Another Spectrum

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Casebook of Harm: A Civic Listening Project

The Quiet Voice of Lived Experience

This casebook does not shout. It does not accuse. It listens.

Each entry in this collection bears witness to harm — not as a ledger of blame, but as a quiet archive of lived experience. These are moments where a neurotypical worldview collided with neurodivergent reality, and the result was not understanding, but injury. The harm was not always loud. Sometimes it came in the form of misread words, misunderstood silence, or a system that failed to see a person at all.

I offer these cases not to condemn, but to invite reflection. Each story is a door. Each theme — misinterpreted communication, systemic dehumanisation, criminalised compulsion — is a lens through which we might begin to see differently. And each reflection is a call to civic empathy: to listen more carefully, to respond more humanely, to build systems that recognise rather than reshape.

Though this casebook centres autistic and neurodivergent voices, its invitation is broader. Listening as civic action is essential if we are to create a more equitable world — and that must be true for all voices, not just ours. To listen is not to agree. It is to recognise. And recognition is the beginning of justice.

Let us begin.

Themes of Harm

Before we open the casebook, it helps to understand the patterns that emerge across its pages. These are not rigid categories, but recurring themes — ways in which harm has taken shape when neurodivergent lives are misread, misframed, or dismissed. Some cases reflect more than one theme. That complexity is part of the harm.

Each theme is offered here not as a judgement, but as a lens. A way of seeing what might otherwise be missed.

Misinterpreted Communication

Autistic people often communicate in ways that differ from neurotypical norms — through repetition, silence, scripting, or unexpected phrasing. These differences are not errors. They are expressions.

Yet in moments of crisis or confusion, such communication is too often misread as threat, guilt, or defiance. A repeated phrase becomes a confession. A pause becomes resistance. A meltdown becomes violence.

This theme explores how misunderstanding language can lead to misunderstanding intent — and how that misreading can become the basis for punishment.

Systemic Dehumanisation

Some harms are not personal. They are structural. They arise from systems — legal, medical, educational — that fail to recognise autistic people as full citizens, full humans.

This theme includes policies that treat autistic people as burdens, practices that exclude or isolate, and public narratives that erase dignity. It asks: what does it mean to be recognised? And what happens when recognition is withheld?

Criminalised Compulsion

Autistic people may have strong interests, routines, or sensory fixations. These are not crimes. They are part of how we navigate the world.

But when these behaviours are misunderstood — especially in public or high-stress environments — they can be treated as suspicious, disruptive, or unlawful. A compulsion becomes a theft. A routine becomes trespass.

This theme explores how the justice system can criminalise difference, mistaking need for intent.

Caregiver-Centred Narratives

Caregivers of disabled people often face real challenges. But when public narratives focus solely on caregiver suffering, they can eclipse the humanity of the person being cared for.

This theme examines how stories of harm sometimes centre the caregiver as victim, while the disabled person is framed as the cause — or worse, as expendable. It asks us to consider whose story is being told, and whose is being silenced.

Punitive Response to Distress

Autistic meltdowns are not tantrums. They are expressions of overwhelm — often triggered by sensory overload, emotional stress, or sudden change.

Yet in many cases, distress is met not with support, but with force. Police are called. Weapons are drawn. The person in crisis is treated as a threat, not as someone in need.

This theme explores how systems respond to neurodivergent distress, and what it might look like to respond with care instead of punishment.

Institutional Endorsement of Harm

Some practices are not just tolerated — they are legitimised. They are upheld by courts, endorsed by medical authorities, or protected by policy.

This theme includes cases where harm is not only allowed, but defended. Electric shock “therapy”. Isolation as treatment. Legal rulings that override human rights.

It asks: when institutions endorse harm, how do we resist? And how do we listen to those who have survived?

Case 1: Cornelius Smith-Voorkamp

What Happened

In the days following the devastating Christchurch earthquake of February 2011, Cornelius Smith-Voorkamp — a 25-year-old autistic man with a deep interest in electrical fittings — was arrested for entering a damaged home and removing two lightbulbs and an antique light fitting. The house was slated for demolition. He was charged with burglary and possession of burglary tools.

The media quickly labelled him the “face of looting.” At the time, his was reportedly the only looting charge laid in the immediate aftermath of the earthquake — a period marked more by community solidarity than by widespread theft.

Smith-Voorkamp’s family and advocates explained that he had a compulsion to collect electrical fittings, a behaviour linked to his autism. He had no history of violence or criminal intent. After six months of legal proceedings, and following a second psychiatric report, the charges were dropped.

How Harm Occurred

This case sits at the intersection of Criminalised Compulsion and Systemic Dehumanisation.

  • Criminalised Compulsion: Cornelius’s behaviour — entering a damaged home to collect light fittings — was not an act of malice or opportunism. It was a manifestation of a long-standing autistic interest. But the justice system lacked the framework to distinguish between compulsion and criminality, treating his actions as burglary rather than a neurodivergent expression of need.
  • Systemic Dehumanisation: The media portrayal of Cornelius as a looter — and the initial police response — reflected a broader failure to see him as a person with context, history, and vulnerability. His autism was not initially considered relevant. The system responded to a perceived offence, not to a human being.

Reflection

He loved light fittings. Not looting. Just light. In a city broken by quake, he sought brightness. But the system saw only a crime scene, not a compulsion. A label, not a life.

