to other people” at times).
Nevertheless, I certainly wouldn’t describe autistics as “actually alien”, as we evolved here on Earth just like everyone else. We’re just a particular variation of human. And I do actually think that despite the lack of a simplistic “psychological unity” that can be fully detected on the basis of outward expressions, there is definitely a deeper psychological unity. Autistic humans and nonautistic humans alike can feel happy, sad, frustrated, angry, appreciative of beauty, disgusted, etc., even if we show these emotions in different ways and in response (sometimes) to different experiences.
One of the great challenges of what I’d call “social progress” is that of figuring out how humans with different cognitive styles can learn to communicate with one another and recognize that different but equally “valid” minds do in fact exist already within the human population. I also think it is probably relevant to AI research to look at how humans who are cognitively different in various ways end up coming to understand one another, because this does happen at least occasionally. I’ve noticed that in relating to other autistics I experience a lot more of what feels like the ability to take accurate “short cuts” to mutual understanding, and it occurred to me a while back that perhaps that “short cut” feeling is what many nonautistic people experience all the time with the majority of those around them.