The Prehistory of Autism

Penny Spikins and Barry Wright

Rounded Globe
 Contents

Preface
Introduction
CHAPTER ONE: Traits of autism and the archaeology of the Palaeolithic
CHAPTER TWO: New perspectives on autism
CHAPTER THREE: Autism and earliest human origins
CHAPTER FOUR: 100,000 years ago onwards – autism and prehistoric
hunter-gatherer societies
CHAPTER FIVE: Autism needs communities and communities need
autism
Conclusions
About the Authors
 Preface – what terms to use?
Anybody who uses the term ‘autism’ is faced with the challenge that autism is a
highly variable condition which affects people in different ways. For some
people with autism, their autism is a severe impairment, a condition which
brings severe challenges and affects many areas of their life. To not acknowledge
their difficulties would be to fail to engage with the challenges they face and
even to risk depriving such people of the evident justification for much needed
help. For many people, however, autism can present challenges in some contexts
but also advantages in others. For such people to term their autism a disability
seems mistaken; for them there are good arguments for seeing autism as simply a
difference, bringing both advantages and disadvantages, or strengths and
weaknesses as with any other difference.
The very varied nature of autism means that no term or even approach will be
entirely appropriate for everyone whom autism affects. Many might find that our
discussion of the talents and special skills associated with autism and how these
might have contributed to human success validates their own feeling of their
own important talents and skills. However, others might feel that this sets
unrealistic expectations that they should have an area of particular contribution
and downplays the difficulties which they face. Equally, for some our discussion
of how disabilities in general were treated in prehistory is important to better
understand how autism that brings clear impairments might have been integrated
into communities, for many any association of autism with clear impairments in
function is problematic as their autism is best seen as simply a difference in mind
rather than a condition requiring support. We like to think that any reader will
take from this book that which is particularly pertinent and valuable to them.
We argue that viewing autism as necessarily a disability prevents us from
understanding the contribution that individuals with autism have made to our
human communities. Viewing autism as a difference is much more constructive;
but this in no way negates the challenges which autism may bring.
In this ebook, we will juggle differing perspectives on autism, and generally use
the term autism to refer to a wide ranging and complex spectrum.
 Introduction
Are our images and ideas of our human evolutionary past flawed?
We love simple stories, with a single hero to relate to. Human evolution has
traditionally been presented very much as this kind of simple story (Landau
1993). Our narratives of human evolution tell us about the heroic rise and
success of one type of person, whilst our reconstructions of the distant past
almost always depict one ideal type – young men, in perfect health, who show
no signs of difference or vulnerability. We know evolution was a complex
process, with many branching trees, but we prefer to see a single type of person
evolving, following a single evolutionary progression from past to present
(figure i.1).

Figure i.1. Human evolution: the story of just one mind and one type of person?.
Of course, when we pause to think about it we know such images of the distant
past cannot be wholly representative. Physical differences, vulnerabilities and
disabilities are everywhere in our anatomical record, and cognitive differences,
vulnerabilities and disabilities were likely also widespread. Moreover, as many
as half the population at any one time were sub-adult, many were elderly, and,
unsurprisingly, half of our ancestors were women. Perhaps even more
fundamentally, our ancestral environments were not ones in which anyone
survived alone or went through life without depending on others. Coping with
individual vulnerability through mutual dependence structured how people
survived. In our modern, western and industrialised societies we tend to think of
ourselves as independent individuals, and we impose that on our past; however,
we evolved as communities. We rarely consider the potential significance of the
diversity and difference which must have existed in our evolutionary past.
When we consider how diverse and interdependent past societies must have been
we can’t help but wonder if diversity itself might have been important in some
way in our evolutionary success. Different people bring different skills and
talents and might find different solutions to problems which threaten survival,
and it isn’t difficult to see that any prehistoric group with a range of varied
talents might fare better than one where everyone is similar. More than this,
whilst we so often focus on one ‘typical’ person when we consider our
evolutionary story, perhaps the relationships between people may be more
significant (Spikins, Wright, and Hodgson 2016)?
Here we will consider precisely these questions, focusing particularly on the
unique contribution made by individuals with autism.
Considering the evolutionary context of autism is certainly a challenge. Unlike
many other conditions, which we can trace back into the past through physical
evidence, autism leaves no direct anatomical signs. This means that we must
rely on subtle and indirect evidence to understand autism in the distant past.
However, unlike many of the conditions for which we find evidence in the past,
autism is not clearly a disability or disorder. Autism is sometimes associated
with intellectual disabilities and can be severely disabling, and for some
individuals the attribution of disability (unhelpful though such a concept can be)
is vital to their accessing the support that they need. To understand the role of
such individuals in the past we need to understand how past societies coped with
individuals who needed considerable support. However, for many people autism
seems far more of a difference than a disability, bringing with it both deficits and
skills. Such individuals today contribute to society in many ways. Common
sense suggests that such individuals might have played an important role in the
distant past, but is there any evidence that that was indeed the case? And what
might autism have contributed to human evolutionary success?
The question of the role of autism in our shared evolutionary history is not only
significant in our understanding of the past but also important today. As autism
touches the lives of almost all of us, either personally or through friends or
family, diagnosed or undiagnosed it seems valuable to explore this question
more deeply.
We start our discussion in chapter one by considering the archaeological
evidence. It has been argued that some elements of the archaeological record of
the distant past, in particular European Ice Age art, reflect traits of autism.
Archaeology, however, has been rather slow to wonder whether there is any
evidence for a role for individuals with autism in the societies of the distant past,
and whatever hints have emerged of a possible influence of autism have tended
to be ignored. In this first chapter, we consider what conclusions, if any, we can
draw directly from the archaeological evidence.
In chapter two we consider the characteristics of autism in more detail, looking
at recent research into the differences which the condition brings and the balance
of skills and weaknesses. We consider how autistic talents and traits of autism
might have lent themselves to particular roles in the distant past, and put forward
a new way of looking at autism.
In chapter three we consider the far distant evolutionary past, from the split
between those species who became human ancestors and our nearest relatives,
chimpanzees. We look at how disabilities might have been treated in far distant
societies, and how the inclusion of vulnerabilities likely developed in human
societies through time.
In chapter four we consider key characteristics of hunting and gathering
societies emerging from 100,000 years ago which might have allowed particular
roles for individuals with autism to emerge. We use analogies with modern
hunting and gathering societies as well as archaeological evidence to consider
what life may have been like for individuals with autism in hunting and gathering
societies of the distant past.
In chapter five we reflect on the potential significance of autism to human
evolutionary success, and on explanations for the possible traits of autism in
European Ice Age art discussed in chapter one.
We conclude by reflecting on a new story of human origins.
We argue that autism, and the diversity of cognition of which autism is a part,
was significant to human evolutionary success. The significance of traits of
autism became particularly apparent after 100,000 years ago alongside three
major changes in human society and adaptation: changes in population structure,
the colonisation of increasingly difficult habitats and, most importantly, the
emergence of collaborative morality. Traits of autism in Upper Palaeolithic art
may represent something more fundamental than simply the possible presence of
individuals with autism.
By considering the past we argue for a new view of autism today, one in which
we recognise that, as human societies, not only do individuals with autism need
communities but communities need individuals with autism.
We reflect that writing a new story of human origins, in which diversity in
general and autistic diversity in particular, play a major role is not necessarily an
easy task... but it is surely a particularly important one.

Bibliography
Landau, M. 1993. Narratives of Human Evolution. Yale University Press.
Spikins, P. A., Wright, B and Hodgson, D. 2016 in press. “Are There Alternative
Adaptive Strategies to Human pro-Sociality? The Role of Collaborative Morality
in the Emergence of Personality Variation and Autistic Traits.” Time and Mind:
The Journal of Archaeology, Consciousness and Culture
 CHAPTER ONE: Traits of autism and the
archaeology of the Palaeolithic
What possible evidence can there be of autism in the distant past?
We shall see in chapter three that physical vulnerabilities are widespread in the
far distant past. Many individuals living with injuries or impairments, even those
severe enough to render them immobile, were looked after by their communities.
Differences and efforts to accommodate them are part of the human story.
However, there is no physical evidence of individuals with autism as the
condition leaves no trace on human bones. If we are to look for the influence of
autism on distant societies we must, therefore, turn our gaze to the material
culture of such societies.
In this chapter we consider the archaeological evidence, particularly cave art
produced in the Ice Age, which has been interpreted as evidence of the presence
of autism. Ice Age art is associated with what is seen as a flowering of European
cultural sophistication, and with autism conventionally seen as a disorder,
attempts to connect it with Ice Age art have been contentious. Nevertheless,
characteristics of this art do seem similar to some of the characteristics of art
made by talented individuals with autism. Does that mean that the art was
produced by individuals with autism? We shall see that the question is rather
more complex. Art is part of everyday life in the Ice Age, and traits of autism are
found not only in cave art but also in such realms as portable art and technology.
Yet this material record speaks of far more than traits of autism. Indeed, much of
the art and material culture doesn’t show such traits, and there may be other
explanations for the similarities. There is no unambiguous evidence of the work
of an individual who must have had autism.
This does not mean that there is nothing to learn about autism from Upper
Palaeolithic art. In fact, such art may tell us something more fundamental than
simply whether or not individuals with autism left their mark on the material
record. In order to understand so-called traits of autism and what they might
mean about autism in the distant past however we find that we will, however,
need to delve a little deeper into both autism and past hunter-gatherer societies.