Case 2: Matthew Rushin

What Happened

In January 2019, Matthew Rushin, a 21-year-old Black autistic man from Virginia Beach, was involved in a three-car crash during stormy nighttime conditions. Disoriented and overwhelmed, he crossed the median and collided with another vehicle. Two people were injured, but no lives were lost.

Matthew’s mother and supporters acknowledged that a serious driving mistake had occurred. They did not oppose the idea of an appropriate charge — one that recognised the harm caused while also taking into account his autism, traumatic brain injury, and mental health history. But instead, Matthew was charged with attempted second-degree murder and sentenced to 50 years in prison, later reduced to 10 years through a plea deal.

During police questioning, an officer asked, “Why did you try to kill them?” — and Matthew echoed the phrase, saying, “I tried to kill them.” This repetition was interpreted as a confession. But Matthew often used echolalia — a common autistic trait where individuals repeat words or phrases without intending their literal meaning.

His mother, Lavern Rushin, led a tireless public campaign to raise awareness of the injustice. Advocates pointed to the failure of the justice system to understand neurodivergent communication, and to the racial bias that may have influenced the severity of the charges. In 2020, after widespread media coverage and public pressure, Virginia Governor Ralph Northam granted Matthew a conditional pardon. He was released from prison.

How Harm Occurred

This case reflects Misinterpreted Communication, Systemic Dehumanisation, Punitive Response to Distress, and an Inappropriate Institutional Response.

  • Misinterpreted Communication: Matthew’s use of echolalia — repeating a question under stress — was treated as a literal confession. The justice system failed to recognise this as a common autistic communication pattern, especially in moments of fear or confusion.
  • Systemic Dehumanisation: Matthew’s neurodivergence, brain injury, and PTSD were not meaningfully considered. He was processed as a threat rather than a young man in crisis. His identity as a Black autistic person further shaped how he was perceived and treated.
  • Punitive Response to Distress: The crash was not premeditated violence, but a moment of disorientation and emotional overwhelm. Rather than receiving medical or psychological support, Matthew was met with the full force of the criminal justice system.
  • Inappropriate Institutional Response: While accountability for harm is important, the charge of attempted second-degree murder was grossly disproportionate. It ignored context, intent, and disability. A more appropriate charge — one that acknowledged the incident without erasing Matthew’s humanity — was never considered.

Reflection

A phrase repeated is not a confession. A driving mistake is not a motive. A young man in crisis is not a monster. Justice does not mean ignoring harm — it means responding with understanding. Let us listen again — not to punish, but to recognise.

Case 3: Osime Brown

What Happened

In 2016, Osime Brown, a Black autistic teenager living in the United Kingdom, was convicted of robbery and sentenced to five years in prison. The incident involved a stolen mobile phone, but witnesses stated that Osime had tried to stop the theft, not participate in it. He was 16 at the time, with a diagnosis of autism and learning disabilities.

While serving his sentence, Osime experienced severe distress. He self-harmed, was placed in solitary confinement, and his mental health deteriorated. Upon release, the UK Home Office sought to deport him to Jamaica — a country he had left at age four and where he had no family, support, or access to care.

His mother, Joan Brown, led a public campaign to stop the deportation. Advocates argued that Osime’s conviction was unsafe, that his neurodivergence had been misunderstood, and that deportation would amount to a death sentence. The campaign gained widespread support, including from MPs, disability rights groups, and the public. In 2021, the Home Office cancelled the deportation order.

How Harm Occurred

This case reflects Systemic Dehumanisation, Misinterpreted Communication, and Institutional Endorsement of Harm.

  • Systemic Dehumanisation: Osime’s autism and learning disabilities were not adequately considered during his trial or imprisonment. He was treated as a criminal first, and as a vulnerable person second — if at all.
  • Misinterpreted Communication: Witnesses stated that Osime had tried to stop the theft, but his actions were misread. His neurodivergent behaviour may have been perceived as suspicious or noncompliant, contributing to his conviction.
  • Institutional Endorsement of Harm: The decision to deport Osime to a country he barely knew, without support or care, reflected a system willing to override human rights in the name of policy. It was not just a failure of empathy — it was a formal endorsement of harm.

Reflection

A boy tried to stop a theft. The system tried to erase him. Autism was not seen. Vulnerability was not heard. Deportation was not just a policy — it was a threat. Let us listen again — not to exile, but to embrace.

Case 4: Linden Cameron

What Happened

In September 2020, Linden Cameron, a 13-year-old autistic boy from Salt Lake City, Utah, was shot multiple times by police after his mother called 911 seeking help during a mental health crisis. Linden was experiencing a meltdown, triggered by the stress of returning to school after COVID-19 lockdowns. His mother, Golda Barton, requested a crisis intervention team, explaining that her son was unarmed and afraid.

When officers arrived, Linden ran. Within minutes, he was shot — sustaining injuries to his shoulder, ankles, intestines, and bladder. He survived, but the trauma was profound.

Despite public outcry and media coverage, no charges were filed against the officers involved. The official review concluded that the shooting was justified under existing protocols. Linden’s neurodivergence, age, and emotional state were not treated as mitigating factors.

How Harm Occurred

This case reflects Punitive Response to Distress, Systemic Dehumanisation, and Institutional Failure to Learn.

  • Punitive Response to Distress: Linden was not violent. He was overwhelmed. His meltdown was a call for help, not a threat. But the system responded with weapons, not care. The officers failed to recognise the nature of his distress — and responded with force.
  • Systemic Dehumanisation: Linden’s autism and age should have signalled vulnerability. Instead, he was treated as a suspect. The protocols in place did not account for neurodivergent behaviour, and the officers did not adapt their response accordingly.
  • Institutional Failure to Learn: Even after review, the system upheld the shooting as justified. No consequences followed. No reforms were mandated. The harm was not only in the moment — it was in the refusal to acknowledge that something had gone wrong.

