I’ve encountered medical people both as a patient and professionally as colleagues. By ‘medical people’, I mean doctors and nurses, but also medical scientists and consultants. I’ve worked with surgeons and clinicians in research contexts, but have also received care and treatment from GPs and specialists. It’s interesting to see to what extent the so-called ‘medical model’ really exists in medicine.
The medical model treats symptoms as signs of an inner physical disorder. If the symptoms are connected, then this can add up to a syndrome. In disability, this is a ‘problem’ that affects the individual, and only the individual. In other words, any disabling effects are a consequence of the disability itself, rather than any external circumstances.
The social model stands that on its head and proposes that society disables people by designing the world to suit a majority who are not themselves disabled. It should be the responsibility of society, rather than the individual disabled person, to reduce or remove barriers.
Autistic people, myself included, tend to favour the social model for a number of reasons. It resonates very well with our lived experience amongst non-autistic people who do not seem to understand us and who we in turn apparently do not understand. It situates the model outside 'disability', which can be a problematic term because it describes well the co-morbidities that often accompany autism, but not necessarily the autism itself. It is more accommodating of hidden disabilities. And so on.
My experiences of talking to medical people vary greatly and range across both the medical and social models. My GP, for example, is very accepting of my diagnosis and aware of the issues that arise from the social model. In fact, the very existence of this blog is at least partly down to her encouragement. She says that I have some kind of prominent position and should therefore become what she calls a “champion of autism”.
Others have been less sympathetic and in some cases quite dismissive of both the social model and my diagnosis. These conversations have been challenging but thought-provoking. The essence of the argument seems to be that the very idea of an autism diagnosis is meaningless without a set of recognisable physical symptoms. I like to compare my diagnosis of Ménière’s Disease (which is not really a disease, more a collection of symptoms) with the autism identification. In the former, the consultant was able to observe and measure a set of symptoms, most notably vertigo and severe hearing loss. The latter was a judgment call by psychologists based on interviews and other documentation.
To that extent I would agree with the medical model, inasmuch as the very idea of ‘diagnosis’ seems misapplied. I discussed this in previous posts. But of course this does not deny the social model, which is very real. And in the end my own knowledge of autism as lived experience confirms its reality. I don’t just feel autistic, I am autistic. The difference is an actual difference. The medical model does not go far enough if it relies solely on observable and measurable symptoms.
From a personal point of view, some of the discussions I have had have been hard to take. Sometimes, the medical colleagues are extremely dismissive, both of my diagnosis and of the psychologists who made the diagnosis. My evident ability to function well in an academic context is confusing. They know me as a Professor, and therefore high-ranking within academia. They compare that with their knowledge of autistic people who exhibit the kinds of ‘symptoms’ they would recognise: perhaps non-verbal or showing other obvious signs of ‘impairment’. One colleague tried to undermine me by declaring that “we are all human” and therefore that there can be no such thing as neurological difference.
At such times, I struggle to remain balanced and rational. This looks to me very much like a failure of the medical model and confirmation of the social model. It makes me feel disbelieved and attacked, coming as it does from an authoritative source. At the same time, I think this is not quite as straightforward as it might appear. In some respects, the medical/social opposition is itself an illusion. If I consider my tinnitus, for example, the doctors will always recognise its existence and debilitating effects, even though there is actually no way to measure it. And some organisations, such as the British Tinnitus Association, go well beyond a purely medical understanding of the condition.
The issue seems to be autism itself, whose recent history is, I think, quite problematic for both society and the medical profession. To some extent, it is a construct, resulting from a set of understandings that have evolved over several decades, as we know. As such, it is itself a socially-derived condition whose very existence is a challenge to medicine. Be that as it may, I can only speak from my own experience as an autistic individual. I know that it is real and I am amazed by how accurately the psychologists are able to pinpoint and describe my lived experience. Also, I relate to other autistic people in ways which I do not to the rest of the population.