Aspergers, Autism and Love

In this posting I want to explore the way someone loves someone else on the autistic spectrum. This exploration is partly a personal exploration as one of my grandsons is on this spectrum. My exploration starts with Charles Foster’s remark that his son is dyslexic and that he is glad . I’m not glad about my grandson’s aspergers and my reaction is one of indifference. Some might think me a very hard hearted person and that Foster’s attitude is infinitely preferable to mine. But I will argue indifference to my grandson’s condition is the only reasonable position for me to take and that being either glad or sad are inappropriate. My indifference does not mean I am indifferent to him as a person. Prior to making my argument I must examine exactly what Foster is glad about.

Let it be accepted that Foster like all good parents is glad to have his son, is glad his son exists. But is there any connection between his natural gladness and dyslexia? What exactly is Foster glad about when talking about his son’s dyslexia? Firstly, Foster might be glad his son is dyslexic or secondly he might be glad his son has dyslexia? To answer the above questions it is important to differentiate clearly between what is meant by being dyslexic and having dyslexia. Being dyslexic means someone’s character is inevitably tied to his dyslexia; his dyslexia helps determine his character. Having dyslexia means someone suffers from dyslexia and that his character is not inevitably tied to his dyslexia. If Foster is glad his son has dyslexia then it is hard to see what he is being glad about in addition to being glad about having his son. It seems to me that Foster must mean he is glad that his son is dyslexic. In this context it seems if he is glad about his son he is glad about the dyslexia only because he believes his son’s dyslexia is inevitably tied to his son’s character; is inevitably tied to his son as a person. I am by no means convinced that dyslexia is inevitably tied to character as having dyslexia doesn’t appear to alter the underlying emotional structure of the dyslexic. I will not pursue this question further here. Unfortunately, aspergers syndrome affects someone’s underlying emotional structure which I believe means it is inevitably tied to his character.

In the light of the above am I not being both unreasonable and hardhearted with my indifference to my grandson’s aspergers? Am I not being indifferent to his character and perhaps even his essential being? Clearly it seems this is what Foster would believe. Before proceeding I had better clarify exactly what I mean by my being indifferent. Being indifferent means I hope that I am neither hard hearted nor callous, but on the other hand I’m not glad either. Moreover, my indifference is not simply a grudging one because I have no choice and wish things were otherwise. I simply accept my grandson’s condition. My acceptance, my indifference, is not expressed as some kind of emotion but rather as a lack of any desire on my part to change the situation. In addition my acceptance includes a lack of desire that the situation might have been different. In the light of some of my previous postings concerning the philosophy of Harry Frankfurt it is important to make it clear my acceptance is simply acceptance and is not a form of loving or ‘caring about’. Loving or ‘caring about’ involves the agent identifying himself with what he cares about. I simply accept or am indifferent to my grandson’s aspergers, to the cause of his character. However, there is no reason why my indifference should carry over to his actual character. This indifference should give no reason why I should fail to identify myself with him and what he ‘cares about’. I have no reason not to love him and many reasons to do so. Does Foster’s being glad at his son’s dyslexia involve any more than my simple acceptance? I’m not sure, but if it does doesn’t his gladness imply that if his son was not dyslexic he would be less happy?

Intuitively my indifference seems to make more sense than being glad about my grandson’s condition. However, should I be sad about his aspergers? Am I not wrong to be indifferent to this condition? I will argue I am not. Firstly, Foster believes if we could take away his son’s dyslexia he would be a different person. I’m not sure Foster is correct. However, I am sure that if we could take away my grandson’s aspergers he would be a different person. If I was sad about my grandson’s condition what exactly would I be sad about? I cannot be sad about him not being a more social person for this is impossible. As a more social person he would be a different person. Provided I cannot reasonably be sad he isn’t the same person but with additional talents then it would appear if I am sad I must be sad he is not someone else. It appears to follow I must be sad he exists provided that he could be replaced by someone else without aspergers syndrome. However, I love my grandson and I believe this love rules out such a thought. Someone might object that I could love someone else with additional talents instead. It is of course true I could love someone else, perhaps an additional grandchild, but I would argue I couldn’t love someone else instead. Frankfurt argues ‘caring about’ someone is equivalent to loving her. Caring about someone means you identify yourself with that person and become vulnerable to his losses and susceptible to what benefits him (1). Moreover, the lover is not free he is captivated by his beloved and his love. The will of the lover is rigorously constrained. Love is not a matter of choice (2). If I love my wife I can’t simply swap her for a younger woman with a Phd. My objector might counter that this is exactly what lovers do all the time especially rich middle aged men. I would counter argue that my objector is construing the terms ‘lover’ and ‘partner’ as being interchangeable. Partners need not be lovers. A patriot cannot simply swap the love of his country for a bigger and better one any more than a football supporter change his allegiance and support a more successful team. It seems inconceivable that a lover of Newcastle United could simply change his allegiance to a more successful team. It follows a lover cannot easily love someone else instead of his beloved. His love is constrained or captured by his beloved. It further follows that because I love my grandson I cannot want to replace my grandson by someone else. It still further follows that I have no reason to be sad about his aspergers and hence my indifference to this condition is a perfectly reasonable.