Reflection

A boy ran. Not to attack, but to escape. He was afraid. He was overwhelmed. He was shot. And the system said: this was justified. Let us listen again — not to defend protocol, but to recognise pain.

Case 5: Ruby Knox

What Happened

In May 2016, Ruby Knox, a 20-year-old autistic woman, was killed by her mother, Donella Knox, in their home in Blenheim, Aotearoa New Zealand. Ruby was non-speaking, required full-time care, and had complex support needs. Her mother suffocated her while she slept.

Donella Knox later confessed to the killing, describing it as an act of desperation. She expressed feelings of isolation, exhaustion, and despair. The court sentenced her to four years in prison for manslaughter, citing her mental health and the pressures of caregiving as mitigating factors.

Public response was swift — and largely sympathetic. Letters to the editor, talkback radio, and social media were filled with expressions of sorrow for Donella. Many described her as a devoted mother pushed beyond her limits. Ruby, by contrast, was often absent from the narrative — or mentioned only as a burden. Her life, her personhood, and her right to exist were rarely centred.

Attempts to redirect the conversation — to ask what Ruby might have wanted, or what supports she was denied — were often met with discomfort, dismissal, or silence.

How Harm Occurred

This case reflects Caregiver-Centred Narrative, Systemic Dehumanisation, and Erasure of Disabled Personhood.

  • Caregiver-Centred Narrative: Public discourse overwhelmingly focused on Donella’s suffering. While caregiver distress is real and deserving of support, the framing of Ruby’s death as a tragic inevitability — rather than a preventable act of violence — erased Ruby’s own humanity.
  • Systemic Dehumanisation: Ruby’s life was not treated as grievable. Her needs were framed as intolerable. The lack of adequate disability support services in Aotearoa was acknowledged, but often as justification for her death rather than as a call to action.
  • Erasure of Disabled Personhood: Ruby was not remembered as a daughter, a young woman, or a person with preferences, joys, and rights. She was remembered as a problem. Her voice — already marginalised in life — was silenced in death.

Reflection

She was Ruby. Not a burden. Not a tragedy. A person. A daughter. A life. But when she was killed, the nation mourned her killer. And when we tried to speak her name with love, the wind howled louder. Let us listen again — not to justify, but to remember.

Case 6: Ole Ivar Lovaas

What Happened

“You see, you start pretty much from scratch when you work with an autistic child. You have a person in the physical sense — they have hair, a nose, and a mouth — but they are not people in the psychological sense.” — Ole Ivar Lovaas, 1974

This quote was not a slip of the tongue. It was a worldview — one that shaped decades of autism therapy and institutional practice.

Ole Ivar Lovaas was a clinical psychologist whose work in the 1960s and 70s laid the foundation for what became Applied Behaviour Analysis (ABA) — a widely used intervention for autistic children. His methods included electric shocks, slaps, and other forms of punishment to suppress behaviours deemed undesirable. He believed that autistic children could be made “indistinguishable from their peers” through intensive behavioural conditioning.

Lovaas’s approach was not fringe. It was celebrated. He received funding, academic recognition, and institutional support. His work influenced decades of autism therapy, particularly in the United States, and continues to shape ABA practices today — though many modern practitioners have distanced themselves from his more extreme methods.

How Harm Occurred

This case reflects Ideological Dehumanisation, Institutional Endorsement of Harm, and Erasure of Autistic Identity.

  • Ideological Dehumanisation: Lovaas’s framing of autistic children as lacking personhood was not just offensive — it was foundational. It shaped how institutions, therapists, and families understood autism: as something to be corrected, erased, or overcome.
  • Institutional Endorsement of Harm: His methods were not hidden. They were published, funded, and replicated. The harm was not only in the slaps or shocks — it was in the legitimacy granted to those acts by academia, medicine, and policy.
  • Erasure of Autistic Identity: Lovaas’s goal was not support, but transformation. Autistic traits were treated as obstacles to be removed. The idea that autistic people might have intrinsic worth — that difference could coexist with dignity — was absent.

Reflection

He said we were not people. And the world listened. Funded. Applauded. Replicated. The harm was not just in the methods — it was in the message. That we must be reshaped to be recognised. That our difference was a defect.

Case 7: Judge Rotenberg Center & the U.S. Supreme Court

What Happened

The Judge Rotenberg Center (JRC), a residential facility in Massachusetts, is the only institution in the United States known to use electric shock devices as a form of behavioural control on disabled children and adults. The device, known as the Graduated Electronic Decelerator (GED), delivers painful shocks to individuals for behaviours as varied as self-injury, noncompliance, or verbal outbursts.

The practice has long been condemned by disability rights advocates, medical professionals, and international human rights organisations. In 2010, the United Nations Special Rapporteur on Torture declared the use of the GED to be a form of torture. In 2020, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) issued a ban on the device, citing “unreasonable and substantial risk of illness or injury.”

But in 2021, the U.S. Court of Appeals overturned the ban, arguing that the FDA had overstepped its authority. The case was appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court, which in 2023 declined to hear the case — effectively allowing the use of electric shocks to continue.