Ice Age Art: The question of autism in Prehistory emerges

Several authors have linked features of European Ice Age art to autism, so such
art is an obvious starting point for any exploration of the potential archaeological
evidence for the influence of autism in our distant past. However, suggestions of
a relationship between autism and Ice Age art have been deeply contentious.
When we understand the historical background to the discovery of Ice Age art
this is perhaps not surprising. For various reasons Ice Age art seems to carry a
significance which goes beyond what it tells us about past communities and into
what we feel signifies key characteristics of national identities and even
humanity itself. Only when we understand this background does the intensity of
the debate about art and autism fall into place.

Ice Age art in historical and political context

European Ice Age art, dating to far distant periods, from around 30,000 to
around 10,000 years ago, is deeply evocative. Most people have heard of the
great painted caves of southwest Europe, of exciting discoveries of past
masterpieces in evocative locations which seem to capture the human spirit.
Standing deep in a dark cave, seeing art made by someone twenty or thirty
thousand years ago that seems to have been made only yesterday, is a deeply
moving experience. Moreover, these artists were clearly talented, depicting
horses or bison or lions with a realism which lies well beyond most people’s
artistic ability. In fact, the experience of encountering Ice Age art is so moving,
so deeply emotional, that the art is often taken to symbolise something profound
about how people communicate and its emergence and flourishing is taken as
marking a significant transition towards what feels like humanity in the story of
our origins.
The clear talent expressed in Ice Age art has been problematic from its first
discovery. In fact some of the earliest finds were felt to be too sophisticated to
have been made by ‘primitive’ prehistoric peoples and lay unrecognised for
years. Finely made engravings of animals on bone plaquettes were found in
France from as early as the 1860s, for example, but their authenticity remained
in question. Doubts also remained for some time after engravings of extinct
animals, such as the mammoth on a bone found by Édouard Lartet in the rock
shelter of La Madeleine in the Dordogne in 1864 (figure 1.1), were discovered.
Moreover the discovery of the dramatic frieze of bison at Altamira by Marceino
Sainz de Sautola in 1895 (figure 1.2 and figure 1.3) wasn’t believed to be
genuine until the early twentieth century.
Figure 1.1. Engraving of a mammoth on a bone found in excavations at La Madeleine, France in 1864.
Figure 1.2. The ceiling at Altamira, discovered in 1895.
Horse depictions at Chauvet Cave
Horse depictions at Lascaux Cave

Figure 1.4. Nicolas Humphrey compared depictions of horses from Chauvet Cave (upper left) and Lascaux
Cave (lower left) with drawings made by Nadia, a talented child with severe autism (right, at 3 years 5
months).

Unsurprisingly when Humphrey pointed out that Nadia’s exceptionally talented

drawings shared features with Upper Palaeolithic art he created something of a
stir.
It seemed clear that Nadia’s autism influenced her remarkable ability to see
details in the world, to remember them and to reproduce them in ways that made
her an extraordinarily talented artist who drew in a particular way. Some
Palaeolithic art might then share something with autism that might explain the
similarities.
Today we can see that the characteristics of Nadia’s art related to key features of
her autism: a focus on parts rather than wholes derived from poor central
coherence (a particular focus on details rather than the overall pattern),
superimposition of forms related to ease in separating different forms though
skills in identifying embedded figures, and accurate depiction from memory
related to remarkable memory skills – all characteristics that can be connected to
the type of perception associated with autistic minds (which we consider in more
detail in the next chapter).
Humphrey particularly emphasised, however, that Nadia’s art seemed to have
some relationship to her lack of verbal ability. As a child Nadia lacked all but the
most simple verbal language. Her expertise in accurate visual representation was
interpreted as related to this lack of language. Unencumbered by social
categories imposed on what she drew, she drew an image, almost like a
photograph, of what lay before her as she remembered it in all its detail (figure
1.5). As Lorna Selfe (1977) noted, children of a similar age without autism
perceive, remember and draw an ‘ideal’ stylised horse (see figure 1.6) focusing
on what they know a ‘horse’ implies (such as being an animal with four legs).
Moreover, as soon as Nadia’s verbal skills began to develop she lost her artistic
skills, producing instead drawings more typical of a child of her age. The
implication seemed to be that, unencumbered by the imposition of linguistic and
social categories, Nadia could see and remember things directly and accurately.
Figure 1.5. Horse and rider completed at approximately 5 years 6 months by Nadia Chomyn.
 Figure 1.6. Drawing of a horse by Chloe, a girl of around the same age without autism.

Humphrey did not interpret Ice Age art as produced by individuals with autism.
This was entirely reasonable as, given the ubiquity of the art, with over three
hundred painted caves and an even greater body of art in the form of portable
plaquettes, and the very low population sizes occupying Europe at the time, there
was simply an insufficient number of individuals with any rare condition, autism
included, to conceivably produce all the art. Rather he focused his explanation of
the similarities not on Nadia’s autism itself but on her lack of language. He
interpreted the similarities he had noted as potential evidence that the symbolic
and linguistic capacities of European Upper Palaeolithic populations were
limited. Thus Humphrey argued that such populations lacked language, or more
specifically, they lacked a language with names for things other than and beyond
human social relationships (so, for example, that they had no name for bison).
It was to the assertion that Upper Palaeolithic populations lacked full language
that most responses to Humphrey’s paper were addressed, and perhaps rightly
so. The populations that occupied Europe during the last Ice Age were
cognitively and biologically fully modern humans, like ourselves, descendants
by and large from populations leaving Africa after 100,000 years ago. The idea
that such effectively ‘modern’ populations might not have a full capacity for
language seemed rather outlandish.
Debate therefore focused more on language than on autism. Nevertheless, a
discussion of autism and Ice Age art began to be aired. Alongside others, Paul
Bahn, one of the leading international expert on Palaeolithic art, did not accept
any necessary link between exceptional talent in art (autistic or otherwise) and a
lack of verbal ability. He noted (after Treffert 1989) that the abilities of other
talented autistic artists today are unaffected by their verbal abilities. It is
certainly the case that similar skills based on a perceptual bias towards precision,
an interest in superimposition and extremely accurate rendition from memory are
evident in the art of other gifted autistic artists, such as Peter Myers (Myers,
Baron-Cohen, and Wheelwright 2004) and Stephen Wiltshire (Wiltshire and
Casson 1987; Wiltshire 1989; Wiltshire 1991). Wiltshire, for example, can draw
to scale and in perspective in quick succession a view of all of New York after a
20-minute helicopter ride. Neither of these artists suffered any linguistic deficits
as adults. Indeed, the loss of special skills is an exception rather than the rule in
the case of artists with autism (Treffert 2009). Bahn even acknowledged that
there are likely to have been individuals with autism in the Palaeolithic and,
moreover, that the similarities which Humphrey outlined between features of
European Upper Palaeolithic art and the art made by talented autistic artists
required further quantification. Nevertheless, autism was far less of a focus in
these discussions than Humphrey’s suggestions of a limited verbal ability in Ice
Age artists.
Whilst the specific and immediate responses to Humphrey’s argument became
mired in debates about language, the relationship between such art and traits of
autism in general did not go unnoticed. A second paper in the same year by Julia
Kellman (1998) independently compared Ice Age art – specifically at Chauvet
Cave – with the art of a precocious autistic artist, in this case Jamie, aged 7. Like
Nadia, Jamie had spontaneously begun to draw with extraordinary accuracy at a
very young age. Jamie’s subjects were objects or architecture, and occasionally
people. Kellman also recognised many similar features in Jamie’s art and that in
the European Upper Palaeolithic – not only an outstanding observational skill,
but also use of perspective, foreshortening and a primary concern with vigorous
outline to which colour and hue are secondary. Kellman related these features
not to any lack of language but to ways of seeing associated with autism. She
drew on the insights of a scientist with autism, Temple Grandin, of her highly
visual memory, and her tendency, in her words, to ‘think in pictures’ which
allows her to design engineering solutions for problems in abattoir design.
Grandin explains:

when I do an equipment simulation in my imagination or work on an

engineering problem, it is like seeing a videotape in my mind, I can view it
from any angle, placing myself above or below the equipment and rotating
it at the same time... I create new images all the time by taking many little
part of images I have in the video library in my imagination and piecing
them together. I have video memories of every item I have ever worked
with. (Grandin 1995, 21; quoted in Kellman 1998, 126).

Significantly for Kellman, the similarities between both art forms are explained
by a similarity of attention to the initial visual experience, the shared
significance of visual memory, and the importance of accurately and precisely
capturing a specific visual experience which might link talented artists with
autism to the artists of prehistory.
Debate slowly developed. At a presentation at the Lisbon autism conference in
2003, Paul Tréhin (2003) noted the same similarities in both forms of art as had
Humphrey, but now suggested that talented artists with autism or traits of autism
might have spurred on the art, with imitators reproducing the same style. Our
first author, Penny, later re-ignited the debate with a paper on the potential
influence of different cognitive styles on human evolutionary resilience, with
autism explored as an important example (Spikins 2009). Autism, she suggested,
might have provided important skills which helped evolutionary success. Penny
interpreted the traits of autism seen in Upper Palaeolithic art as due to the
influence of individuals with autism.
Some Upper Palaeolithic art does clearly show traits comparable with art made
by individuals with autism, such as a focus on parts rather than wholes,
overlapping forms (also known as embedded figures), a notable realism and
attention to precise detail. The right hand panel of engravings (nearly 3m in
length) at Les Trois Frères, for example (figure 1.7), is a good illustration of the
kind of complex overlapping forms that we often see in the art produced by
individuals with autism.

