Autism did not suddenly appear in the twentieth century like a strange new species blinking into hospital light. It has always been here, quietly rearranging the furniture of human culture, tuning attention to unusual frequencies, insisting that the world could be perceived otherwise. What changed over time was not autism itself, but the stories told about it, the power structures interpreting it, and the tools used to name it. This is not just a basic history of autism.
This is a history of shifting lenses; from myth and medicine to diagnosis and identity, from pathology to politics, from being spoken about to speaking for ourselves.
Before Autism Had A Name
Long before clinicians arrived with clipboards, human societies noticed people who moved, spoke, sensed, or focused differently. Medieval records describe “holy fools”, “changelings”, and reclusive savants. Some were feared, some protected, some exploited, some quietly folded into community roles that valued intense focus or solitary craft.
These accounts were not medical, but cultural. Difference was interpreted through religion, superstition, or morality rather than neurology. Importantly, there was no unified category; just people who didn’t quite fit the social rhythm of the time.
The modern mistake is assuming that the absence of a diagnostic label meant the absence of Autistic people. The opposite is closer to the truth; autism existed, but interpretation varied wildly. Diagnostic labels are only a small part of the history of autism.
Some of the earliest mentions of people exhibiting Autistic expression are a Scottish court case regarding one Hugh Blair of Borgue (1747), wherein a man with what is assumed to be higher support needs sought to secure his inheritance, and the Wild Boy Of Aveyron (1798) which regarded the case of a “feral child” called Victor, and was documented by a French physician.
While human records may be limited, it is likely that Autistic people have existed as long as human brains have.
The Birth Of A Diagnosis (1940s)
The word autism entered psychiatry through Leo Kanner, who in 1943 described a group of children with what he called “early infantile autism”. He emphasised social withdrawal, intense sameness, and unusual language development.
Around the same time, in Austria, Hans Asperger wrote about children he saw as having “autistic psychopathy”, a term that, in its original context, meant personality type rather than the violence we associate with such language in modern days.
Their descriptions overlapped more than they differed. Both noticed deep focus, atypical communication, and distinctive relationships with the world. The divergence came later, shaped by geopolitics and power.
Asperger’s work remained largely unknown in the English-speaking world for decades, partly due to language barriers, partly due to the long shadow of World War II. Asperger himself has become the focus of intense scrutiny, with the modern Autistic community desiring a great distance from his Nazi associations and the evidence of violent eugenics within his work. Kanner’s framework, meanwhile, became dominant, and with it came a narrow, deficit-heavy model.
Decades before Leo Kanner published his landmark paper, a Russian (later Soviet) psychiatrist named Grunya Sukhareva had already described what we would now unmistakably recognise as autism. In 1925, Sukhareva published detailed clinical accounts of children she called “schizoid psychopathy” in a German psychiatric journal; rich portraits noting intense focus, sensory sensitivities, literal thinking, social differences, deep ethical concern, and remarkable talents.
Her writing is strikingly modern. She framed these children not as broken, but as developmentally distinct, often thriving when supported rather than coerced. History sidelined her work for reasons that will sound depressingly familiar; gender, geography, language, antisemitism, and the politics of whose knowledge gets canonised in the hstory of autism.
When Kanner and later Asperger entered the stage, Sukhareva’s work was quietly erased from the narrative, despite predating them both. Restoring her to autism’s history doesn’t just correct the record; it reminds us that autism was first described with nuance, curiosity, and respect, and that the pathologisation came later.
The Age of Blame And Behaviourism (1950s–1970s)
This period deserves to be remembered honestly, and critically.
Autism was framed as tragic, rare, and devastating. The infamous “refrigerator mother” theory by Bettelheim suggested cold parenting caused autism, inflicting lasting harm on families and especially mothers.
There was no evidence. There was plenty of confidence.
As psychiatry hardened, behaviourism rose. The goal was not understanding Autistic people, but reshaping them, often through coercive methods designed to suppress difference rather than support wellbeing. Autism became something to fix, not a way of being to accommodate.
This era planted the seeds of mistrust that still exist between Autistic communities and many clinical institutions today. In this sense, it was an important time in the history of autism, that frames much of the struggle we face today.
Diagnostic Expansion And The Spectrum Emerges (1980s–1990s)
With the publication of DSM-III and later revisions, autism shifted from a narrow diagnosis to a broader category. Asperger’s Syndrome was introduced into DSM-IV, creating artificial divisions between “types” of Autistic people, divisions that often mapped more closely to social privilege than neurocognitive reality.
The idea of a spectrum began to circulate, though it was often misunderstood as a linear scale from “mild” to “severe”.
This model obscured the spiky, uneven, context-dependent nature of Autistic experience. Still, something important was happening; more people recognised themselves. Late-diagnosed adults began to surface. Parents questioned old narratives. The cracks were forming.
In a quiet corner of the internet, a forum, known as INLV (Independent Living) began discussing a concept called “neurological diversity”. This forum was essentially the birthplace of what we now know as the neurodiversity movement. The early 90’s, in this respect, marked the beginning of a liminal era where we would move beyond the medicalisation of autism and towards a cultural identity.
While Judy Singer was credited with the joining of the term “neurodiversity”, it’s true origins lay in the INLV community and the discussions that were occurring there. You can read more about this by clicking here. It was only in 2024 that this “overdue correction” to the history of the neurodiversity movement officially came to light. In the history of autism, neurodiversity as a concept marks the start of the Autistic community we see today.
Autism Meets Identity and Politics (2000s–2010s)
The early 2000s marked a turning point. Autistic people continued writing, organising, and challenging the story being told about them. The neurodiversity movement reframed autism as a natural variation in human neurology rather than a disease.
This was not a denial of difficulty or support needs. It was a rejection of shame. Autism became understood as relational; shaped by environments, expectations, sensory load, and social power. Concepts like masking, burnout, and the double empathy problem disrupted the idea that Autistic people alone were failing at communication.
Language itself became political. Identity-first language (“Autistic person”) asserted that autism is not an accessory, it is woven into perception, cognition, and selfhood. The idea that Autistic identity existed grew more and more, and with it, challenges from those who would medicalise and suppress Autistic expression.
The Contemporary Understanding Of Autism
Autism is recognised as a lifelong, heterogeneous neurocognitive style with genetic, developmental, and environmental dimensions. The collapse of Asperger’s Syndrome into Autism Spectrum Disorder in DSM-5 acknowledged what Autistic people had long said; the divisions never truly existed.
Current thinking increasingly understands autism as:
- Non-linear and dynamic
- Shaped by context and systems
- Inseparable from sensory experience
- Deeply affected by social exclusion and expectation
There is growing awareness that distress often arises not from autism itself, but from environments that refuse to bend.
Research is slowly catching up to lived experience. Autistic-led scholarship is expanding. Community knowledge is finally being taken seriously; though not without resistance.
Where the Story Is Going
Autism’s history is not a straight line toward enlightenment. It is a contested terrain; medicine, culture, power, and identity pulling in different directions. The emerging shift is away from asking “What is wrong with Autistic people?” and toward “What kind of world are we building, and who does it work for?”
Autism is no longer just a diagnosis. It is a culture, a politics, a way of sensing and thinking that has always been here, quietly shaping humanity from the edges.
The story is unfinished. For the first time, Autistic people are holding the pen. Despite those who would silence us, we continue to make noise.