The Court’s refusal was not a ruling on the merits of the practice. But its silence carried weight. In the American legal system, declining to hear a case can function as a tacit endorsement of the lower court’s decision. The highest court in the land had an opportunity to intervene — and chose not to.

How Harm Occurred

This case reflects Institutionalised Violence, Judicial Endorsement of Harm, and Cultural Legitimisation of Cruelty.

  • Institutionalised Violence: The Judge Rotenberg Center’s use of electric shocks is not a relic of the past — it is ongoing. The pain is real, the devices are real, and the children are real. The institution has defended its methods as necessary, even therapeutic.
  • Judicial Endorsement of Harm: The Supreme Court’s refusal to hear the case was not a neutral act. It allowed a lower court’s decision to stand — a decision that prioritised regulatory boundaries over human rights. In doing so, the Court became the final enabler of a practice widely condemned as torture.
  • Cultural Legitimisation of Cruelty: The JRC’s continued operation is not just a legal anomaly — it is a cultural mirror. It reflects a society willing to tolerate extreme measures against its most vulnerable members, so long as those measures are cloaked in the language of treatment.

Reflection

They shocked children. Not in secret, but with state approval. Not in the shadows, but in courtrooms. The pain was real. The silence was louder. The highest court did not speak — and so the current flowed on. Let us listen again — not to justify, but to end.

A Closing Reflection: Listening as Civic Action

These cases are not isolated. They are not rare. They are not historical.
They are ongoing. They are systemic. They are ours.

I did not set out to become an advocate. I set out to understand. To listen.
To ask why some lives were mourned and others were not.
In barbershops, in letters to the editor, in quiet conversations over coffee,
I heard sorrow for those who harmed — and silence for those who were harmed.

I tried to redirect the conversation. I tried to speak Ruby’s name.
But the silence was louder.

I could not unhear the void — the absence of empathy, the erasure of personhood,
the cultural quiet that follows institutional harm.

And so I began to listen differently. To speak differently.
Not to accuse, but to remember. Not to condemn, but to clarify.
Not to perfect, but to persist.

These cases are not just failures.
They are reflections of what we tolerate, what we forget, and what we choose to hear.

Listening is not passive.
It is civic action.
It is resistance.
It is repair.

He aha te mea nui o te ao?
He tāngata, he tāngata, he tāngata.

What is the most important thing in the world?
It is people, it is people, it is people.


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Pride Month: Celebrating Dignity, Not Hierarchy

Pride Month stands as a testament to the everyday acts of resistance—the deliberate choice to claim dignity in the face of historical marginalisation. It is not a declaration of superiority but an affirmation that every individual, regardless of their background or identity, deserves the right to exist authentically, deserving of respect and equality. In a society where many have had their worth questioned or diminished, these celebrations remind us that pride is rooted in reclaiming that inherent dignity.

Critics sometimes ask, “Why is there Black Pride but no White Pride? Why is there Gay Pride but no Straight Pride? Or Autistic Pride but no Allistic Pride?” Such questions miss the essence of what pride truly means. For communities that have been systemically oppressed, marginalised, or misunderstood, pride is less about creating a hierarchy and more about rectifying a long history of exclusion. Straight people, by contrast, have not been subjected to the same historical erasure or stigmatisation. Pride is not a statement of “us versus them”; it is a call to acknowledge that the battles fought by marginalised communities—whether for racial equality, LGBTQ+ rights, or the validation of neurodiverse identities—are a fight to affirm a dignity that has too often been denied.

At its core, Pride is about courageous authenticity. It is about rejecting the notion that one must mask one’s true self for the comfort of others. Instead, it celebrates the uniquely intricate patterns of identity that define us. When a community chooses to celebrate its pride, it does so not to elevate itself above others, but to counter a legacy of invalidation. The vibrant, diverse expressions during Pride Month—from parades to art to everyday conversations—are acts of liberation that remind us that our worth is never contingent on conforming to a prescribed mold.

Pride Month is also a powerful reminder of our interconnected struggles. The movements for LGBTQ+ rights, Black liberation, disability justice, and neurodiversity are intertwined narratives of resistance against a status quo that rarely values difference. By embracing the multiplicity of experiences and acknowledging the historical inequities that have shaped our society, we pave the way for a future where inclusion is the norm rather than the exception. This celebration is not designed with a hierarchy in mind but is a united declaration that every community, regardless of how society has defined them, earns its dignity by virtue of living authentically.

As we navigate Pride Month, let us move beyond simplistic comparisons and narrow definitions. Let us affirm that pride—and the call for dignity it encapsulates—is not reserved for those who have already been seen or heard. It is a rallying cry for those who, in every aspect of their identity, have had to fight for the simple recognition of their humanity. The conversation is not about “white” or “straight” pride because the need for such a statement has never been imposed on those groups. Instead, it is about celebrating those who have had to rise against the tide of oppression to say, “I am worthy.”

In this celebration of authenticity, pride becomes a transformative force—a means of demanding structural change, of dismantling systemic biases, and of creating a world where dignity is not a privilege but a right. As we honour the many shades of identity that colour our collective experience this Pride Month, let us commit to listening, learning, and standing together in the pursuit of justice for all.

Pride is, at its heart, a declaration of dignity. It is an acknowledgement that every struggle for recognition, every celebration of difference, is a stride toward a more just world. Let our Pride Month celebrations be a reminder that dignity knows no hierarchy—only humanity, resilience, and the unwavering desire to be seen exactly as we are.