Figure 1.7. Panel of engravings at the right hand wall of the sanctuary at Les Trois Frères, France,
showing complex overlapping animal forms.
The general academic response to date, however, has been that there must be
some other explanation than any relationship to autism.

Counter-arguments: explanations other than autism?

Few people agreed that there might be some relationship between autism and Ice
Age art. Counter-arguments were put forward by Pickard et al. (2011) and
Bednarik (2013). Pickard et al. argued that autism is a disorder, associated with
social deficits which would prevent individuals from making a contribution to
society without modern medical and educational support. In short, they felt that
people with autism couldn’t have been supported by communities in the past,
and even if such individuals appeared sporadically they would not be influential
or make a contribution. Bednarik (2013) further argued that the incorporation of
vulnerable members of society occurred too late to have influenced Palaeolithic
art. Pickard et al. (2011) discounted the influence of autism on Upper
Palaeolithic art, attributing the similarities to the influence of psychotropic
drugs, whilst Bednarik (2013) ascribed the same traits to sensory deprivation and
trance.
Should we discard apparent similarities between the art of talented individuals
with autism and that of the European Ice Age as merely coincidence?
We argue that there is something significant to explain about the relationship
between the art of talented individuals with autism and Ice Age art.
As regards available support and contribution, as we shall see in chapter three
the support available to individuals with autism and their integration is likely to
have been much greater than Pickard et al. (2011) argue. Prehistoric
communities were clearly remarkably willing to support those in need.
Moreover, the kind of support that allows individuals with autism to fit into
modern society is not likely to have been relevant or needed in societies in the
past, where many of the demands which create anxieties and challenges for
individuals with autism are likely to have been absent.
As regards explaining traits of autism in art through psychotropic drugs or trance
states, these alternative explanations are difficult to support. Psychotropic drugs
have attracted attention as an explanation for enhanced visual perception.
Humphrey, for example, notes that mescaline has been linked to a kind of
perceptual innocence and intensity of visual experience (Humphrey 2002).
However, neither psychotropic drugs nor trance states provide adequate
explanations for the exceptional talent and realism seen in Upper Palaeolithic art.
Talented artists need to be aware of details when they see them (that is, when
encountering animals) and not just for a few minutes in a cave, and they also
need to be in a state of mind in which they are able to draw and paint accurately
(and not just feel a certain intensity of visual experience). Neither psychotopic
drugs nor trance states induced by sensory deprivation induce exceptional
abilities or a capacity to accurately depict what has been seen (Tréhin 2003).
Indeed, the act (or ‘craft’) of the drawing or painting itself is not really the key
point about exceptionally talented artists; what seems to really matter is (as
noted by Kellman) that they perceive and remember details in a unique way –
the act of depiction being an extension of these thoughts rather than a skill ‘in
the moment’.
However there are several reasons why equating traits of autism in art with
individuals with autism as the creators of such art would be overly simplistic.
Firstly, it is easy to exaggerate the similarities between European Upper
Palaeolithic art and that of talented individuals with autism. Art made by
individuals with autism is often highly realistic. However images of horses at
Lascaux cave (figure 1.8), for example, have exaggerated – rather than
realistically drawn – features, with small heads and feet and extended stomachs,
and whole animals, rather than parts are depicted (figure 1.9). Furthermore,
much of the art is far from a representation of what has been seen – there are
many enigmatic symbols and even invented creatures (such as the ‘unicorn’ at
Lascaux) or combinations of people and animals (such as the bird headed man in
the Lascaux shaft scene). Many artists with autism do draw images which are
composites of different beings or fantastical figures but a focus on accurate
depiction of a visual experience is more typical. Moreover in many caves there is
relatively little superimposition of forms (figure 1.9).
Figure 1.8. Painting of a horse at Lascaux which doesn’t show a focus on parts, nor superimposition of
forms, nor accurate rendition (the horse’s head and legs are reduced in size and the stomach enlarged).
Figure 1.9. Bison from the cave of La Covaciella, Spain, each animal is depicted as a single form without
superimposition, and with exaggerated – rather than realistic – features.

There may be other explanations which lie beyond autism for some of the
similarities. Many cases of superimposition reflect a lack of available or suitable
cave wall for drawing, for example. In the case of portable art or engravings in
caves, superposition of forms may simply reflect that engraved lines from
previous depictions have become dull and are no longer visible, whilst new lines
appear bright and are easily seen. Perhaps most significantly, in some cases
depictions have been created with several heads or legs to give a deliberate
cinematic effect under the flickering lights of lamps or torches, and so reflect a
deliberate intention to convey motion rather than a focus on part or a
superimposition of forms. This rather clever deliberate style of animation has
been called a ‘pre-echo’ of cinema (Azéma and Rivère 2012). The lions painted
at Chauvet Cave (figure 1.10), or the swimming stags at Lascaux (figure 1.11),
may show the repetition of overlapping forms seen in Nadia’s art because they
were deliberately drawn in this way to give a sensation of seeing a moving
animal under the flickering light of the cave.
Clearly we need to understand more about the context of Ice Age art to better
understand the relationship to traits of autism.

Figure 1.10. Frieze of lions at Chauvet cave, which may have been drawn to give an impression of
movement under flickering light.
 Figure 1.11. Swimming stags at Lascaux Cave, which may represent either several individual stags or a
single stag in motion.

The bigger picture – setting cave art in context

A better understanding of the big picture, the wider context of art and of society
in the Ice Age, may help make sense of the issues.
One of the most obvious hindrances to our understanding is that we tend to draw
inappropriate parallels between Ice Age depictions and our understanding of ‘art’
today. For people in modern western societies, ‘art’ is something which stands
outside society, created by individuals who we see as possessing some unique
and unusual ability. Art is something which we visit in museums, and which is
bought and sold, and artists themselves often cultivate this air of having a
mysterious ability which is unavailable to others. We tend to see art as the
product of ‘genius’ (even though for most artists their ‘talent’ is 99% hard work,
learning and practice). The level of skill seen in Ice Age art, standing in contrast
to our perception of stone age society, seems to demand an explanation in terms
of exceptional talent (autistic or otherwise). Indeed, Ice Age art is often
discussed in isolation from the archaeology of the period, as if it is so separate
from society that we need not even refer to the people who made it in order to
understand the art. As a result, we end up focusing on a supposed link between
what seems to us ‘high art’ and artists as individuals separated from society.
Archaeological evidence suggests that in the Palaeolithic, artistic depiction of
animals was very much part of everyday life, rather than an act removed from
the everyday or created by individuals outside of society. Cave art has drawn our
attention, as the art found in caves is unique for the conditions of preservation
found in these locations, with the pigments and colours surviving to today in the
unique conditions found deep in caves. However, cave art is only the tip of the
iceberg of Ice Age art. The walls of rock shelters where people lived were often
decorated with art, of which only the engraved lines remain today, and their
possessions were typically highly decorated. We see sophisticated art on animal
ribs (figure 1.12) on pebbles (figure 1.13) and on all kinds of functional objects
(such as spear throwers, figure 1.14, or chisels, figure 1.15). Depicting animals
in a detailed and highly realistic way seems very much part of how these
populations engaged with the world around them, and the separation between art
and society which we see today seems then not to have existed.
Figure 1.12. Reindeer engraved on a rib from the site of Courbet, Southern France.
Figure 1.13. Bison drawn on water worn pebble from the site of Montrastruc, southern France.
 Figure 1.14. Spear-thrower shaped as a mammoth, from the site of Montrastruc, France.

Figure 1.15. Decorated antler chisel from the site of Courbet Cave, southern France.

