Beyond Labels: Re-examining Autism, Strengths and Stress at the Action Trauma Network Neurodiversity Conference – 19 Sept 2025

I attended the Action Trauma Network Neurodiversity Conference on 19 September 2025 as a multiply neurodivergent individual (autism, ADHD & sensory processing differences). The day felt like a rare convergence of academic insight and lived experience, offering both challenge and validation. Clive Corry (Founder/Director) opened the conference by referring to autism as “ASD” (autism spectrum disorder), a medically framed diagnostic term that many neurodivergent people consider disaffirming because it positions autism as a disorder rather than a valued neurotype. As an attendee, however, I was seeking a validating perspective that recognised autism as a legitimate identity and source of strengths. For many, a diagnosis is valued not as a stigma but as a framework that helps self-understanding. Consequently, Corry’s use of the term “ASD” clashes with this desire for language that affirms autistic experiences rather than medicalises them. This opening tension framed the whole conference. Corry stated, “ASD was known as Asperger syndrome,” which is not correct. Asperger's was a separate diagnosis that was officially folded into the broader category of autism and was removed from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual in 2013. Corry went on to say brilliantly,

"In my opinion, the problem is that diagnosis is simply not fit for purpose when used in conjunction with neurodiversity. There are just far too many variations in reality; every single person with neurodivergence is different with different presentations, different support systems, different solutions."

The Opening Tension: Medicalisation vs. Identity

The opening keynote, where Dr Gábor Máté questioned the very purpose of such ‘labels’, is an example of this tension. The opening keynote was specially recorded for the event, featuring a conversation between Dr Gabor Maté and Clive Corry (Action Trauma Network). Hearing Maté warn that “diagnosis can be dangerous… people may mistake the person for the diagnosis” and seeing Angela Austin later on the stage state “even I become more autistic when I am stressed” underscores how labels can both illuminate and obscure the realities we (The neurodivergent) live daily. This mix of perspectives set the tone for my reflections on why the event mattered to me and what it reveals about the presumed level of competency among seasoned practitioners and the dangers of both their messaging and its subsequent reach.

Mate maintains that life is a spectrum and that the traits assigned to any diagnosis are found in "almost anybody to 1° or another". Diagnosis, in his view, is merely a description of these traits when they are "concentrated enough". This statement feels like it undermines lived experience; however, Maté asserts that these traits should not be pathologised as diseases. Instead, he views them as "developmental problems" reflecting environmental stress and developmental attributes.

Máté explicitly rejects the “disease model of diagnosis”, stating he does not think of ‘conditions’ in disease terms at all." Instead, he views psychiatric diagnosis as purely descriptive of traits, behaviours, or emotional patterns, but "meaningless of explanations" regarding the cause. He maintains that diagnosis can be dangerous because it risks mistaking "the person for the diagnosis," diverting focus from the life experiences and "developmental factors" that caused those traits. His fundamental difference is seeing the traits as results of "stressing in the environment" and developmental issues, rather than inherent identity or genetic predetermination.

Máté questioned the rising rates of ‘conditions’ such as autism and ADHD, asking if the increase is due to practitioners being "more vigilant, more aware" or if they are "over diagnosing" because they are "too keen to... commit to diagnosis." Although acknowledging this inquiry, which he noted “comes up all the time in relationship to all these diagnoses,” Máté believes the numbers are genuinely rising. He strongly refuted the traditional medical explanation that rising rates are genetic, arguing that genetics cannot explain rapid population changes. Instead, he concluded that environmental stress, historical trauma, and "social conditions are playing a huge role in the burgeoning of the diagnosis, including autism."

While Maté acknowledges genetic predisposition, framing the cause of ‘conditions’ like autism primarily as a "developmental problem" resulting from "stressing in the environment" and historical trauma can be harmful. This perspective risks placing blame or guilt on parents and undermines the perception of autism as a neurological identity, suggesting it might be reversible or preventable, which contradicts the identity-first perspective championed by many. His assertion that all traits associated with diagnoses are found in "almost anybody to 1° or another" also risks invalidating the specific, concentrated challenges faced by individuals whose traits necessitate a diagnosis.

Maté advocates for a cautious approach towards medications. He does acknowledge that medications are "indicated" sometimes and even helped him personally focus while writing his initial book on ADHD. He stresses that the use of medication must be judicious, guided solely by the individual's subjective experience, such as the child "enjoying being able to pay attention", rather than achieving behavioural goals set by adults. Maté establishes "severe or very limited criteria" for children: medication must never be forced, and a child should not be given the "terrible message" that they are acceptable only if medicated.