June 18 is Autistic Pride Day—a celebration of authentic neurodivergence and inherent worth. An upcoming article challenges silencing and conformity, affirming that every autistic identity is a declaration of dignity. Stay tuned for Autistic Pride Day 2025: A Celebration of Worthiness, Not Superiority.


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Tamiefuna v The King: A Landmark Case for the Rule of Law

Why the Way Evidence is Gathered Matters

The principle of the rule of law is foundational to a just society. It ensures that everyone—including the state and its agencies—must act within the bounds of the law, preventing arbitrary power and safeguarding individual rights. The recent Supreme Court ruling in Mahia Tamiefuna v The King reinforces this principle, raising critical questions about police conduct, privacy rights, and the integrity of the justice system.

The Case: A Conviction Overturned Due to Unlawful Evidence

In 2021, Mahia Tamiefuna was convicted of aggravated robbery following a home invasion in West Auckland. According to the prosecution, he and an accomplice entered a residence, woke the occupant, and demanded valuables before fleeing with stolen items.

A key piece of evidence used in securing Tamiefuna’s conviction was a police photograph taken during a routine traffic stop. However, the photo was unlawfully obtained, as the officer had no clear justification to take it at that moment. The Supreme Court ultimately quashed Tamiefuna’s conviction, ruling that evidence collected in this manner could not be used against him.

This case highlights a fundamental question: Does the method of evidence collection matter, even if the accused is guilty? The answer, as confirmed by the court, is yes. The justice system depends not just on convicting offenders, but on ensuring that convictions are lawful and uphold the constitutional protections afforded to all citizens.

The Rule of Law vs. The Ends Justify the Means

At the heart of this ruling is a critical principle: the rule of law requires procedural fairness, even if the evidence appears damning. Legal scholars, such as those at the University of Auckland, emphasize that allowing unlawfully obtained evidence sets a dangerous precedent—one where police power could expand unchecked, eroding the very rights that law enforcement is meant to protect.

Similarly, commentary from The Conversation explores the broader implications. If the police routinely collect evidence through questionable means, it creates a slippery slope where legal safeguards weaken over time. The risk isn’t just wrongful convictions—it’s the erosion of public trust in the justice system itself.

Individual Rights Are Not Just for the Innocent

Tamiefuna’s case underscores an uncomfortable truth: the rule of law applies to everyone, including those accused of crimes. Some may argue that if an individual is guilty, why should technicalities matter? The answer is simple: the moment we justify bending rules for some, we set a precedent for bending them for all.

History shows that legal protections eroded in the name of security or efficiency often lead to broader injustice. Today’s unlawfully obtained evidence against one individual could pave the way for systemic breaches against others.

A Check on Police Power

This ruling also serves as a necessary check on police authority. While law enforcement plays a vital role in maintaining order, it must operate within the legal framework. If officers can collect evidence without proper justification, what stops this power from being misused? The Supreme Court’s decision makes it clear: police actions must be lawful, not just expedient.

Looking Ahead

The ruling in Tamiefuna v The King sets a precedent for future cases regarding police evidence-gathering practices. Law enforcement agencies may now face greater scrutiny over their methods, ensuring that procedural safeguards remain intact.

While the case itself may seem like a technicality to some, it represents something far greater: the enduring importance of due process, fairness, and the rule of law. Individual rights are not obstacles to justice—they are essential components of it. This ruling reaffirms that justice must be pursued lawfully or not at all.

Sources used in the preparation of this article:

Man has conviction quashed after ‘unlawful’ photo taken by police officer
Inadmissible evidence: why a routine traffic stop and police photo went all the way to the Supreme Court
Explaining Tamiefuna: Can Police Photograph the Public?
Mahia Tamiefuna v The King – Supreme Court Case Summary
Police in the wrong over unlawful photo
Supreme Court case raises questions of police powers, lawyer says


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Stop the National Autism Registry – Speak Up for Inclusion and Diversity

I’m not the only person concerned about RJK Jr’s proposed autism registry. A recent “Urgent Autism Registry Update” published by Resiliency Mental Health has raised alarm bells about plans to create a national autism registry in the United States. The article details how such a registry may not only threaten the privacy and rights of autistic individuals, but also undermine the values of diversity and inclusion that we cherish. It provides a letter template and a petition that invites everyone—especially autistic allies and those who value diversity—to take a stand against this proposal.

The update also draws attention to state-based autism registries, which are by no means a benign alternative. Much like a national registry, state systems pose serious risks to privacy and can equally be misused. In other words, the issues are not resolved by simply shifting the scope from national to state level. You can read more about these problematic state-level systems here.

There’s also a deeper concern: should a nationwide registry be implemented, it could lead to a significant drop in the number of people seeking an autism diagnosis due to concerns of individuals and care givers over privacy and human rights for autistic people. This decrease in diagnoses might then be touted as evidence that the registry has “worked,” masking serious issues instead of addressing them.

If you stand for diversity and the rights of every individual, please consider adding your name to the petition here, or send a letter or email to your legislators. Your voice is vital in ensuring that such policies are critically examined and that the human rights of autistic people are safeguarded.

Let’s work together to promote a more inclusive society where data and policies empower people, rather than marginalise them.