More than this, there is good evidence that artistic skill was typically learnt,
rather than being the work of ‘natural genius’, and children may have begun to
draw at an early age. At Rouffignac Cave we find finger tracings made by
children, and in some cases adults lifted the children so that they could draw in
higher places (Sharpe and Van Gelder 2004; Van Gelder and Sharpe 2009), and
there is evidence of children creating art in other caves (Sharpe and Van Gelder
2006; Guthrie 2005; Bednarik 2008). Also, only the ‘best’ (as we see it) art
reaches the public gaze today. Much of the actual art is rather less sophisticated
than that which we are used to seeing, which implies that many of the artists had
spent time learning to draw (rather than having an immediate talent). We know
that some of the lithic technology of the period reflects a lifetime of practice
(Sinclair 2015), and the same may be true of the art, going some way to
explaining the extraordinary skill of some Ice Age artists.
As we have seen, rather than being something highly unusual and exceptional
and outside of normal social relationships, Ice Age art is found everywhere, and
largely involved everyone. We may think of art as something produced by
exceptional geniuses, who are isolated from society, and often think of talented
individuals with autism in the same terms. However, art in the Ice Age was very
much part of society.
Consequently, any explanation for characteristics of the art which seem similar
to art drawn by modern day individuals with autism needs to come from within
communities, and to be drawn from the usual rather than the exceptional.
When we consider the bigger picture, however, we also see that traits of autism
are not limited to cave art, or even just to art. Other interesting features are
evident in Ice Age portable art, which has received much less attention than cave
art. This portable art illustrates certain similarities with an autistic vision which
is also evident in cave art (such as a superimposition of forms, sometimes very
cleverly integrated on the same piece of bone or rock). However, there are also
other novel features of particular interest which are not seen in cave art. The
‘Palaeolithic map’ from Abauntz Cave in northern Spain, for example, is
remarkable (Utrilla et al. 2009). This small plaquette depicts the local landscape
around the cave, showing rivers, mountains and the locations of different game
animals. It shows an ability to manipulate our experience of the world as a three
dimensional model seen from a different angle which is reminiscent of the art of
Stephen Wiltshire. Other artefacts show calendrical or astronomical notation
recording natural cycles in a way which is reminiscent of both the remarkable
abilities to analyse physical systems seen in autism, and a drive to record them
(Baron-Cohen 2009). Perhaps the most remarkable of all these objects is the
Abri Blanchard plaquette, (figure 1.16), which shows the phases of the moon
and its position in the sky. Creating this plaquette must have involved setting up
a coordinate system and recording the position and shape of the moon every
night. Records of predictable patterns are frequently a source of comfort to
individuals with autism (Goodchild 2010).
 Figure 1.16. The Abri Blanchard plaquette, showing the phases of the moon and its position in the sky.

Though it is in the cave art of Ice Age Europe that an autistic vision has been
discussed, these developments also have a wider context of a range of new types
of artefacts in even earlier periods that remain to be explained.
Other artefacts which provide evidence of a remarkably analytical view of the
world appear at an earlier date outside Europe, following the emergence of our
species in Africa around 150,000 years ago. Whilst we can’t relate new, more
analytical, experimental and standardised technologies to autism per se, there
were clearly social changes taking place which encouraged new ways of seeing
the world and new types of technological adaptation. In southernmost south
Africa, for example, we see the use of complex compound adhesives appearing
around 70,000 years ago. These adhesives, used to fix stone points to their hafts,
reflect a complex understanding of how different substances react together
which probably derived from experimentation (Wadley, Hodgskiss, and Grant
2009). We also see the appearance of other new technology, such as a
standardised heat treatment of flint raw materials (Brown et al. 2009) and the
new appearance of tiny and highly standardised microlithic technology (figure
1.17) (Henshilwood and Dubreuil 2011; Igreja and Porraz 2013/9), as well as
other developments, such as innovative methods of hunting (Spikins 2009) and
the development of poisons (d’Errico et al. 2012). These developments appear,
but then disappear again in the archaeological record, reflecting a cultural
capacity to analyse, invent, design and focus on minute details which seems not
always to be expressed. As we shall see in the next chapter, a natural ‘intuitive
physics’, a concern with detail, an understanding of systems, and a drive to
understand natural systems are characteristics commonly associated with autism
(Baron-Cohen 2009).
 Figure 1.17. Microliths, tiny and highly standardised bladelets with backed edges, come into the
archaeological record after 100,000 years ago. They rely on highly precise flint working and are designed
to create maintainable weapons, with each microlith a replaceable point on a long shaft.

It would be far-fetched to imagine that it was individuals with autism who

created most of the corpus of Ice Age art, or invented hunting technology, maps
or calendrical systems. However these elements of material culture reflect
something of an autistic vision and talent. A convincing explanation for the
relationship between some features of Ice Age art and other material culture
(both that found in cave and that of everyday life) with autistic vision and
understanding has yet to be articulated.
Clearly precision and a perception and rendition of detail were skills which were
held in high esteem in some past societies.

A final twist to the mystery

The relationship between Ice Age art and traits of autism is clearly not
straightforward, but neither is it easy to dismiss as mere coincidence.
In 2015 we added an interesting twist to the question. We set up an exhibition
and talk on some of our research, including that on Upper Palaeolithic art. As
part of the exhibition we brought along replicas of plaquettes from Montrastruc
Cave, France, studied by Andy Needham as part of his PhD, which, like many
items of portable art, shows many overlapping images which can be very
difficult to decipher. Andy has studied the line order of the art and relationship
between each of the images in detail.

Figure 1.18. Plaquette number 662 from Montrastruc. The original is very difficult to decipher; however,
this illustration showing the different horses in different orientations engraved on the plaquette is
highlighted in black to make them easier to identify.
Many people in the audience had autism. Whereas to most people the fine lines
on this stone were simply curving squiggles, these audience members found it
easy to ‘see’ different animals cleverly arranged around the plaquettes. On the
one hand this is not surprising: as we shall see in the next chapter, an ability to
see ‘embedded figures’ (hidden shapes) is one of the enhanced skills associated
with autism. On the other hand, this is quite remarkable, as it implies that some
individuals with autism have an immediate understanding of some Palaeolithic
art – almost an affinity – which art specialists may take a lifetime to ‘get an eye
for’.
The implication is that Upper Palaeolithic art shows not only a relationship to
traits of autism in how it was produced, but also in how it can be deciphered.
We could not help but wonder if there is a deeper and more important story –
one in which European Ice Age art was simply the tip of the iceberg.
To unpick that story, we need to understand the skills and deficits which autism
brings, as well as understanding past hunter-gatherer communities and the ways
they may have integrated autistic individuals.

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 CHAPTER TWO: New perspectives on
autism
In chapter one, we noted that traits of autism in certain archaeological evidence
from distant periods in our evolutionary history are difficult to explain. We also
noted that it has been argued that if autism is a ‘disorder’ it could not have been
supported in past societies (Pickard et al. 2011) and, moreover, individuals with
autism would not have been able to make a social contribution.
Depicting autism as a disorder encourages negative thinking about individuals
with autism. It seems more appropriate to understand autism as a difference,
bringing with it both strengths and well as weaknesses. From this perspective,
the skills and talents associated with autism may have played a significant role in
the survival of past communities.
We start by considering the association between autism and ‘disorder’,
‘disability’ and ‘difference’. We then look at recent research suggesting that
autism is best seen as a cognitive difference reflecting an element of natural
human variation, and bringing with it differences in perception which lead not
only to weaknesses but also to a range of talents and skills. There may be
advantages to a certain ‘turning away’ from complex social and emotional
understanding. We propose a new definition of autism which might help us to
understand the role of individuals with autism in society.

Disability, disorder, difference and autism

Autism is sometimes a disability. For some people, autism brings with it a need
for extensive support, and maintaining their status as an individual with a
disability is important to accessing the support and services which they require
(Jaarsma and Welin 2012).
Autism was certainly a disability for the earliest diagnosed cases of autism.
These earliest identified individuals were instances of by far the most
debilitating cases of the condition – children who could not relate to those
around them, often suffering congenital defects or brain trauma, and thus
presenting also a range of other conditions. In effect, a selection bias was
operating, with only the most disabled being identified as autistic. Individuals
who stood out because of intellectual disability or other conditions as well as
autism were more likely to be identified with the condition. Thus in the 1970s
the mean IQ of individuals diagnosed with autism was only 60 (Hollin 2014).
We now know that there is no necessary relationship between autism and IQ –
and individuals with autism can have any IQ across the full possible range. The
current World Health Organisation definitions do not require any specific IQ
level or cut off in the diagnosis of autism. However, because for much of the
twentieth century the term autism described clearly disabled individuals with
notable intellectual impairments, there has been a lasting effect on public
perceptions of the term. Even today people with autism may be seen as ‘extreme
others’, outside society (Murray 2008).
Autism associated with intellectual disability is not the most typical form of the
condition. In fact, it seems to be associated with particular genetic conditions –
de novo (spontaneously occurring) mutations – which make up only 30% of
cases of autism (Lossifov et al. 2014; Ronemus et al. 2014). This spontaneously
occurring autism seems to be an integral part of the human genome, associated
with its capacity to adapt, and shared with other apes (Marques-Bonet and
Eichler 2009; Dumas et al. 2012; Gualtieri 2014). In other words, autism is
likely to have been part of human evolution from the very start.
The more common form of autism, however, is not associated with intellectual
disability (Lossifov et al. 2014; Ronemus et al. 2014). Autism without
intellectual disability (often referred to as Asperger Syndrome) does not
necessarily require specific accommodations or support (Baron-Cohen 2000).
Indeed the condition is highly heritable, occurring frequently in certain
professions such as physicists, engineers and mathematicians (Baron-Cohen et
al. 1998), for whom we can infer that some level of traits of autism may be an
advantage (Baron-Cohen 2012, Ruzich, Allison, Chakrabarti, et al. 2015). Indee
the neurodiversity movement argue that autism should no longer be considered a
‘disorder’ (or disability) but instead part of natural human variation (Baker 2006;
Fenton and Krahn 2009; Jaarsma and Welin 2012; Kapp et al. 2013; Runswick-
Cole 2014).
A social model of disability suggests that society and the environmental
constraints established by society for its majority members are the things that
disable people who are different from that majority (Jaarsma & Welin, 2012).
We shall see in chapter three that even where autism presents a clear disability,
individuals with autism are likely to have been supported and cared for in human
societies in the distant past. In chapter four, however, we turn to considering how
individuals with autism without any intellectual impairment may have developed
certain roles and contributions.