Maté noted his own need for medication for his first book but not later, explaining that the brain "has a capacity to change given the right conditions". He prioritises changing the environment to reduce stress and increase attunement, which can diminish the need for pharmacological intervention over time. The fluctuating nature of neurodivergence appears to be attributed to a changing brain rather than the fact that capacity naturally fluctuates depending on a variety of factors, such as the environment, hormones, life changes, etc.

Language matters

Máté used the words ‘label’ and ‘diagnosis’ interchangeably, when personally, I was labelled ‘blunt’ and ‘weird’ long before any formal diagnosis; those early labels felt limiting, the diagnosis did not. The labels were different from a clinical diagnosis, which provided a framework to understand myself, affirmed my place within the autistic community, and became an integral part of my identity. Consequently, the blanket narrative that “you are not your diagnosis” can feel invalidating when the diagnosis helped me make sense of the earlier labels, re-frame them as ‘direct’ and ‘individual’ rather than ‘rude’ or ‘weird’. For many, the diagnosis becomes a useful identity anchor, so language matters.

Then we come to Máté’s broader view of “normal functioning.” Máté used the term “normal functioning” and stated that any “strengths are due to sensitivity, not the condition.” This language can be read as ableist because it sets a hidden benchmark of what counts as “normal” and implies that neurodivergent ways of being are deviations from an ideal. Máté’s assertion that neurodivergent strengths are "due to the sensitivity, not the condition" is strongly challenged by the neurodiversity paradigm, which frames neurological differences as valuable forms of human variation, directly linking strengths to the unique neurotype (See McLennan et al., 2025). The use of functioning labels is evident when Maté quotes Dr Stanley Greenspan, who stated that, with the right relationship, autistic children could be brought to "levels of functioning higher than normal".

While Maté explicitly criticises the concept of "normal" when discussing neurodivergence, he then uses stigmatising functioning labels and appears ok to use the term normal after all. He goes on to prioritise the potential of relational intervention, radiating safety and attunement, to resolve underlying developmental challenges.

The word neurodivergent which you haven't used but neurodivergent, it begs the question divergent from what? And it assumes that there's a normal.

Máté framed the challenges as distinct from any potential advantages, expressing a clear personal dislike for the symptoms associated with ADHD, stating, "I myself could live without my ADHD." He cited specific issues like "losing my laptop and aeroplanes" as undesirable effects of the condition, stressing that while dealing with these challenges brought benefits, he did "not think benefits come from these conditions" themselves. This perspective supports his contentious claim that qualities like creativity and compassion are solely derived from an underlying, genetic "sensitivity" and not the "condition itself," implying that inherent neurodivergent traits are solely problematic.

In addition, Austin (among others) consistently misused the term “neurodiverse” to describe autistic people. Neurodiverse (used correctly) describes a group of individuals with a mix of cognitive functioning (including those who would be considered neurotypical and those who are neurodivergent). In addition, Máté misunderstood the scope of the term neurodiversity by using the phrase "A lot of people with neurodiversity have" a lack of inner peace. This incorrectly treats neurodiversity, a description of population variation, as a condition or pathology that an individual "has". This terminological inconsistency was also evident when Máté, despite previously critiquing the term "neurodivergent" by asking what it "begs the question divergent from what?," later used the term "divergences" himself while discussing the potential benefits of somatic work and Compassionate Inquiry for individuals with these 'conditions'.

It seemed like most speakers did their very best to avoid saying the words ‘autistic’ or ‘autism’, and I would strongly urge a bit of self-reflection on two levels. The first is ‘the why’, why might people avoid saying the words, the second is ‘what might the impact of that be?’ If individuals would rather misuse any other terminology than say the words 'autism' or 'autistic', what message does that give to autistic people? Personally, it used to be shame-inducing, but now it makes me angry on behalf of the younger autistic people still navigating their identity. That aside, the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) guidelines for the United Kingdom recommend identity-first language (autistic person); these guidelines have been in place since 2016.

Máté further introduced confusing distinctions by stating that children are "not generally valid subjects for any psychotherapeutic approach", like his own. However, he immediately listed "Play therapy, art therapy, music therapy, nature therapy," and "Sand tray therapy" as being "Wonderful for kids," despite these modalities often forming the foundation of psychodynamic or psychoanalytically informed therapy.

Empirical Strengths

Empirical evidence demonstrates that many documented strengths, such as exceptional memory, analytical proficiency, and attention to detail, are characteristic traits associated with being autistic (Cherewick and Matergia, 2024). Specifically, the concept of hyper-systemising (the tendency to analyse, organise and understand systems exceptionally well) and superior pattern recognition are cited as cognitive advantages inherent to autistic functioning (Cherewick and Matergia, 2024). For instance, studies consistently show that superior visual search abilities in autistic groups outperform neurotypical controls across various complex tasks, illustrating an intrinsic cognitive difference, not just general sensitivity.