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A Step Backwards: Why NZ First’s Gender Bill Misses the Mark (2)

A follow up to my previous post A Step Backwards: Why NZ First’s Gender Bill Misses the Mark

A Global Law Today article critiques New Zealand First’s proposed gender definition bill, highlighting significant human rights concerns. The bill aims to redefine gender in law based solely on biological sex, which critics argue undermines the rights of transgender individuals and conflicts with New Zealand’s Human Rights Act 1993. The article also notes potential breaches of international human rights treaties, such as the Yogyakarta Principles, which recognise gender identity as a protected characteristic. Legal experts anticipate that the bill could face judicial review due to concerns that it conflicts with the New Zealand Bill of Rights Act 1990, particularly in terms of freedom from discrimination and the right to dignity.

The article further explores the political and public reaction, with Prime Minister Christopher Luxon dismissing the bill as “on another planet.” Critics view the proposal as a regressive step that risks importing polarising debates from overseas, which could disrupt New Zealand’s progressive approach to gender inclusivity. While the article provides a detailed analysis, it mistakenly refers to the “Fair Access to Bathrooms Bill,” a separate and now-withdrawn proposal by New Zealand First. This error underscores the need for clarity when discussing legislative initiatives with overlapping themes.

Read the full article: On April 22, 2025, the New Zealand First Party formally introduced a bill to Parliament aimed at redefining gender in law based on biological sex, triggering a wave of debate across legal, political, and human rights sectors.


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A Step Backwards: Why NZ First’s Gender Bill Misses the Mark

It is deeply disappointing that the New Zealand First Party would even contemplate introducing a bill to define “woman” in legislation. This proposal feels like a regressive step, especially in light of the unanimous passing of gender self-identification laws in the previous parliament—a moment that showcased New Zealand’s commitment to inclusivity and respect for diverse identities. Such a move not only undermines the progress we have made as a nation but also risks importing divisive debates from overseas that have no place in our unique and forward-thinking society.

The Spinoff opinion piece critiques New Zealand First’s proposal to define “woman” in legislation, arguing that it is both unnecessary and counterproductive. The article highlights New Zealand’s progressive stance on gender, particularly the unanimous passing of gender self-identification laws in the previous parliament. It contrasts this with the UK and US, where gender debates have often been polarising and politically charged. The author emphasises that New Zealand’s approach has fostered inclusivity and respect, making the proposed bill a step backwards.

The piece also delves into the legal implications, pointing out that defining “woman” in legislation could create confusion and conflict with existing laws. It argues that such a definition is redundant, as current legal frameworks already accommodate gender diversity without the need for rigid categorisation. The author warns that introducing this bill could undermine the progress made in recognising and respecting diverse gender identities, potentially alienating marginalised communities.

Finally, the article critiques the motivations behind the bill, suggesting it is a political manoeuvre rather than a genuine attempt to address legal or social issues. It calls on New Zealanders to reject this divisive approach and continue championing the country’s unique and inclusive perspective on gender. The author concludes by urging political leaders to focus on policies that unite rather than divide, reinforcing New Zealand’s reputation as a leader in progressive social change.

Read the full article: NZ First wants to copy the UK in defining ‘woman’. It makes no legal or human sense


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Musical Monday (2025/03/10) – I Am

Many of the songs I present in Musical Monday posts hold significant meaning to me or have moved me in ways I wouldn’t otherwise experience. And “I Am”, sung by Stan Walker, stands out as one of those special songs.

According to Stan Walker, “‘I AM‘ is my response to Ava DuVernay’s film ‘Origin‘. It is about the reclamation, reconciliation, and reconnection to our identity, our language, and the origins of who we are and where we come from. By knowing who we are, we are then able to know where we are going. This is how we unlock our greatest power. I AM is taking back the power and giving it back to the people.“

Stan Walker’s words, I feel, apply not only to ethnic minorities but to all forms of identity in all their glorious diversity. It took me 60 years before I could begin to know who I am: I’m autistic—not a faulty neurotypical person, not something to be ashamed of. I’m not a set of deficits in need of repairing but someone who has a unique way of experiencing and responding to my environment. My uniqueness can provide insights that others may not have access to. Knowing who I am has allowed me to recognise the value of diversity—the richness and beauty it brings to humanity. More importantly, it has given me the power to speak for diversity and challenge diversiphobia wherever I see it. You might say that “I Am” has become my anthem, rallying me to speak up when I might otherwise prefer to remain in the shadows. If I have any regrets about discovering who I really am so late in life, it’s the realisation that I have so little time to make up for lost time. If I had discovered that I’m autistic at 30 or 40 when the mind and body were at their peak, instead of at 60, how much more effective I might have been.

Kate Manne has said that most misogynistic behaviour is about hostility toward women who violate patriarchal norms and expectations, who aren’t serving male interests in the ways they’re expected to. Misogynistic behaviour, as she describes it, targets women who do not conform to traditional patriarchal roles. My own experiences highlight how men who deviate from “manly” traits also face hostility and abuse. Like many autistic people, I was unaware of the social pressures to conform to the gender stereotype that our society imposes. As a result, I was a target of bullying, usually by my peers but occasionally by teachers and other authority figures.

In hindsight, it is clear that those authority figures considered the bullying I complained about was justified, by statements such as “Don’t give them a reason to bully you” and “Just man up”. I have publicly shared only one example of how non-conformity can lead to being brutalised in my post “Last Meal“, but there were others that I’m not yet willing to share. This underscores the broader impact of hierarchical structures that impose rigid expectations on everyone, often leading to discrimination and exclusion for those who don’t fit the mould. Diversiphobia is not as benign as some might like to think.