A change in understanding
Clearly what autism implies and how it is used diagnostically has undergone a
radical transformation since people were first diagnosed with the condition in the
1940s (Matson and Kozlowski 2011; Evans 2013).
Autism is no longer a rare or necessarily disabling condition. Indeed there was
something of an ‘epidemic’ of autism in the 1990s (Eyal 2010), after which
autism has come to be seen as occurring in at least 1% of the population (Baird
et al. 2006; Baron-Cohen, Scott, et al. 2009). This awareness of greater
prevalence is due to extended diagnostic criteria, improved training of
professionals, better recognition of traits of autism, and reduced stigma in many
societies.
An earlier conception of autism as necessarily an asocial condition, implying
that individuals with autism are somehow outside of normal social relationships,
has also changed.
Psychological perspectives have revealed that most adults on the autism
spectrum often have an understanding of others which is far more complex than
was previously assumed. Particularly in the case of those with autism without
intellectual impairment (or Asperger syndrome) this social understanding is
typically fully good enough to manage in most social situations. Research has
often focused on such individuals (although many might more typically today be
described more generally as having an autism spectrum condition). Individuals
diagnosed with Asperger syndrome (sometimes referred to in the research as
High Functioning Autism) have been found to be much more socially integrated
than had once been assumed. They use their intelligence to interpret the world
around them and interact with the world using a range of strategies.
One example concerns the relationship between autism and what has been
termed ‘theory of mind’ (ToM). Our ToM describes our abilities to infer the
beliefs and motivations of others, and if we have several ‘orders’ of ToM we can
make interpretations not just about the beliefs of one person but about what one
person believes about another (or what they believe about another besides).
Contrary to the idea that individuals on the autism spectrum have no theory of
the mind’s abilities, individuals with Asperger syndrome who were tested tended
to pass theory of mind tests (only clearly failing at the level of second order
theory of mind, i.e. ‘Y believes that X believes this’; Baron-Cohen 1989). Whilst
others may develop a fluid intuitive theory of mind, such individuals may base
their understanding of how people feel and behave on the basis of patterns and
rules instead. However, this works well enough in most situations.
Most individuals with autism are now likely to be within society, and fully able
to follow social rules, even if tending to do so analytically rather than intuitively
(Baron-Cohen 2006). In western society, most young people with autism attend
mainstream educational institutions, albeit with additional support. Indeed, one
is typically unaware from casual acquaintance that someone with autism without
marked intellectual impairment is cognitively different in any way, and
individuals with autism can have high levels of role and function in society
(Howlin 2000), particularly in spheres such as engineering, mathematics,
physics, information technology and law (Rodman 2003; Fitzgerald 2004;
Fitzgerald and O’Brien 2007). Many argue that significant historical figures in
science had autism (Fitzgerald 2004; Fitzgerald and O’Brien 2007), and it isn’t
difficult to imagine their influence in the much more distant past. Contrary to
portrayals of isolated individuals, research into individuals with Asperger
syndrome has illustrated that they typically form partnerships and have children
(Baron-Cohen et al. 1998; Lau and Peterson 2011).
Rather than seeing autism as associated with being asocial, anthropological
perspectives stress that autism should be seen as a condition of being differently
social (Ochs and Solomon 2010; Grinker 2010), that is to say, fully social people
but social in subtly different ways. Individuals with autism tend to be selective
about the way that they socialise (Bauminger et al. 2008). They often prefer
different styles of social engagement, such as, for example, a focus on
discussions of scientific and analytical perspectives with colleagues or specific
shared interests with friends. Moreover, they often use material culture or
technology to communicate mathematical or scientific concepts (Ochs and
Solomon 2010; Grinker 2010) rather than face-to-face sharing of narratives or
emotional displays (Fitzgerald and O’Brien 2007; Baron-Cohen 2012). However,
individuals with autism have friends, and contribute to society, often being
highly valued.
What we think of as being social or even sociable can be biased by expectations
from the majority. Hollin calls into question the highly specified construction of
‘social’ as elaborate skills in immediate one-to-one interpersonal understanding
of motivations, as individuals with autism would not be disadvantaged under
many broader constructions of the term (Hollin 2014). Chown (2014) further
observes that people with neurotypical minds have as much difficulty
understanding an autistic mind as vice versa, which further confounds any
simple inference about a lack of social understanding. The majority of people in
society may value empathy skills and ask why people without autism don’t like
to discuss emotions, but an autistic sociality may be equally as valid, with
autistic people equally puzzled by why others lack a logical, organized approach
to life. If sociality depends on skills in imagining beliefs about the beliefs of
others then individuals with autism have a relative weakness, but under the
rather broader concept of simply doing things with other people and being part
of a society or community and making a contribution to society autistic autism
are as social as others. Thus in all except an unusually specific version of ‘social’
and ‘society’, in which individuals must fully empathise with other’s emotions to
contribute socially, those with autism are fully social.
Clearly, people with autism should be reappraised in terms of their position
within, rather than outside, society. This new way of considering the autistic
mind also begs the question: what was the place of such an interesting mind
within human origins?

Autism as cognitive difference

A focus on underlying cognition, rather than behaviour allows us to more fully
appreciate the inter-relationship between autistic and ‘neurotypical’ minds, and
also to appreciate that some so called autistic behaviours are culturally specific,
defined as a problem only from certain viewpoints, or exacerbated by modern
conditions.
Autism spectrum conditions were traditionally characterised in behavioural
terms as a series of impairments affecting social and emotional behaviours (such
as difficulties in engaging in chit-chat or in working cooperatively),
communication (such as a literal understanding of language), imagination and
flexibility (such as difficulties with empathy, or coping with change) as well as
restricted repetitive patterns of behaviour and intense preoccupations. A primary
focus on restrictions on behaviour, however, depends on cultural ideas of
‘normal’, focuses on the negative elements and also obscures underlying
cognitive features. Although there is considerable variation within the term
‘autism’, it is several key cognitive elements – rather than behaviours – which
unite individuals with autism and explain why the same term can cover
individuals with such a range of abilities. Instead of a suite of ‘abnormal’ social
behaviours, autism is best seen as a cognitive condition related to a greater
extreme of functioning of certain areas of the brain at the expense of others and
which affects perception, understanding and interpretation to varying extents.
Neurological differences have been revealed in neuroimaging studies, and
include differences in certain types of cortical underconnectivity (Courchesne
and Pierce 2005; Just et al. 2007; Minshew and Williams 2007; Just et al. 2012).
Autism affects perception and understanding. For example, autism affects how
people see the world, as individuals with autism share a focus on detail, such
that perceiving the whole, or ‘seeing the wood for the trees’ is more challenging
(Happé and Frith 2006). It also affects focus and understanding. Individuals with
autism perceive the natural and social world in analytical terms, as systems,
rules and patterns to analyse rather than relying on empathising or intuitive
means of interpretation (Baron-Cohen 2009; Brosnan et al. 2014).
Being at the cognitive extreme of attention to detail, and to perception and
understanding of rules and systems, brings both benefits and challenges. Though
often exceptional at understanding predictable patterns, and driven towards
understanding lawful patterns or ‘truths’ about the world, those with autism can
also be ‘disabled’ by systems whose changes do not follow laws (Baron-Cohen
2008). Understanding physics depends on understanding systems and rules and
this is a realm in which individuals with autism often excel, whereas
understanding complex emotional interactions depends on intuition, with
individuals with autism typically finding these realms more much challenging.
Temple Grandin notes, for example:

During the last couple of years I have become more aware of a kind of
electricity that goes on between people. I have observed that when several
people are together and having a good time their speech and laughter follow
a rhythm. They will all laugh together then talk quietly until the next
laughing cycle. I have always had a hard time fitting in with this rhythm,
and I usually interrupt conversations without realising my mistake. The
problem is that I can’t follow the rhythm. (Grandin 1995, 91)

Whilst Temple’s scientific talents are highly valued, she finds intuitive emotional
situations difficult to understand given their lack of rules or patterns.
Individuals on the autism spectrum vary greatly in their social functioning.
However, the common cognitive basis for the condition explains why a
fascination with detail and systems leads us to find at one end of a spectrum of
functioning a child with a notable disability and low IQ sitting for many hours
watching an object spin or arranging objects by size, while at the other end, now
the more common manifestation, we find a brilliant engineer, whose high IQ,
analytical mind and unique focus leads to great insight and contributions.
The abilities of individuals diagnosed with autism can also change considerably
during their lifetime even though their cognitive style remains the same. Temple
Grandin, for example, was judged severely disabled by her condition as a child.
She didn’t talk until she was three and a half, struggled with her emotions,
tended to scream and lose her temper and was diagnosed with autism. As an
adult, however, Grandin functions fully in society, she is a regular contributor to
scientific journals, has published many books, and is a strong advocate of the
importance of a supportive environment for enabling individuals with autism to
thrive. Her case also illustrates that despite the strong association of autism with
males, many women also have autism. Women with autism clearly also make a
significant social contribution, often drawing on their strengths in subtly
culturally defined ways (Gould and Ashton-Smith 2011).
Focusing on cognition (rather than behaviour) removes many of our cultural
impositions. However, there are clearly elements of a cultural imposition at play
in identifying the point on the spectrum at which ‘neurotypical’ becomes
‘autistic’. This is so even when we focus on cognitive terms and on which
particular selected traits constitute disorder rather than unusual focus or talent.
Who we include within the term autism is affected by where we place a
threshold along a continuum of traits related to cognitive characteristics which is
also influenced by prevalent attitudes.