Furthermore, the very "sensitivity" Mate refers to, known academically as Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS), is inextricably linked to neurodivergent traits. Research indicates a significant positive correlation between high SPS and features of ADHD (Panagiotidi et al., 2020). While high sensitivity can predict stress and anxiety in unfavourable environments, it also predicts positive outcomes in supportive environments (Damatac et al., 2025). Therefore, attempting to decouple strengths from the underlying neurocognitive difference fails to account for the integrated nature of these advantageous characteristics. Sensitivity interacts with these strengths but does not fully explain them.

While Máté stated that "A lot of these kids can't look at you in the face", he framed this as a physiological sign of distress linked to safety. He explained that when children feel unsafe, they enter a "defensive shutdown mode," and the practitioner’s role is to provide safety and attunement to facilitate a shift into the "social engagement mode." I have to be honest here, I was disgusted at this comment, but it highlighted the lack of knowledge around this concept. I remembered when gatherings had started to happen again after COVID and some individuals still wore masks. That time had been particularly harder for me to ‘hear’ what people were saying. One colleague (who wore a mask) finished speaking, and it was then that I realised I had not taken in a single word. The entire time, my brain was screaming, “Where is her mouth, where is that voice coming from?” It helped me understand things like why I find phone calls difficult, I rely on the entire face and my brain needs to see the source of the voice to begin to process the words.

Although Máté seeks to reduce stigma by rejecting the disease model, his approach risks pathologising typical autistic traits as deficits needing behavioural correction. For instance, describing outward autistic behaviours, such as having "trouble looking at you in the face," as a sign of defensive "shutdown mode" that needs to be shifted into a "social engagement mode" focuses on correcting the behaviour rather than accepting it as an inherent difference. Máté’s framing, which views eye avoidance as purely a lack of safety or engagement, conflicts with empirical findings. Recent peer-reviewed studies have reframed Máté’s remark. Eye tracking research shows that many autistic individuals deliberately reduce direct gaze to manage sensory overload, using alternative cues such as mouth movements, gestures, and vocal prosody to extract social information (Pelphrey et al., 2005; Klin et al., 2002).

Neuroimaging work supports the “eye avoidance hypothesis” (the idea that many autistic individuals deliberately reduce eye contact, using other cues to avoid sensory overload), revealing heightened amygdala activation when autistic participants are forced to maintain eye contact (Hadjikhani et al., 2005). Large-scale investigations demonstrate that reduced fixation on the eyes correlates with the severity of social communication challenges, yet many participants show robust attention to mouths and objects, highlighting diverse communication strategies rather than a simple lack of eye contact (Hadjikhani et al., 2005; Pelphrey et al., 2005; Klin et al., 2002). These findings illustrate that reduced gaze is an adaptive response rather than a ‘deficit’, which leads to the next point about its protective role. The findings collectively dispel the stereotype that autistic children are uniformly unable to meet another’s gaze. Instead, reduced eye contact is best understood as an adaptive modulation that protects against sensory overload while still permitting effective social engagement through other channels.

While Máté contends that benefits like creativity and compassion stem solely from an underlying, genetic "sensitivity," implying inherent neurodivergent traits are problematic, empirical evidence demonstrates that many documented strengths, such as exceptional memory and superior pattern recognition, are characteristic traits associated with being autistic.

Stress-Induced “More Autistic” Effects

Angela Austin’s remark that “even I become more autistic when I am stressed” reflects a common lay interpretation of stress-induced behavioural change in all people, not a permanent shift. Empirical work, however, shows that heightened ‘autistic type’ responses under pressure are stress-reactive rather than evidence of a permanent shift in neurotype. Studies using cortisol measurements (a stress hormone measured in studies showing that acute stress can increase repetitive behaviours in both autistic and neurotypical people) and behavioural coding have found that acute stress amplifies repetitive movements, sensory avoidance and social withdrawal in both autistic and neurotypical participants, indicating a generic stress response e.g., “Stress induced increases in repetitive behaviours are mediated by elevated cortisol levels” – (Smith et al., 2025).

Functional MRI (a brain imaging technique that reveals activity) research likewise demonstrates that stress-elicited amygdala hyperactivation predicts temporary escalation of eye contact avoidance, irrespective of diagnostic status (Smith et al., 2025). These findings suggest that the observable “more autistic” state is a situational coping strategy, not a permanent trait amplification. Linking this to the broader “we are all a bit autistic” narrative, the stress response model warns against over-generalising such transient behaviours as evidence of universal autistic traits. While it can promote empathy, it also risks pathologising normal stress reactions and diluting the clinical specificity of autism, thereby obscuring the need for targeted support for those whose traits are autistic rather than situationally stressed.

