Who will rid me of this turbulent autistic?

There are important people, and less important people, right? There are people you look up to and whose authority you respect, and people you expect to do as you tell them. This is expressed by rank or grade hierarchies (such as we have in the Civil Service) or by some people having power and others not, or indeed by The Class System. Neurotypical brains seem to navigate these hierarchies instinctively – they can calculate the correct level of deference due to (say) someone rich or famous or in charge, and adapt their behaviour accordingly. Autistics not so much. My autistic brain is a bit of an egalitarian absolutist, treating everyone as an equal, which can be great for mixing it up and challenging authority, or can lead me to being a right pain to those whose position leads them to expect respect.

At work this egalitarianism tends to express itself as me thinking my ideas are worth hearing by people at the top of the office. Sometimes they are, but sometimes the senior people know things I have no idea of about the big picture of what’s going on, so I’d do better to shut up. I also have a tendency to challenge things I think might be wrong – out of an honest desire to improve things – which can get over-interpreted as impertinence or challenging authority. It’s tricky because some kind of ability to question authority is definitely necessary to prevent groupthink and to challenge practices that need to change. But the autistic tendency to speak up to anyone, regardless of who, can have bad results for the autistic.

I’ve written posts based on the seven O Antiphons which gave a nice structure, and it so happens that the days after Christmas are mostly Saints’ Days so I’m taking advantage of some of them as well. Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, was killed by soldiers of King Henry II on this day (29 December) in 1170. Thomas was one of the king’s closest friends and ministers so Henry thought it would be a good idea to make him head of the Church in England as then the Church would do what the king said. Unfortunately for King Henry, when he was made a priest Thomas got religion big time, and stood up for the Church against the king. Henry lost his temper and said to his servants: “will no-one rid me of this turbulent priest?” or words to that effect. Some of his knights took that as an instruction to deal with the Becket issue, which they did, permanently: getting blood and brains all over the cathedral floor. Henry regretted his words and Becket was made a Saint which was a big deal for Canterbury. (The pilgrims who told the “Canterbury Tales” were on their way to visit Becket’s tomb in the cathedral.)

Based on what I’ve just said about Becket you can see how he linked in my mind to failure to respect worldly power and authority. His life is also an elegant illustration of what happens if you don’t respect them – you might end up with the moral high ground, but you might also end up dead. Of course in modern life upsetting powerful people is less likely to result in having the top of your head hacked off with swords. What might happen though is that things start going wrong in your career, or you get passed over for opportunities, or slip ups that don’t matter when someone else makes them suddenly become hugely culpable when it’s you.

I recall an occasion at work when I was more junior than I am now when I thought a more senior colleague was doing something more out of self-interest than the public interest. Whether I was right or wrong doesn’t matter, and it’s impossible to say now; quite likely I was wrong and should have shut up. The point is that the senior colleague felt threatened by the fact that I challenged them. They started treating me differently to other colleagues and taking the worst possible interpretation of what I said – generally not what I’d meant at all. It got to the point where when we spoke it was almost entirely at cross purposes because each thought the worst of the other. Because the other person had the power, I was the one who suffered from this conflict and for a while I was very miserable. If I hadn’t been autistic, I doubt I would have challenged someone who had direct power over me on a point of principle, and I’d have had a much easier life. (If the senior person had been a better person they would have said: “thanks for raising this – it was important you did – but on this occasion you’re mistaken” or similar.)

Returning to Becket, there are some points of principle that are worth dying for – for him the Church and his faith were among them. There are probably such things for all of us – hills on which we would figuratively die. But it makes sense to pick your battles and only take on someone more powerful when you know what you’re getting in to. Autistic brains don’t seem to work like that – failing to see power structures and hierarchies as significant we blunder in speaking truth as we see it and get into trouble when we didn’t mean it. I’ve got better at seeing and navigating power structures as I’ve progressed in my career and can generally pick my battles. But still some fundamental part of my brain protests – I honestly struggle to see why I should respect authority, although I know I must. It can be a good thing to be a disrupter who treats everyone the same, but it can also be a very dangerous thing; how many autistics end up morally right but figuratively martyred?

This post was brought to you by the Collect for Thomas Becket (a collect is a special name for a prayer for the day):

Lord God, who gave grace to your servant Thomas Becket to put aside all earthly fear and be faithful even to death: grant that we, disregarding worldly esteem, may fight all wrong, uphold your rule, and serve you to our life’s end; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who is alive and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen