I’m reading a book by Temple Grandin called Animals in Translation, in which she tells about an affinity between animals and autistic people that doesn’t exist between animals and the rest of the human population. Because she herself has autism, this affinity has made possible her unusual career—and its contribution to all animal-centered occupations.
Dr. Grandin is a professor of animal science at Colorado State University and a designer of livestock-handling facilities for the meat-packing industry. She is also probably the most famous spokesperson for a population that rarely speaks for itself—autistic people—thanks to her own high-level intellect and the help and guidance of a number of mentors, starting with her mother. My interest in Animals in Translation is because of the fascination I already had with her previous books and her own story. This book is co-authored by Catherine Johnson, who I learned from the Internet is a writer specializing in neuropsychiatry who has written three previous books, and who has three sons, two of whom are autistic.
Dr. Grandin explains that all animals are visual thinkers, while most human beings are “verbal.” This has to do with differences in their sensory organs, especially vision, which correspond in each species to the usual conditions of that animal’s life: how it gets food, what dangers threaten it, and what its defense is against that danger. She says all humans who aren’t autistic suffer from “abstractability,” which prevents us from recognizing or understanding certain traits shared by all other animals. Autistic people, however, do understand these traits because they share them. She gave examples from her work of visual occurrences that wouldn’t bother most humans but that can halt a whole herd of animals, such as light sparkling on water or shadows moving on a wall. Because she could see the way the animals were seeing, Dr. Grandin was able to solve problems none of her co-workers understood. In these respects the autistic population falls somewhere between nonautistic humans and other animals.
Reading this book made me realize a trait of my own; I have learned that I am even more “abstractable” than the average human being—more verbal and far less visual. I have recognized this gradually over the years and see it more lately as I look back on my life. None of my favorite pursuits involve visual pleasure or artistic dexterity. I have had few hobbies; I don’t grow flowers or cook for pleasure or enjoy sewing or crafts, and often don’t notice what’s around me. My interests, and my abilities, are almost entirely abstract. What I’m interested in are people’s thoughts, their emotions, their interactions, their interpretations of what goes on, their problem-solving and knowledge-seeking, their ideas. And the tools of my interest are words. I read a lot. And not only have I always wanted to write, I have written reams, all my life, because I couldn’t help it any more than a natural athlete can help moving around.
How interesting our differences are, and how they matter when it comes to our life choices.