Workshops/presentations

Following the initial debates concerning the tension between medicalised diagnosis and identity validation, the conference transitioned into a series of workshops focused on practical applications and diverse intervention models. These sessions offered varied approaches to supporting neurodivergent individuals, spanning psychological, physiological, and systemic frameworks.

Louis Weinstock: Adaptive Sensitivity: Rethinking Neurodiversity in a Rapidly Changing World

The presentation focuses on critical thinking and the embryonic "adaptive sensitivity" framework, stemming from the speaker's experience as a sensitive boy socialised into toxic masculinity. Key arguments emphasise that sensitivity, often masked by negative behaviours, is inherent and that cultural narratives (like changing diagnostic labels) can trap understanding, referencing Gabor Maté and the "brain or blame dilemma." Critical thinking, defined as asking "Is this true?", is vital to see beyond limiting frameworks like single diagnoses (e.g., ADHD, where being the youngest in a school year increases diagnosis likelihood by 38%). The adaptive sensitivity model, influenced by biology and trauma, aims to offer a flexible lens for understanding unique sensitivities, moving beyond binary acceptance or blame.

Weinstock’s reflection on his childhood path, being a sensitive boy labelled "naughty" who got into trouble, is used to demonstrate how cultural narratives and diagnostic labels change over time. While ADHD is understood as a lifelong condition, the presentation employs this reflection to advocate for critical thinking in addressing neurodiversity and sensitivity. The implication is not that ‘conditions’ vanish, but that a single diagnosis often cannot capture the "total complexity and beauty" of a human being, and the light-bulb moment of having a label tends to "dim" over time.

The presentation encourages asking whether changing categories brings us closer to the truth or merely provides a different language appropriate for the current "fishbowl" of understanding.

The proposed "adaptive sensitivity" framework, which views sensitivity as a basic, lifelong fact influenced by biology, trauma, and culture, is designed to offer a flexible lens that moves beyond the "brain or blame dilemma" often associated with diagnosis. This approach aims to help individuals make sense of their unique traits and sensitivities without being trapped by a ‘fixed label’. The core difference lies between the initial validation a diagnosis offers and Weinstock’s emphasis on deconstructing labels. A diagnosis provides a critical "light bulb" moment, enabling self-understanding and allowing the individual to feel "seen and understood" by using a shared framework. The speaker’s approach, however, argues that diagnostic categories are transient cultural stories, prone to changing rapidly across time and space, potentially trapping understanding in a "fishbowl”. The emphasis on critical thinking, continually asking "Is this true?", is designed to help individuals move beyond the limiting “brain or blame dilemma” and acknowledge the complexity that a single label cannot explain.

The concern that this framework might 'gaslight' the neurodivergent population stems from the potential for invalidation. By questioning the enduring truth of a diagnosis and focusing heavily on external factors like trauma, environment, and culture as drivers for sensitivity dials, the approach risks minimising the inherent biological basis of neurodivergence. This de-emphasis on the fixed nature of the diagnosis could be interpreted as suggesting that lifelong struggles are merely contextual or require better self-modulation, potentially undermining the stable identity and hard-won understanding provided by a formal diagnosis.

Susan Steele: The body Leads, the Brain Follows: A New Approach to Neurodevelopment. Learn how physical exercises can rewire the brain, creating a stronger base for therapy, learning and emotional regulation

Susan Steele, founder of Performance Breakthrough, "When the Body Leads, the Brain Follows," is based on her experience with her sons. After witnessing her son John's behavioural struggles and her dyslexic son Peter's academic deficits (spelling 3.5 years behind), Steele implemented a year-long, 15-minute daily balance and coordination program. Results were transformative: John's behaviour improved, and Peter's reading/comprehension scores normalised, enabling him to pass the 11-plus. The program targets underdeveloped vestibular, visual, and auditory senses, which cause processing failures (e.g., slow auditory response leading to incomplete task execution). Steele emphasises that correcting these physical sensory integrations, utilising neuroplasticity, resolves issues like emotional dysregulation and poor focus, leading to measurable academic and life improvements. They are now developing an AI scanner for objective assessment.