Cognitive difference, autism and natural human variation

Rather than seeing autism as a disorder many now argue that it is more
constructive to see autism as part of normal human variation – lying at the
extreme minds in terms of both a perception of detail and focus on rules and
systems. If this is the case we would expect, at least for our own species
(emerging after 150,000 years ago), that individuals with autism were present
everywhere in small numbers in the distant past. Their presence and influence
might explain the traits seen in archaeological evidence in chapter one.
What evidence is there to support this view?
Firstly, autism is influenced by many genes, creating no particular ‘cut-off’ point
(Robinson et al. 2016) but rather a continuous variation in human populations.
This suggests that autism should be seen as a dimension rather than a disorder
(Plomin, Haworth, and Davis 2009), and moreover is not a simple single
condition. It isn’t difficult to see that the ‘special interests’ of those diagnosed
with autism may be regarded as the more extreme end on a continuum of
interests regarded as ‘hobbies’ (Caldwell-Harris and Jordan 2014).
Secondly, traits of autism are normally distributed, with those with autism
merely lying at an extreme. The threshold between autism and what is
considered ‘normal’ sits on a continuum of strengths and difficulties in social
and communication related behaviour (Skuse et al. 2009; Constantino and Todd
2003) and is as much a component of human population structure as height, with
similar continuous variation found cross culturally (Wakabayashi et al. 2007).
Above a certain point along the cognitive continuum captured and simplified
from several elements by the Social Communication Disorders Checklist (Skuse
et al. 2009) or the Social Responsiveness Scale (Constantino and Todd 2003) or
the Autism Quotient or AQ (Baron-Cohen et al. 2001) one may be considered to
be sufficiently far along the spectrum of cognitive difference to be autistic.
As part of a project at York we took a sample of 557 students from York
University, assessed as part of the ‘Lost in Translation: Autism and material
culture’ project. We can see their typical continuous variation in AQ scores for
example (figure 2.1), a distribution which is also seen in samples of over 6,000
people across the population as a whole (Ruzich, Allison, Smith, et al. 2015).
Figure 2.1. AQ scores of 557 randomly selected undergraduate students at York University, showing autism
cut off point.

In some subject areas, particularly those where these interests and skills are most
valued, there are greater numbers of individuals with autism. Thus in a study of
454 science and technology students at Cambridge University, Baron-Cohen
(2001) found that 4.6% scored in the range suggestive of an autistic spectrum
condition according to the Autism Quotient, with 80% of those meeting
objective diagnostic criteria.
Baron-Cohen notes that the individuals in the Cambridge study who were in the
range associated with an autism spectrum condition did not register discontent or
suffering. He notes:

None of those meeting criteria complained of any current unhappiness.

Indeed, many of them reported that within a university setting their desire
not to be sociable, together with their desire to pursue their narrow or
repetitive interests (typically mathematics and computing) was not
considered odd, and was even valued… (Baron-Cohen et al. 2001, 12)

Autism can clearly be associated with compensatory advantages that can be

valued in certain contexts.
Could these advantages have played a role in the distant past?

Advantages of autism in certain contexts?

Autism certainly brings difficulties and disadvantages. Life can be challenging
for people with the condition, who may find large groups of people or
emotionally charged situations difficult and stressful, and have anxieties relating
to change (Goodchild 2010). Families and friends may find a lack of complex
emotional understanding difficult, and parents of children with autism often need
additional support (Rodman 2003).
However, does autism itself confer particular advantages? And could having
individuals with autism within society foster certain important skills and
specialisations?
Recent research has illustrated that special talents, as well as skills in technical
and social realms are common in autism.

Talents in autism
Whilst talents or ‘savant’ skills used to be considered rare, it has become clear
they are actually remarkably common. Superior abilities in identifying
embedded figures (figure 1.4) and in block design (three-dimensional
technological design) had been recognised since the 1980s (Shah and Frith 1983;
Shah and Frith 1993), but recent years have seen our understanding of the
‘talents’ in autism expand significantly.

Figure 2.2. Example of an embedded figures test – individuals with autism find it easier to identify the
figure on the left within the right on the right than do neurotypical controls.

The proportion of individuals with autism possessing savant skills have been
increasingly recognised as research methods improve. In 1978, Rimland
conducted a postal survey with parents of autistic children, which concluded that
around 10% of autistic children had savant skills, over half of these having
several special skills (Rimland 1978; Rimland and Fein 1988). More recently,
however, Howlin et al. (2009) concluded that unusual skills are found in at least
a third of individuals with autism, with the most common exceptional skills
found in realms such as block design and object assembly. Most recently,
Meilleur et al. (2015) studied over two hundred and fifty individuals (including
adults) and concluded that the figure is even higher, with the prevalence of
Special Isolated Skills (SIS) put at 62.5%.
Savant talents are found in several different realms. In the study of Howlin et al.,
of the 137 randomly selected individuals with autism, savant skills included
computational (listed as ‘easily able to multiply two numbers in the millions
together in head; can tell the elevation of both the Sun and the Moon at any time
on any date without reference to any book’), calendrical (‘could tell people what
day of the week their birthday would occur and what day of the week they were
born on’), memory ( ‘a few years ago, he was bought a book which was read to
him; this year we read it to him again after over a year – if we stopped he would
finish the rest of the sentence quite accurately’), visuospatial (‘successful in
painting portraits of friends, friends’ children and selling them’) and musical
(‘has perfect pitch and is able to identify chords in pieces of music with ease’),
with some showing savant skills in several of these domains (Howlin et al.
2009). The exceptional abilities of five of those studied (four relating to maths
and one relating to visuospatial ability) were particularly useful to them as their
source of employment. Special skills, such as lightning multiplication,
identification of prime numbers, calendar calculation, perfect-perspective
drawing, absolute pitch, instant reproduction of newly heard music and
extraordinary memory of facts, are far more common amongst individuals with
autism than in any other group examined to date (Treffert 2009).

Technological Realms
Research suggests that a cognitive focus common to autism is the driving force
for certain talents. A cognitive bias towards fine detail is a central element, with
individuals developing a high degree of motivation around specific topics.
Happé and Vital (2009), for example, demonstrate a close relationship between a
perceptual focus on detail and exceptional talents. Moreover, a certain mind-
blindness coupled with restricted self-awareness limiting social focus or concern
with other’s views removes distractions and reputation related inhibitors. Happé
and Vital note: ‘The combination of detail focus as starting engine and reduced
mentalizing as “fuel” may give a special flavour, independence and true
originality to talent in ASC that is hard to find in other groups’ ( Happé and Vital
2009, 1373). Baron-Cohen et al. (2009) further argue that alongside a
hypersensitivity to detail, the trait of hyper-systemising, a notable drive to
understand complex patterns, also drives the widespread expression of talents in
autism.
Individuals with autism as a group, irrespective of savant skills, are now known
to also display enhanced abilities in a wide range of realms. As well as
previously researched skills in identifying embedded figures and in block design,
individuals with autism as a whole have enhanced skills in areas such as
mathematics (Luculano et al. 2014), music, with better memory for pitch, and
with absolute pitch being more common (Heaton 2009), visual perception, such
as perceiving detail (Smith and Milne 2009) as well as heightened touch (Baron-
Cohen, Ashwin, et al. 2009) and olfactory sensitivity (Lane et al. 2010).
What is also evident is that the cognitive traits associated with individuals with
autism are disadvantageous or advantageous compared to the norm dependant on
context. Finding a figure hidden in a mass of confusing lines will tend to be
easier for someone with autism than someone who is neurotypical, as we saw in
chapter one with the complex lines in an Ice Age art plaquette. However, culture
and context dictate whether this is a respected, valued or useful trait, or indeed
whether it is even noticed at all.
Distinctive skills can be seen as complementary to the cognitive processing of
those who are neurotypical. For example, at only eighteen months of age,
children with autism will prefer to look at geometric shapes, which they are
drawn to, and are driven to understand. This turning away from the social is seen
as a social deficit, and indeed individuals with autism do face social challenges,
such as finding it harder to correctly identify complex facial expressions (Tanaka
et al. 2012). However, a focus away from the social and towards objects is
evidently related to enhanced technological focus and skills.
The thinking style of autism is also an advantage when trying to understand
complex physical systems, and those who are neurotypical have to learn to
overcome our intuition and think more in the style of autism in order to develop
such understanding. Indeed, most of us have considerable experience of how
intuition is a hindrance in understanding physical systems (Brosnan et al. 2014).
As a simple example, it makes intuitive sense that the earth should be flat, or that
the sun should revolve around the earth, and modern cosmological
understanding begins with overcoming intuition; far easier for autistic people for
whom intuition was never a barrier to understanding. Up against the cognitive
limits of our evolved minds, such as in dealing with concepts like infinity, those
with autism are at an advantage. Many of our scientific insights depend on
strictly following analytical thinking rather than common sense, with individuals
with autism particularly gifted in what Baron-Cohen terms ‘folk physics’
(Baron-Cohen 2000).
A focus on objects may also create subtle differences in engagements in other
ways. Words with emotional connotations are processed differently by
individuals with autism. For example, significant differences were found
between responses to the words ‘hug’ and ‘adore’. Neurotypical individuals
respond in terms of a self-referential and emotional response whilst individuals
with autism respond neurologically to the physical (impersonal semantic
abstract-physical) properties of these words (Just et al. 2014). However, no
differences were found between individuals with autism and neurotypical
individuals in terms of responses to words related to tools or buildings
(Shinkareva et al. 2008). In some contexts, such as discussions about physical
objects, autism doesn’t necessarily have an impact, whilst in other contexts,
which require a more in depth emotional understanding, it does. This finding
may explain why objects often provide a bridge between autistic and
neurotypical ways of seeing the world, and provide a shared means of
communication (Solomon 2010). It may not be too fanciful to suggest that the
emergence of certain objects, like the maps and calendrical systems we saw in
chapter one, was influenced by autistic ways of perceiving the world, and
moreover that such objects may have played a role in providing a link between
different minds.
Even in small populations, individuals with autism within Upper Palaeolithic
societies would contribute a unique focus on detail and unhindered analytical
capacity, which may have been a source of significant skills. Indeed, Happé and
Frith argue that given the advantages that an extreme cognitive focus on detail
can generate, the persistence of such individuals within the gene pool ‘is not
hard to explain’ (Happé and Frith 2006, 16).