Caste: The Lies That Divide Us by Pulitzer-winning writer Isabel Wilkerson explores the enduring caste system in America. She draws on her own experiences of discrimination in the United States to highlight the need for action against caste-based oppression. Wilkerson argues that caste and race are closely related and that caste is more encompassing than race. She suggests that caste is an invisible infrastructure that influences how people think about others and objects – an “air of superiority” that dominant castes have over lower castes. Wilkerson states, “Caste and race are neither synonymous nor mutually exclusive. They can and do coexist in the same culture and serve to reinforce each other. Race, in the United States, is the visible agent of the unseen force of caste. Caste is the bones, race the skin.” She argues that this superiority is a key factor in caste-based discrimination. Wilkerson calls for the annihilation of caste to create a just world, asserting that caste-based discrimination is a major cause of human wrongdoing and evil.

The film Origin, directed by Ava DuVernay, delves into similar themes of identity, belonging, and the invisible structures that uphold systemic discrimination. It serves as a powerful reminder of the need for reclamation, reconciliation, and reconnection to our identities and origins.

The stigmatisation of difference (the bones of diversiphobia) can have life-long consequences. Personally, it led me to believe I was less than a complete human and caused an aversion to standing my ground when I should have. I suffered bullying because I felt I “earned” it in some way. Discovering I’m autistic helped me look at the world differently.

At primary school, I observed and silently fumed over a left-handed classmate being repeatedly rapped over the knuckles with a wooden ruler for writing with his left hand. He was then given low grades because his right-handed writing was, according to the teacher, “virtually unreadable.” Within a few months, he developed a stammer that remained for as long as I knew him. Last I knew, he was still left-handed. And then there’s Rudolf Steiner’s anthroposophy that impacted my grandchildren’s early education, as described in my post “Fairy-tale Fallout” – a philosophy that effectively classifies races into a hierarchy of castes.

A more recent example is a visit to a medical professional. Upon learning that I’m autistic, the professional redirected subsequent questions to my wife, who was accompanying me, instead of addressing me directly. This incident underscores the pervasive nature of diversiphobia, where even those in positions of authority may unconsciously reinforce hierarchical structures that marginalise and undermine individuals who do not conform to societal norms.

To wrap up this Musical Monday post, let’s delve into the background of the song “I Am” by Stan Walker, which has become a significant anthem for me.

Stan Walker is a renowned New Zealand-Australian singer, actor, and television personality. He rose to fame after winning the seventh season of Australian Idol in 2009. Walker’s music often reflects his Māori heritage and personal experiences, making his songs deeply resonant and impactful.

The official video for “I Am” was created in response to Ava DuVernay’s film Origin. The video concept was developed by Stan Walker himself and co-directed by Walker and Shae Sterling. The production involved various locations in New Zealand, including Te Puia, Te Pā Tū, Waitomo Caves, Kaiate Falls, Mount Maunganui, and Tongariro National Park. The video features stunning visuals that highlight the beauty of these locations and the cultural significance they hold.

“I Am” was released as part of the soundtrack for Ava DuVernay’s film Origin. The song has garnered significant attention and acclaim, with the official video premiering on November 27, 2023. The video has amassed over 6.8 million views on YouTube, reflecting its widespread popularity and impact. The song’s powerful message of reclamation, reconciliation, and reconnection to identity has resonated with many listeners, making it a standout piece in Walker’s discography.

Stan Walker – I AM (Official Video) from the Ava DuVernay film ‘Origin’
I Am

We are the colour
Felt in the spring
You are the wind
Breathe into me
You inherit me
I inherit you
I am the language
You speak to me

As far as the eye can see
Everything has changed
Tell me how can we stand by
I don't wanna be the same

He toiora ahau nōu  [I am your vitality]
Te toi nō Kurawaka  [The source from Kurawaka ( the waters where life began )]
Taku rongomaiwhiti e  [My unique sacredness]
Tākiri ko te haeata  [The dawn breaks]
Anga atu ki te rā  [Face the light of the new day]
Whiti, whiti ki te ora e  [Shine, cross over to life]

We are the waters
The rivers and streams
Flow through the armour
Of a dying breed
I am with you and you are with me
Baptised in fire
We're lions in the ring

As far as the eye could see (as far as the eye could see)
Everything has changed
Tell me how can we stand by
I don't wanna be the same

He toiora ahau nōu  [I am your vitality]
Te toi nō Kurawaka  [The source from Kurawaka ( the waters where life began )]
Taku rongomaiwhiti e  [My unique sacredness]
Tākiri ko te haeata  [The dawn breaks]
Anga atu ki te rā  [Face the light of the new day]
Whiti, whiti ki te ora e  [Shine, cross over to life]

Hou mai rā  [Resounding]
Tō rongo e  [Are your deeds]
Hou mai rā  [Received]
Tō karere  [Is your message]
Mau tonu e  [It remains]

Hou mai rā
Tō rongo e
Hou mai rā
Tō karere
Mau tonu e

Hou mai rā
Tō rongo e
Hou mai rā
Tō karere
Mau tonu e

Tūturu whakamaua kia tina  [Bind together, fix and affirm]
Tina
Haumi e  [It is affirmed]
Hui e  [Bound together]
Tāiki e  [In unity]


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Hayek’s bastards

In a thought-provoking piece, Dame Anne Salmond explores the consequences of unchecked neoliberal policies in her article, “Hayek’s Bastards,” on Newsroom. Salmond reflects on how these economic doctrines have shaped New Zealand and highlights the urgent need for a philosophical shift. She argues that the relentless pursuit of profit and individualism has led to significant social and environmental costs, drawing parallels to the profound and often destructive influence of neoliberalism worldwide. For those of us whose concerns align with Salmond’s, her analysis resonates deeply. It’s a timely reminder of the importance of re-evaluating our societal values and the need for more inclusive and sustainable approaches to governance. Much like Salmond, I believe that we must critique and rethink these ingrained systems to foster a more equitable and harmonious future. By sharing her insights, I hope to spark conversations and encourage a broader understanding of these critical issues.