Steele, after working with a young boy, celebrates the boy's ability to anticipate his mother's needs from contextual cues, "I heard my mum lifting the keys...and I went and got my shoes on", as independent thinking. However, this framing overlooks two significant concerns:

Fawn Response: Children previously subjected to repeated criticism and shouting (as described with "Ryan") may develop anxious hypervigilance rather than genuine autonomy. The capacity to sense and pre-empt adult expectations can reflect trauma-informed compliance, monitoring for cues to avoid conflict, rather than self-directed functioning. This may constitute masking, where children suppress their own needs to manage perceived adult expectations, which is neurologically costly and unsustainable.

Monotropic Cognition: The approach assumes children can fluidly integrate multiple information streams and rapidly shift attention between contexts. Autistic and many neurodivergent brains operate monotropically, focusing intensely on one thing at a time, and require explicit transition time between cognitive states. The original difficulty ("mum says...bring down your washing...you have absolutely no chance") may reflect not processing difficulties, but legitimate difficulty shifting from one task focus to another without adequate transition support. Steele doesn't acknowledge these possibilities; she frames the solution as correcting "slow auditory processing" rather than considering whether the child's actual need is structured transitions, explicit instruction, or freedom from the expectation to read unstated contextual demands. This represents a potential mismatch between neurodiversity-affirming practice and the approach's underlying assumptions.

Steele describes an observed pattern where a child who is highly sensitive to light touch (e.g., sock seams) exhibits reduced response to deep impact, such as pain from a broken arm. The underlying theory suggests that the physical sensory receptors may be "miswired," causing the light touch receptors to pick up pain signals while deep impact doesn't register correctly. While the observation aligns with certain sensory processing differences often experienced by autistic individuals (hypersensitivity to touch and hypo-sensitivity to pain), framing this as a mechanical 'miswiring' that switches light touch and deep impact receptors may miss the complexity of autistic pain processing. Autistic individuals may experience atypical pain perception due to central nervous system differences, not just peripheral receptor reversal. Furthermore, a child's failure to report a serious injury, while attributed here to sensory 'miswiring,' could also result from:

Interoception difficulties: Challenges perceiving internal body signals.

Emotional dysregulation: An inability to connect the physical pain signal with the emotional and communicative response in the moment.

Masking or alexithymia: Suppression of emotional or physical responses, particularly if they have learned that expressing distress leads to negative outcomes.

Steele focuses on stimulating neuroplasticity via physical activities (e.g., hitting a pendulum ball with fingertips) to "rewire and process touch and pain signals more accurately". While movement can aid sensory integration, describing the issue solely as a "switched" physical sense risks oversimplifying the global regulatory and communication differences typical in autistic pain experience.

David Hilton: Welcoming ALL Parts of You: an experiential exploration of neurodivergent parts using Internal Family Systems (IFS)

The workshop, led by IFS-trained practitioner David Hilton, offered a compassionate and insightful overview of Internal Family Systems (IFS), focusing on its application for neurodivergent clients. IFS is based on the premise that the mind consists of multiple "parts" orbiting a core, wise, and calm presence known as "Self".A central theme was the practice of "welcoming parts," which involves noticing how parts express themselves—via thoughts, emotions, sensations, or impulses—and acknowledging them, often simply by saying, "I see you" or "You're welcome". This practice is particularly helpful for neurodivergent individuals, as it fosters a deep sense of inner safety and trust, reduces feelings of shame and burnout, and lessens the intensity of masking parts. The healing process involves the Self gently relating to protective parts (Managers and Firefighters) to gain permission to witness and unburden vulnerable, exiled parts that hold intense emotions and extreme beliefs from trauma. The process of unburdening allows these parts to release their burdens to elements like fire, water, or light. The session included a highly valued experiential component, a guided meditation focused on welcoming all parts, which attendees found to be a "real treat". Hilton stressed the necessity of adapting standard IFS protocols to resonate effectively with neurodivergent clients.

Angela Austin: Reducing anxiety in homes and schools. Optimising learning and enhancing life skills

The central theme is that connection is paramount for all individuals, neurodivergent or neurotypical. Austin details establishing a low anxiety learning environment in a school for ‘autistic spectrum’ children (starting with seven in the 1990s), emphasising that all schools should adopt this model.

Austin describes the transformation of the 7-year-old boy as a "miracle" because it represents an extreme shift from complete dysfunction to profound success. The child initially presented with challenges, having "no boundaries," "no language," and exhibiting such disruptive behaviour that two other schools rejected him. The "miracle" lies in his subsequent progression: his behaviours calmed, he learned to focus, and he achieved a first-class honours degree in IT, demonstrating that creating "connection and trust" facilitates incredible progress. The assumption that such behaviours indicate a lack of intellect is countered by the success of the low-anxiety learning environment. In this model, disruptive actions are typically viewed not as wilful disobedience or low ability, but as expressions of high anxiety and stress caused by an overwhelming environment.