Social Realms
It is within the social realm that the disadvantages of an autistic mind are most
usually drawn into focus. Certainly individuals with autism are typically poorer
at interpreting complex emotions and often find large groups or intense social
occasions challenging. An in depth understanding of other’s minds and intimate
engagement with motivations is a particularly successful strategy in intimate
relationships, providing a means of building up high levels of trust and of give
and take (Spikins 2015). Deficits in complex social understanding bring certain
disadvantages – we know that the frequencies of neural activity do not light up
in the same way in the brain when people with Asperger syndrome view
emotions on faces when compared to age, gender, IQ matched controls (Wright
et al. 2012) and understanding of complex emotions are affected.
However, as outlined above, social deficits depend on context, with individuals
with autism being part of societies and not (as often presented) asocial. An
understanding of other’s minds based on rules and experience is usually
sufficient to get along in most social settings, and certainly to form friendships,
develop close relationships and to be part of communities. Moreover, it is clear
that the drive to greater levels of empathising in human evolution can be seen as
part of a complex balance in which alternative strategies to social relationships
can emerge (Devaine, Hollard, and Daunizeau 2014). In other words, empathy is
not always the advantage it might appear (Spikins, Wright and Hodgson, 2016).
An intimate and complex understanding of other’s thoughts and feelings can be
costly. We fully understand others’ minds only by emotionally placing ourselves
in their shoes (Decety et al. 2012), thus mentalising comes at a cost, and the
higher theory of mind abilities it brings are not always advantageous (Devaine,
Hollard, and Daunizeau 2014). Higher levels of empathising have been
suggested to be associated with greater risk of psychosis (Brosnan et al. 2010)
and schizophrenia (Nettle 2006). Perspective taking is also associated with
reduced abilities to resist authoritarian controls (Bègue et al. 2015). Moreover,
whilst perspective taking improves collaboration where it exists, it adds ‘fuel to
the fire’ in competitive contexts, where it becomes ‘do unto others as you think
they will try to do unto you’ (Pierce et al. 2013).
Mentalising can also generate other problems. Those who are neurotypical, for
example, are so driven to identify motivations and feelings that they also see
them in objects and shapes. When playing a turn-taking game with shapes on a
screen they will feel left out and hurt and ashamed if the shapes appear to
exclude them from taking a turn (Eisenberger, Lieberman, and Williams 2003).
Neurotypical individuals will also tend to see and respond to apparent feelings in
material objects, particularly those which look ‘cute’, and are driven to look after
such objects (Spikins 2015) even though such efforts might be better spent on
living things. ‘Failing’ to be driven to infer and react to the imagined mental
states of objects is certainly an advantage in many cases.
Paradoxically, not reacting to the mental states of others can sometimes be a
useful trait. We are often taught to overcome our intuition, training our brain in a
more logical, routine style, such as when being trained to respond to wounded
individuals in a crisis by being analytical, rather than responding to emotional
cues. Individuals with autism are typically described as responding much more
logically and appropriately to crisis (Rodman 2003). Individuals with autism
may also frequently be whistle blowers on cheating or corruption, being less
concerned about their reputation with others and more concerned about
principles. Their greater adherence to social and moral rules may play an
important role in establishing controls on social instability as lower levels of
empathy are also associated with higher degrees of fairness and concern with
justice (Batson et al. 1995), explaining why individuals with Asperger syndrome
or High Functioning Autism tend to be drawn to, amongst other careers, that of
law (Rodman 2003). In a Palaeolithic context we could imagine how individuals
who are concerned with rules could be important in negotiating relationships
between groups.
Understanding the role of autism in the evolutionary past clearly demands that
we move past viewing autism as necessarily always a disadvantage.
One way to do so may be to re-think autism, and even its diagnosis, in terms of a
balance of strengths and weaknesses.

Autism: A strengths and weaknesses model?

Autism has been described as a disability which can severely impact upon
quality of life as defined by neurotypical standards (Lee et al. 2008). Indeed,
autism is defined as a collection of deficits in the latest DSM5 American
Medical Association criteria (see list 1), American Psychiatric Association
(2013).
List 1 – American Psychiatric Association Criteria for Autism Spectrum
Disorders
Persistent deficits in social communication and social interaction across multiple
contexts, as manifested by:

Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity… failure of normal back-and-forth

conversation;… failure to initiate or respond to social interactions.
Deficits in nonverbal communicative behaviours… poorly integrated
verbal and nonverbal communication… abnormalities in eye contact and
body language or deficits in understanding and use of gestures… total lack
 of facial expressions and nonverbal communication.
Deficits in developing, maintaining, and understand relationships…
absence of interest in peers.
Restricted, repetitive patterns of behaviour, interests, or activities, as
manifested by inflexible adherence to routines… rigid thinking patterns.
Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus.
Hyper- or hypo-activity to sensory input.

However, whilst autism is proposed as a series of deficits, as we have argued

above there is considerable research evidence to suggest autism comes with a
number of strengths. As we have seen, these include enhanced understanding in
areas such as mathematics, chemistry, engineering and computing, and enhanced
perception of visual details, touch, smell and musical pitch. Special isolated
skills or talents are often present and are more common than previously thought.
Moreover, people with autism may stand up for right and law even when it is not
in their personal interests.
The prevailing cultural view of autism is a negative one. However, this may have
much to do with a lack of understanding of the strengths which autism brings.
Moreover, perceptions about how to measure a good quality of life (Jaarsma and
Welin 2013) and how people who are ‘social’ are expected to behave influence
perceptions around autism. For example, some of the quality of life questions
asked in diagnosis inquire into abilities to participate in organised activities.
Autistic people would only rarely have encountered any large group in the
distant past, and today may avoid organised activities and large groups of people
but may nonetheless be very productive and happy. These are cultural, and
neurotypically defined assumptions about what good quality of life looks like.
Many people with Asperger syndrome perceive themselves as happy and
productive and as different but not necessarily disabled (Baron-Cohen 2000).
From this perspective one could just as easily write the definitions of autism in a
different, less stigmatising way. For example, they might look like this (see list
2):
List 2 - An alternative set of criteria for autism spectrum disorder
Differences in social communication compared with neuro-typical people such
as:

Logical approach to appraisal of socio-emotional situations.

 Utilitarian approach to the need for communication.
Preference for communicating only when it is necessary to achieve an
outcome (often using written or electronic communication in preference to
verbal and nonverbal communication).
Stronger reliance on environmental information than eye contact and body
language.
Small close group of functional relationships in preference to larger group
of social acquaintances
Differences in patterns of interest and occupation, as manifested by:
Liking for structure and routine.
A tendency to an interest in facts, details, categorisation, patterns, visual or
topographical memory, numeracy and how things work.
Differences in interaction with the sensory environment including ability to
perceive patterns and details that others can’t easily perceive.
A tendency to like rules and logic.

Comparing these two conflicting models it is not difficult to see how the former
may not seem to be adaptive from an evolutionary perspective, but the latter
could be – providing an important complement to neurotypical skills.
To better understand the potential role of autism in the distant past we will
consider the contexts in which the talents associated with autism might have
made an important contribution to hunter-gatherer societies. Before considering
the role of strengths, however, we will in the next chapter consider the capacity
of early human societies to support individuals with vulnerabilities or
weaknesses. Both the support available for weaknesses and roles and
appreciation of strengths play a role in the evolutionary role of individuals with
autism.

