Dear Colleague Letters Archive

March 1 , 2005

Dear Colleague,

         All young children are somewhat "autistic." They don't socialize well, can't empathize with other people, are inventive with language, and spend much time in a world created out of their own highly charged imagination. Adults marvel at this early stage of development in the human young, a stage that may well be called "Age of Genius." Decline--or, if you like, improvement--occurs when children turn seven. They then begin to show an eagerness to belong to a group, learn the wiles of socialization, and that means a long process of dumbing down intellectually and a long process of truth-tempering morally. As against the earlier poetic use of language, children start to speak in cliches so as to be understood by their playmates; and as against utter frankness, they begin to tell lies and white lies in order to smooth social intercourse and be considered a regular guy. A further stage in deterioration occurs when puberty kicks in. Raging hormones reduce imagination to illustrated manuals of coupling, and language--when it is used at all--to baby talk.

         Humankind is unlikely to have achieved culture, much less civilization, if it were not the case that some humans never quite move out of the autistic frame of mind. Such humans don't socialize well, don't quite fit in with the customs and beliefs of the tribe, and don't particularly want to; they retain, if they are linguistically gifted, their fascination with language and continue to introduce striking metaphors that baffle their peers; and, if they are scientifically gifted, they continue to be fully engaged with some aspect--often esoteric or abstract--of external reality, and they have a tendency to speak the truth as they see it forthrightly, in disregard of social consequences, again like a child.

         Now, isn't the trouble with Lawrence H. Sommers, President of Harvard, that he is somewhat autistic in a world of normal, well-adjusted, nice-talk people? Sommers needs to be socialized, to temper his straight talk with artful qualifications, be more aware that people--even the tough-minded faculty at Harvard--have become extraordinarily sensitive, with antennas attuned to the slightest suspicion of insult. In scene after scene of mea culpa, Sommers promised to curb his autism and speak just "like folks" so as to keep his job.

         What about me? Well, I am ashamed to say that I am the opposite of Sommers. I have always been ready to say nice agreeable things so as to be accepted, even popular.  "Dear Colleague" is, however, a mild exception. In it, I do speak plainly about somewhat controversial topics, knowing that such plain-speaking may arouse hostility. And, indeed, it has. And hostility hurts, but I am now better able to bear it. Why? Because an old person like me returns to the autism of early childhood. I am once more free to disregard the frown of adults and let my mind roam irresponsibly. So, dear colleague, you have old age to look forward to, free of social shackles, at liberty to let your thoughts rip!

         (Source: two articles in The New York Times, 26 February, 2005: "As autistic children grow, so does social gap" and "Amid uproar, Harvard head lists his goals.")

Best wishes,

Yi-Fu

 

 

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