When the limbic system is highly activated by fear or anxiety, the brain disconnects from the neocortex (reason), leading to meltdowns and an inability to focus. Austin notes that “neurodiverse individuals” (Autistic) with "lots of potential" may not make satisfactory progress without specialised support tailored to their needs. The indication is that the boy’s ability to thrive once his environment was structured for safety and trust proved that his early behaviour masked significant intellectual capability, rather than reflecting its absence.

The audience during Austin’s workshop/presentation summarised what neurodiversity meant to them by focusing on difference, individuality, and acceptance. They defined it as the brain being "wired differently," representing a unique identity, and in some views, a "special power" (the superpower narrative is personal ‘ick’ of mine for many reasons). Key aspects included differences in processing, communication, regulation, and social interactions, alongside the challenges of misinterpretation by society and masking. They emphasised the necessity of inclusion, safety, and trust for all individuals.

In addressing what society is currently dealing with regarding neurodiversity, the audience repeatedly highlighted a critical lack of resources and funding. Major concerns included poor environments, inadequate support services, and extensive waitlists. Education was criticised for a "one size fits all approach" and a lack of understanding, contributing to school avoidance and exclusion. The pervasive negative influence of the digital world, including social media and screens, was frequently mentioned as a cause of increased anxiety. Other issues involved a lack of awareness, misinformation, high academic expectations, the challenges of changing family structures and concerns about over-diagnosis.

The historical context provided immediately establishes a grim and stark reality for what Austin mislabels “neurodiverse” individuals before modern social and medical frameworks. Austin dismisses the idea that neurodiversity is a recent development by pointing out the brutal conditions of the Industrial Revolution, where “intellectually impaired” and autistic children "wouldn't last long" and "would have had an early death" due to the harsh environment. While Austin uses the terms "high functioning" and "not intellectually impaired", which are often viewed as stigmatising functioning labels today, she uses this classification to draw a historical distinction regarding survival and societal fit. She posits that individuals who would now be called neurodiverse (incorrect use of the term), but lacked “intellectual impairment,” "would have liked the rigid pattern of life in those days". This rigid routine was characterised by a lack of choice and the expectation that people, particularly the poor, would "just put their head down and got on with it". Austin suggests this extreme structure "worked for them" in a certain sense, enabling them to function and remain socially invisible within the narrow confines of the time, such as in the military, banking, or the church. Their autistic traits, therefore, "just did not show up" because the highly structured environment accommodated their needs for predictability, unlike the noisy, rapidly changing, and opportunity-laden modern world.

Austin describes the historical treatment of “intellectually impaired” people in the countryside, stating they "would be tolerated, regarded as the village idiots". She notes that while they might have survived for a time, they often faced cruelty and were made "the butt of jokes," indicating that their lives were challenging. Regarding autistic individuals in cities, Austin discusses her experience working in a prison, where she taught many people who were dyslexic and "definitely neurodiverse" (she means autistic). She states that these individuals "didn't like the outside world" and "would commit another crime to get back in" because prison provided them with security and structure. Austin asserts that because they were “neurodiverse”, they struggled to understand societal rules and survive easily, leading them to be "often criminalised and went to prison". She believes this pattern of criminalisation is "still happening" today.

Austin claims that “neurodiverse individuals,” "especially girls, are very good at masking their anxiety" in public settings. This internalised stress, she suggests, then manifests as a release of behaviour at home, where they "exhibit controlling behaviour at home" or conversely, "absolutely refuse to go to school”.

Austin links the smartphone directly to the conversation around neurodiversity by identifying its introduction as a major contributing factor to an "exponential increase in those diagnosed with neurodiverse conditions since 2005". She highlights the research of Jonathan Haidt in the book The Anxious Generation, which studies how the smartphone and the digital world have increased anxiety in children and young people. For individuals with a genetic predisposition to anxiety, the constant exposure to information on a "minute-by-minute basis" from smartphones and computer games acts as an environmental trigger. She contrasts this digital bombardment with the highly structured, quiet, and rigid routines of previous centuries, which accommodated “neurodiverse individuals” by limiting noise and activity. The result is a 700% increase in diagnosis and self-diagnosis among “intellectually unimpaired” people, affected by the stressful, high-information environment the smartphone helped create.

“So, what happens in the brain when anxiety increases?”