Read the full article on Newsroom.


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Autism research: Nothing about us without us

In the realm of autism research, a disconcerting pattern emerges: autistic individuals are often treated more like subjects in a laboratory experiment than as intelligent contributors capable of shaping and conducting research. Our voices are rarely sought, and our active participation in studies is infrequent. This approach inadvertently pathologises autistic individuals, excluding us as if our perspectives hold no value. However, it is crucial to recognise that those most adept at expressing an authentic autistic viewpoint are we, the autistic community.

Imagine a parallel scenario in any other field of research: excluding the very group under study from shaping the discourse. Such exclusion would be deemed unacceptable, undermining the fundamental principles of rigorous inquiry and equitable representation. Therefore, it is imperative that researchers actively involve autistic individuals in research, recognising our unique insights and contributions as essential to advancing the understanding of autism and fostering a more inclusive scientific community.

To transform this exclusionary approach in autism research, researchers must actively embrace a more inclusive and collaborative model. Here are some essential steps:

  1. Autistic Representation: Involve autistic individuals at every stage of research, from conceptualisation to implementation. Our lived experiences provide invaluable insights that can shape research questions, methodologies, and outcomes.
  2. Co-Design Research: Adopt a co-design approach where autistic individuals collaborate with researchers. Together, we can identify relevant topics, design studies, and interpret findings. This ensures that research aligns with the needs and priorities of the autistic community.
  3. Community Engagement: Establish meaningful connections with autistic communities. Attend conferences, workshops, and support groups. Listen to our stories, concerns, and aspirations. Engage in dialogue to build trust and foster genuine partnerships.
  4. Accessible Communication: Use clear, jargon-free language in research materials. Provide accessible formats (such as visual aids or plain language summaries) to enhance understanding. Autistic individuals should be able to access and comprehend study information easily.
  5. Ethical Inclusion: Prioritize ethical considerations. Obtain informed consent, respect autonomy, and protect privacy. Ensure that research protocols are respectful and considerate of individual differences.
  6. Diverse Research Teams: Assemble interdisciplinary teams that include autistic researchers, clinicians, educators, and advocates. Diverse perspectives enrich research and challenge biases.
  7. Dissemination and Advocacy: Disseminate research findings in formats accessible to the autistic community. Collaborate with advocacy organizations to amplify voices and advocate for policy changes based on evidence.
  8. Challenge Stereotypes: Address stereotypes and misconceptions about autism. Research should highlight strengths, resilience, and diverse abilities rather than perpetuating deficit-based narratives.
  9. Funding Priorities: Allocate research funding to projects that actively involve autistic individuals. Support initiatives that empower self-advocacy and community-driven research.
  10. Shift Paradigms: Recognize that autistic individuals are experts in their own lives. Their contributions are not just valuable; they are essential for advancing knowledge and promoting inclusivity.

By embracing these principles, researchers can create a research landscape that celebrates neurodiversity, respects autonomy, and fosters meaningful collaboration.


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Voting rights

What is it with America’s current obsession with restricting voter eligibility as well as making the actual act of voting more difficult? To me and most Kiwi’s that is the antithesis of what democracy is all about. And might I add that their obsession with non-citizens voting seems to be little short of xenophobia. For a nation built by immigrants this seems highly hypocritical. Admittedly most nations restrict voting rights to citizens, but the US seems to have taken it more to heart than almost anywhere else.

New Zealand is one of a few nations in the world that grants voting rights to non-citizens in national elections and referendums. I can find only four countries (New Zealand, Malawi, Uruguay, and Chile) that allow permanent residents to vote in national elections without any restrictions. New Zealand is the most inclusive of these four, as it requires only one year of residence for permanent residents to be eligible to vote. In contrast, Malawi requires seven years, Uruguay requires five years, and Chile requires five years and a special oath.

New Zealand’s liberal approach to voting rights for non-citizens reflects its history of immigration and its commitment to democratic values. New Zealand has been granting voting rights to non-citizens since 1853, when it allowed British subjects to vote without any residence requirement. Over time, the eligibility criteria have changed to include non-British subjects and to introduce a minimum residence requirement, but the principle of extending voting rights to non-citizens has remained. New Zealand’s electoral laws also recognised the impact of the pandemic on international travel, and temporarily extended the overseas voting eligibility for New Zealand citizens and permanent residents for the 2023 General Election.

Consider this: 14% of American residents were born overseas, and a little over 6% of American residents are non-citizens. The same figures for New Zealand are 28% and 11% respectively. If extending voting rights to non-citizens had a negative impact on the well being of a nation, doesn’t it seem probable that any harm it might cause would have become apparent in this country before now?

New Zealand’s experience with non-citizen voting has been largely positive, as it has contributed to the integration and participation of immigrants in the political community. Non-citizen voters tend to have similar preferences and behaviours as citizen voters, and do not pose a threat to the national identity or interests of New Zealand. Non-citizen voting also enhances the representation and diversity of the electorate, and encourages the responsiveness and accountability of the government to the needs and concerns of all residents. Shouldn’t that be at the heart of good government everywhere?

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