It is true we need to debate the problems this science brings up to our society. It seems to me that if a human does not fit into the role of work in a capitlist society then his function is of little use - of little help, though of course they too can work. We don't know nor understand autism in both here it comes from and why it is there in the first palce, so to eliminate it is to remove this knowledge before we know it. In short we will remove an aspect of humanity without first understanding it. A part of evolution the same. Autistic people are able to function in ways that surpass our normal functions like in the case of my brother to memorise an extroadinary amount of facts - to calculate at incredible speed and to paint in ways that others may not be able to see.

I fully agree with the article. I don't see any real debate needed but I like Ivans comments especially "Autistic people are able to...paint in ways that others may not be able to see".

For an example of this, see the number Pi painted by Daniel Tammet, who can repeat Pi to 22,514 decimal places, and invents new languages for fun. A 2007 poll of 4,000 Britons named him as one of the world's "100 living geniuses".


PI

Three, One, Four, One, Five, and On
The numbers recount their endless tale.
Three - Barefoot green, a silent voice.
White as hunger, One is twice
Bright like babies’ eyes.
Four is timid, envious of E.
Five, Punctuation or a pregnant sigh
Precedes proud Nine, colour of falling night.
Two, an unfastened knot,
A wayward wind, the hollow of Six resounding.
Nearby, Eight, a cloud of fireflies above a lake
Over which I skim Sevens
Remembering that Zero is nothing but a circle.

PI

Trois, Un, Quatre, Un, Cinq, et ainsi de suite
Les chiffres racontent leur histoire sans limite.
Trois – vert, les pieds nus, une voix silencieuse.
Blanc comme la faim, Un est vif
Comme les yeux d’un bébé.
Quatre est timide, envieux du E.
Cinq, ponctuation ou soupir lourd
Précède le Neuf fier, couleur d’une nuit tombante.
Deux, un nœud défait, vent rebelle,
Comme le creux du Six qui résonne.
Tout près, Huit, nuage de lucioles au dessus d’un lac
Sur lequel je fais des ricochets avec les Septs
En me souvenant que Zéro n’est rien qu’un cercle.