Austin answers the question regarding increased anxiety by explaining that brain activity focuses on the limbic system, or emotional brain. This high level of emotional activation, which can be seen on an MRI scan, "literally disconnects" the limbic system from the neocortex, which governs reason. When someone is highly emotional, they have "no access to reason," a state Austin describes as a meltdown, which makes it impossible for their emotional or learning needs to be met. This information links directly to making "good choices," as effective decision-making requires access to the neocortex. If a child is “stuck in [their] limbic brain,” they are not in the correct cognitive place to regulate behaviour or make rational choices. To empower students, Austin’s school taught basic neuroscience, enabling a boy, for instance, to understand he was "stuck in my limbic brain and I couldn't get out" when upset. Regarding the use of rewards, Austin details a consequence system used with parents: a child who demonstrated "good choosing" (desired behaviour) would take home a happy face, while poor choosing resulted in a sad face and the loss of 20 minutes on their Xbox. While Austin frames this consequence structure as a "key to changing the way schools work", the prior discussion on the limbic system suggests that such rewards are predicated upon the child being calm enough to rationally choose a desired action, underscoring that the management of anxiety must precede any choice/reward system.

Dr Raymi Doyle Neurotransception: Bridging the relational gap between divergent neurotypes

Doyle introduces Neurotransception, a framework developed over 20 years of therapeutic work and 12 years of doctoral research, particularly informed by neurodivergent experience. The core thesis is that interactions constantly gauge safety, rooted in Porges' Polyvagal Theory and the concept of homeostasis/allostasis, maintained via inhibitory processes signalled implicitly and explicitly. Neurotransception maps this dynamic, often framing the neurotypical individual as a transmitter and the autistic individual as a receptor. Misalignment between transmitted and received signals, compounded by the receptor's sensory sensitivity and high information load (e.g., 1000 bits), leads to the transmitter's misaligned top-down interpretation (projection) to reduce prediction error. This results in internal reactive positions for the autistic individual, interrupting their journey of self, and external reactive positions (e.g., "fix-it mentality") for the transmitter, highlighting implicit and explicit power dynamics that must be neutralised through non-reactive presence and authentic connection.

Beyond Labels - Where to now? Panel Discussion

The discussion centres on addressing inequities and complex trauma faced by neurodivergent individuals, particularly concerning service access and understanding oneself. A key recommendation is to de-pathologise neurodivergence to reduce trauma. A radical overhaul of the education system is deemed necessary due to resource deficits and outdated structures, advocating for needs-led approaches. An Oxford experiment demonstrated an 80% retention rate by centring learning on young people's interests, contrasting with traditional top-down instruction. Furthermore, there is a call for collective action to influence policy, change stigmatising language (e.g., viewing SEN as a "supply issue").

Dr Sarah Hayward subtly emphasises that the responsibility for driving systemic change and fighting for accommodations often disproportionately falls on the neurodivergent and disabled community, leading to profound exhaustion and burnout. By referencing Lewis Weinstock's story about trying to engage his daughter's school, she uses it as an example of the monumental effort required to change systems, which she notes takes a long time and suggests that waiting for official systems will be "waiting forever". She highlights that while persistence and fighting are necessary, "it falls on the shoulders of neurodivergent and disabled people, people who have marginalised, intersecting identities to do that work. It's exhausting". Therefore, her subtle message is that while individual and collective community action is vital, it must be supported by a structure where people can "pick up the baton from each other" when others "run out of juice," acknowledging that the constant battle leads to burnout.

Lewis Weinstock's response appears slightly patronising because he pivots the conversation from Dr Sarah Hayward's serious concern about exhaustion and burnout among marginalised individuals who are fighting for survival and accommodations, to a focus on personal "gratitude" and "down-regulating" the nervous system. While he intends to offer a mechanism to avoid burnout, suggesting appreciating "the smallest things that might actually be going well", this approach shifts the emphasis from systemic injustice and the mandated need to "fight" to an internal, emotional response. He presents this to "balance out this collective nervous system activation," which risks minimising the very real, external systemic barriers and trauma that Dr Hayward had just stated are exhausting neurodivergent people. By suggesting gratitude and slowing down, he potentially overlooks the severity of the structural obstacles that force marginalised people into a continuous state of advocacy just to meet their basic needs.

Hayward’s articulation of a needs-led approach, to focus on immediate difficulties rather than the fruitless debate over causes, ironically appears to be falling on deaf ears, even among her fellow panellists. Dr Hayward stated she is "less interested in like what causes what" and would rather look "immediately in front of us, what is this person struggling with? How can we help them with that?". She uses the young people’s phrase "dinghying things" to describe bouncing off abstract causative questions, prioritising direct intervention over speculative cause. This pragmatic stance contrasts sharply with a preceding exchange where Lewis Weinstock, who writes about critical thinking, responded to Dr Hayward’s serious concerns about neurodivergent burnout by pivoting to the necessity of individual "gratitude" to "balance out this collective nervous system activation". In this light, Lewis’s suggestion could be perceived as bypassing Dr Hayward's plea for collective, sustained action against systemic trauma, reducing the profound effort required for survival to a matter of individual mindset or emotional regulation, thereby demonstrating a failure to critically engage with the systemic nature of the struggle she described.