Nevertheless, even if it is accepted my indifference to his condition is a reasonable position a personally awkward question arises.  People are easily deluded and perhaps I am deluding myself when I say I don’t see why his condition should make me love him less? Perhaps all I'm doing is adopting a stoical attitude and stoics have problems with love, see why I'm not a stoic. I suggested above if you love someone you identify yourself with him and become vulnerable to his losses and susceptible to what benefits him. You ‘care about’ his interests. Accepting the above my objector might suggest that I must care less about my grandson because his aspergers means his interests make it more difficult for me to ‘care about’ him. This lessening of my ability to care might occur for two reasons. First it might be suggested someone with aspergers has narrower interests than most people. Second it might be suggested that even if someone with aspergers does not have fewer interests than most people that nonetheless he has different interests. This second suggestion seems plausible after all someone with aspergers often has difficulty with social relationships and these are of major concern to most people. Moreover, those with aspergers are attracted by routine and order. My objector might now proceed to point out most people find it more difficult to ‘care about’ routine and order rather than social relationships. This follows because to ‘care about’ requires an emotional response. She might then argue this difficulty causes me to love my grandson to a lesser degree due to his aspergers.

If this is all there is to loving then I have to concede that my objector might well have a point and even if I am not being hypocritical I might nonetheless be deluding myself about the true extent of my love. Perhaps for instance I am deluding myself because I love my daughter. Perhaps however there is more to loving, ‘caring about’, than making yourself vulnerable to your beloved’s losses and benefits. The important question is this, do you simply identify with your beloved and this means you become vulnerable to his losses and benefits? Or do you simply become vulnerable to his losses and benefits? I am inclined to favour the first option. However my objector might well ask me if I could love someone who was in a coma and had nothing that would consciously benefit or harm him. She might proceed to further stipulate this person has always been in a coma in order to rule out my being swayed by anything that would previously have consciously benefited or harmed him. Being truthful I would have to admit I could not identify with such a person. Nonetheless I am reluctant to accept the second option as it seems imply that the lover simply loves the properties of the beloved rather than the beloved. This the position Plato adopted in the symposium.

In order to consider whether I love my grandson to a lesser degree because of his aspergers I want to consider loving from a different angle. Do I love someone when I am asleep or when I am concentrating hard on something else. When sleeping and at certain particular moments it seems clear I am not actively loving, ‘caring about’, my beloved. Does the above lead to the conclusion that at these moments I do not love my beloved? Most people would be reluctant to accept such a conclusion as it is so counter intuitive. If such a conclusion is unacceptable then it would appear loving someone involves both actually ‘caring about’ a beloved’s interests and having a disposition to ‘care about’ these interests. My objector might nonetheless continue to suggest that a disposition to ‘care about’ is not an essential part of loving someone; loving someone should only concern actual ‘caring about’. However, accepting my objector’s suggestion seems to mean accepting that loving someone is really a series of discrete disconnected events separated by periods when the lover’s concentration is focussed elsewhere. It also seems to mean accepting if you love someone today there is no reason why you should love him tomorrow. Whatever my objector may believe love is not at all like this. One of the elements of love is persistence. We question whether a fickle lover really loves or understands the demands of love. If the process of actually loving cannot be sustained continuously over very long periods of time then it seems the demand for persistence can only be met by a lover having a disposition to ‘care about’ his beloved. It follows loving someone involves both being actually ‘caring about’ a beloved’s interests and having a disposition to ‘care about’ these interests.

In the light of the above discussion do I love my grandson any less because of his aspergers? Clearly my disposition to ‘care about’ what he cares about is the same as my disposition to ‘care about’ the things my other grandchildren care about. It follows in this sense of loving I do not love him less. Moreover, when I am actively loving him, ‘caring about’ his interests I become absorbed by this activity and I see no reason why my ‘caring about’, loving, him is of to a lesser degree. Nonetheless because some of his interests may make it harder for him to share these interests with me this might mean that I whilst I always have a disposition to love him that in practices I actively love him less often. This is a highly uncomfortable conclusion for me. However, if I accept it, and after some reflection I am inclined to do so, then I must make a greater effort to make it easier for him to share these interests with me.

1.    Frankfurt, H. (1988) The Importance of What We Care About. Cambridge University Press page 83.

2.   Frankfurt, H. (1999) Necessity, Volition, and Love. Cambridge University Press, page 135.