Why geek geniuses lack social graces
Norman Doidge On Human Nature
National Post
The Massachusetts Institute of Technology, perhaps the finest post-graduate
school for mathematical and computer minds in the world, has a course that
teaches its entering geniuses the most basic social skills -- often at a
rudimentary level. MIT students wittily dub it "charm school." Many of the
best and the brightest minds in science, math and computers are often
physically and socially clumsy, and they know it. They've been teased
mercilessly for being "klutzes" of one sort or another most of their lives.
Ten years ago, Dr. David Forrest, a psychoanalyst who had studied
schizophrenics, turned his research attention to those who are designated
"nerds," "geeks" and "space-cadets," to understand why so many with superior
mental abilities are uncoordinated, come with plastic pen packs in smudged
shirt pockets, have an often whiny voice with a mechanical timbre, and a
sudden loud, peculiar, foghorn laugh and snort. He wondered why a "nerd"
stoops to take such a close look at what interests him, sniffing his food if
it smells funny, placing his nose right in it, "locking on" with his eyes.
Forrest wondered if there was some special relationship between certain kinds
of intelligence and the absence of physical and social graces.
Now there's a book, Shadow Syndromes, that begins to answer Forrest's
questions, and many more. Shadow Syndromes, by Harvard psychiatrist John
Ratey (co-authored with Catherine Johnson), sets off a cascade of "aha"
reactions that significantly alter one's conception of oneself and others.
It's only in the last few decades that we have learned that most of the major
mental disorders have "shadow syndromes" or milder versions. Ratey's and
Johnson's book brilliantly describes numerous shadow syndromes -- masked
depressions (that show up in those who are always "being difficult"), less
severe manias, obsessive-compulsive disorders, rages, and attention deficits,
all of which influence our work and love lives.
For instance, Shadow Syndromes builds a powerful case that many of us "nerds"
are at the mildest end of a spectrum of autistic disorders. Till recently,
autism was believed to exist only in a severe form. Autistic kids have
profound difficulty connecting with people, and always appear "out of it."
But many have neurological difficulties as well. Autistic infants, when
startled, can't turn off the startle response. They are hypersensitive, and
are well-known to spend hours rocking or moving their hands rhythmically, to
soothe themselves.
But 10 years ago, Edward Ritvo of UCLA, in an attempt to study autistic
children, went around Utah, and spoke to the parents of every known autistic
child in the state. He discovered that a number of the parents were mildly
autistic themselves. Some were socially isolated, had autistic ways of
walking (were "odd ducks") and spent long hours rocking.
Suddenly, it seemed that along with some well-known physical causes, there
was likely a genetic component to autism. As well, the psychoanalytic
observation that some autistic kids had parents who could not connect with
them seemed not so far-fetched: Some of these parents were autistic.
Mildly autistic people have a characteristic, Mr. Spock-like way of speaking
-- overly formal, with little emotion. They have trouble understanding the
meaning of tone changes in speech and can't easily make small talk. They
can't read people. One of Dr. Ratey's patients, Aaron, a socially awkward
computer programmer and a 34-year-old virgin, who might have passed for
neurotic, couldn't empathize at all. Never having known what empathy was,
when others understood him, he felt they had invaded his mind. He showed the
signs of physical awkwardness and couldn't dance unless someone physically
guided each step. (Many autistic kids can't skip, or clap in time to music,
and have problems with rhythm and balance.)
Co-ordination of movement and balance are known to be regulated by the part
of the brain called the cerebellum. We now know, from brain scan studies by
Eric Courchesne, that the cerebellum is significantly underdeveloped in
autism. It has also recently been shown, to the surprise of many, that the
cerebellum co-ordinates both physical movement and the shifting of attention.
This finding is momentous. It led Courchesne to ask, "What would happen to
the infant who comes into the world with cerebellar damage, and a clumsy
attentional apparatus?" Courchesne showed that it took these kids six seconds
to shift attention, and hypothesized that this was not fast enough to make
out the fleeting sweeps of emotional expression and social information. A
smile erupts and disappears in a moment on a mother's face. The child who
cannot catch it, or who can't shift his attention quickly enough to see what
the mother is smiling at, feels "out of it." At best, he catches the shadow
of her smile. Thus, he cannot "tune in" to people, or share in a moment of
joy. Later on, he may learn to tediously calculate what others are feeling,
but that is hard work, indeed.
This cerebellar slowness may also explain some of the intellectual feats of
the mildly autistic "computer nerds" that are now reorganizing the planet.
(Bill Gates, according to Shadow Syndromes, is reported to rock himself,
spend hours on the trampoline, not make eye contact, and have trouble making
social conversation.) It is not just that computers provide an alternative to
direct contact with people. Many mildly autistic people are right-brain
types, often with great visual-spatial skills. Silicon Valley is filled with
shy, awkward geniuses, who are able to be obsessed with certain interests or
ideas; never letting go of them, they are able to make connections and
discoveries the rest of us cannot.
But more importantly, because attention shifting is slowed, autistic people
experience life as a series of freeze frames. Thus, they have trouble
perceiving the whole. But they are far better than "normal" people at
perceiving the parts. Some autistic artists can reproduce, in perfect detail,
a building only seen once; the "normal" artist starts from a sketch of the
whole, then fills the details in. Autistic people can see things out of
context -- the starting point for invention.
Ratey and Johnson state that neuroscience "is proving Freud right: probably
none of us is 'normal' -- normal in the sense of possessing a brain in which
every part and system works as well as every other part and system -- and all
functions lie well within an optimal range." In Shadow Syndromes you may just
recognize your own "noisy" brain and the way it, for evolutionary reasons,
biases how you process information. It's getting late in 1999, so it's not
too early to recommend Shadow Syndromes as one of the most fascinating books
on psychiatry, for the general reader, of the decade.