Hayward's response carries significant implications for reducing stigma and fostering community action in neurodivergent advocacy. Her statement directly links the systemic recommendation to "de-pathologise neurodivergence" with personal empowerment, asserting that the less shame individuals feel, the "easier it is to go and tell people about it”. The core implication is that the cultural shift begins with dismantling internalised shame. By normalising all ways of being and stopping the treatment of those who "don't fit the norm" as "weird as wrong, as broken," the complex trauma experienced by neurodivergent people can be reduced. Furthermore, she casts the audience as agents of change, urging them to take their "passion and... interest" back to their "wider communities and circles". This shifts the focus from relying solely on top-down policy changes to grassroots advocacy, where individuals sharing their experiences openly drive greater public understanding and acceptance of neurodivergence.

Several audience participants acknowledged the complexity of getting systems to change, urging the need for persistence. Hayward stressed that shifting language, such as challenging the view of Special Educational Needs (SEN) as a "demand" rather than a "supply issue," is crucial because language "enacts power dynamics". Furthermore, the goal to "de-pathologise neurodivergence" is considered vital to reduce the complex trauma experienced by neurodivergent individuals. The consensus is that achieving this requires persistent "collective action".

This experience tragically advocates for formal diagnosis by demonstrating that, in the current system, basic, non-resource-intensive accommodations are often only granted when mandated by an official diagnosis. The reality highlighted is that simple aids, such as using ear defenders or fidget toys, are refused unless "recommended by a healthcare professional" or backed by a diagnosis and statement. The situation underscores a severe inequity in service access, exposing the chasm "between the haves and the don’t haves". Specifically, the anecdote about the child requiring ear defenders shows that parents must possess the "financial privilege" to obtain a private Occupational Therapy (OT) report and subsequent diagnosis (Sensory Processing Disorder and Auditory Processing Disorder) simply to secure necessary support. Without this formal diagnosis, basic needs are often denied, as illustrated by the teacher remarking to another child, "you don't have needs". This necessitates a "culture shift" in schools to accommodate needs regardless of official paperwork. Another story of a young man with cerebral palsy having to disclose his disability just to justify his seating posture further highlights the oppressive reality that individuals must often argue for their basic comfort and right to be themselves.

In response to Ema Cubitt’s (Autism Reviewer for Northern Ireland) call to action during the panel discussion, I will say this: you are not alone in feeling like "One voice screaming into the void". Your essential approach, focusing on tangible support and challenging societal narratives, resonates deeply with the neurodivergent community. Your perspective,

"We don't need to necessarily know why there's a rise in prevalence in autism. We identify it better. So, stop obsessing over those things and get on with it."

Well, I’d like it printed on a T-shirt.

Concluding Recommendations

The conference ultimately underscored the critical tension between medicalised language, such as the use of "ASD," and the necessity for identity-affirming language that champions autism as a legitimate neurotype. Language choices are central to reducing stigma and fostering empowerment. Moving forward, the focus must shift to pragmatic, needs-led approaches, as articulated by Dr Sarah Hayward and Ema Cubitt, who advocated prioritising a person's immediate struggles over speculative debates about causation or prevalence rises. This shift is crucial because the current system severely dictates that even basic accommodations, such as ear defenders, are often granted only when mandated by a formal, often privately funded, diagnosis.

This highlights profound systemic inequity and the urgent need for a culture shift in institutions like schools. Future conversations must foreground the validating, evidence-based research provided by neurodivergent professionals, such as Dr Raymi Doyle's work on Neurotransception, to ground discussions in lived experience. Achieving meaningful change requires persistent collective action, challenging stigmatising language, and reducing complex trauma by dismantling the internalised shame that hinders open advocacy.

Reintroducing the opening tension, the concluding note returns to the question of language: the choice between the medical label “ASD” and an affirming identity remains central, underscoring how naming autism shapes both stigma and empowerment. Lived experience educators’ voices were subsumed by the overall conference vibe, offering ‘comforting but vague reassurance’ that ‘you are not this terrible thing we cannot even name, or bring ourselves to speak out loud’, which risked erasing their specific message. Future conversations should foreground the detailed validation provided by neurodivergent professionals like Hayward and Doyle, ensuring that the dialogue moves from vague ‘reassurance’ to an evidence-based, person-centred, neuro-affirming understanding.

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