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 CHAPTER THREE: Autism and earliest
human origins
Their strengths and deficits do not deny them humanity but, rather, shape their
humanity.
(Grinker 2010, 173)
We saw in chapter one that many assume that individuals with autism were
either not present in human societies in the distant past or, if they were, were
unable to have influence or make any contribution. In chapter two, however, we
saw that the skills and talents possessed by individuals with autism, and the role
of such individuals in society today, argue that autism might be part of natural
human variation and that autism may have played a role in human evolutionary
history.
There is no direct evidence for autism from human remains. However, by
considering the treatment of individuals with weaknesses or differences and the
nature of social relationships along the human evolutionary journey we can
begin to build up a picture of the involvement of difference and diversity in what
makes us human.
We saw in chapter two that for some people autism, particularly when associated
with intellectual disabilities, is a disabling condition, requiring extensive
support. However, for many, if not most, their autism is best seen as a difference
bringing with it weaknesses and challenges but also particular compensatory
strengths. These individuals might sometimes need support in some contexts, but
at other times contribute valued skills and talents.
In this chapter we consider what support and accommodation might have been
available for weaknesses and disabilities which required support in the distant
evolutionary past. We shall see that from the time of our last common ancestor
with chimpanzees, living around 6-8 million years ago, early human societies
developed along their own unique path. The extent of support which might have
been available for any vulnerability is likely to have developed slowly through
time, alongside the social and cognitive abilities to appreciate the autistic talents
we saw in chapter two, and the social means to support particular roles.
We follow in the next chapter by considering where autistic differences and the
autistic extreme of personality variation might have been acknowledged and
appreciated, and when and how individuals with autism could have been able to
hold particular valued roles within communities and contribute to human
evolutionary success.

Ape ancestors, 6-8 million years ago

Genetic research argues that autism occurs right at the very start of the human
evolutionary story, at least 8 million years ago. Genes for autism appear to be
part of the evolvability of the ape and human genome, or its capacity to adapt
(Gualtieri 2014), present due to other cognitive advantages which autism confers
and which mitigate the costs (Marques-Bonet and Eichler 2009). For example,
DUF120 domain dosage appears to be a primary factor in evolutionary brain
expansion in higher primates, coding for neural stem cells and cortical volume
(Dumas et al. 2012) but also correlating linearly with the three primary
symptoms of autism (Davis et al. 2014). Genes for autism may even pre-date the
emergence of apes, with autistic behaviour having been associated with genetic
markers for autism in macaques (Yoshida et al. 2016) further confirming the
long evolutionary history of autism.
How would individuals with autism have been treated in ancestral ape societies?
Our best evidence comes from comparative studies of our nearest relatives,
chimpanzees, as well as other apes and primates. Although chimpanzees have
evolved since the far distant past communities of our last shared ancestor (from
which both humans and chimpanzees evolved), living around 6-8 million years
ago, they provide us with the best source of possible analogies for such societies.

Nurturance and care in apes

Maternal bonds are strong amongst apes. We can be certain, therefore, that
ancestral ape mothers will have had the ‘hard wiring’ to care for the vulnerable
in the form of strong maternal instincts to look after offspring. Ape mothers
(though not fathers) devote many years to caring for dependant offspring (and
chimpanzees, for example, take around nine years to reach adulthood).
Figure 3.1. Bonds between our mothers in our nearest living relatives (chimpanzees) and their infants are
strong, and mothers go to great length to nurture and support their young.

Even an infant that is less socially engaged or less socially responsive

nonetheless stands a good chance of being cared for by its mother in an ape
society. An example comes from the case of a chimpanzee mother in the Mahale
mountains who carefully cared for her infant with Down’s Syndrome
(Matsumoto et al. 2016). The mother, Christina, occasionally helped by her older
infant, cared for the severely disabled baby, walking on three legs so that she
could support the baby underneath her, and breast feeding for longer than usual.
Christina seemed able to accommodate the differences which resulted from her
baby’s disability. She learnt to carry her differently, didn’t let others carry her
(which might have been dangerous if they didn’t know how) and held her in a
particular way so that she could breastfed. The others in the group didn’t show
any negative reactions to the infant. The disabled chimp lived for 23 months;
however, she was never seen eating plant foods or walking, probably struggling
to survive as soon as she needed to eat solid foods.
The motivation to nurture a baby who was less socially engaged or disabled in
other ways is likely to have existed even as far back as many millions of years
ago. However, in non-human great apes, it is mothers who shoulder almost all
the infant care. This effectively places a limit on the extent of disability,
vulnerability or weakness that can be supported, and mothers single-handedly
caring for severely disabled infants often show signs of stress (Matsumoto et al.
2016).
An ancestral ape with autism who reached adulthood would not necessarily have
been excluded from ancestral ape society. A study of Japanese macaques, for
example, showed that there was no social selection against disability, with
physically disabled macaques treated equally (Turner et al. 2014). However,
there is no evidence of support or accommodation for disability. Turner showed
that disabled macaques have to manage on their own, which means that they
have less time for socialising and fewer allies. This is significant as allies are
important to survival. We know that injuries lower the ‘rank’ of chimpanzees and
their previous allies often abandon them: the rank of the Tai forest chimpanzee
Jomeo was substantially reduced when he injured his foot, for example (Boesch
1992), and the Gombe forest chimpanzee Faben was reduced to a lower rank,
submissive to his younger brother Faben, after he could no longer use his arm
(Goodall 1986).
Social astuteness matters for apes who live in large social groups. Common and
pygmy chimpanzees (bonobos) have a strict dominance hierarchy, and social
deficits carry notable disadvantages in this hierarchy. It is evident that social life
revolves around particular alliances, and there are strict ranks of dominance,
with one’s allies and one’s rank dependant on one’s social skills as well as
physical power. Life can be intensely political, as individuals compete for their
place, and vie to form the strongest alliances (de Waal 1998). Although rare in
bonobos, violence within groups of common chimpanzees is common,
particularly against low ranking individuals (Wrangham, Wilson, and Muller
2006), who have much lower reproductive success than those of high rank.
Moreover, when attacked by a chimpanzee of higher rank chimpanzee take out
their aggression on those of lower rank (Boehm 2011), and within group
aggression can be lethal (Kaburu, Inoue, and Newton-Fisher 2013).
Chimpanzees can also be cunningly manipulative for their own ends and there is
little commitment to others – they readily discard allies who lose rank (Gilby et
al. 2014). Even amongst more peaceful bonobos, social and emotional astuteness
is a key determinant of alliances and rank (Clay and de Waal 2013).
Understanding all the complexities of social relationships is likely to have been
significant in determining the social and reproductive success of any ancestral
ape.
In a fascinating study of personality variation and traits of autism in
chimpanzees, Marrus et al. argue that chimpanzee groups have a similar
personality variation in social responsiveness (a trait lowered in autism) as
human populations (Marrus et al. 2011). Chimpanzees who were less socially
adept than others were clearly present and survived within the group as adults.
However, these chimpanzees were consistently lower ranking (Faughn et al.
2015). The equivalent of autism in chimpanzees is clearly not the same condition
as in humans. Apart from any other consideration, researchers found
compensatory technical skills in terms of engagement and manipulation of
objects (Marrus et al. 2011). However, the study at least gives us some insight
into both the presence and the social effect of autism in our most distant
ancestors.
Though adults with an ancestral version of autism would receive no
accommodation or support and are likely to have been lower ranking, they may
still have had some cultural influence. Hobaiter and Byrne, for example, found
that several able bodied chimpanzees copied the unique back scratching
technique of a severely disabled chimpanzee who had near paralysis in both
hands, clearly being influenced to emulate him (Hobaiter and Byrne 2010).
Autism in communities many millions of years ago is likely to have been a
disability with little compensatory advantages, nor any significant contribution
to evolutionary success, but nonetheless one which might be nurtured in infants
and have some potential cultural significance.

Early hominins from 3 million years onwards

Over the following millennia as ancestral apes evolved their social
characteristics were to change profoundly.
Though there is very limited archaeological evidence available for this period we
do know that whilst other apes retreated to stable forested environments during
periods of increasing aridity around five million years ago, human ancestors,
called hominins, moved into new niches in more open environments. Making a
success of a life which was more in the open was a key evolutionary change, and
one which also demanded a change in how social relationships worked.
A major change in evolutionary pressures came from predation. More open
environments put hominins into the reach of entirely new and dangerous
predators, against which these small bodied and defenceless creatures were easy
prey. We know, for example, that australopithecines, early ancestors of humans
living around 3 million years ago, were often eaten by carnivores. The crania of
an australopithecine found at Swartkrans cave in South Africa, for example, is
punch marked with tooth holes from a leopard (Pickering et al. 2004). Since
leopards don’t scavenge for food, the small hominin must have been leopard kill.
The Taung child, a famous cranium from Taung cave in south Africa, is likely to
have been killed by eagles (Berger and McGraw 2007). Hominins from Olduvai
Gorge in Kenya showed signs of having been killed by crocodiles (Njau and
Blumenschine 2006). Clearly predation was a key selection pressure on these
groups.
In response to their dangerous environment hominins had to work together to
survive, to find food and to protect their vulnerable offspring. The collaborative
potential in ancestral apes would have been under pressure to intensify to meet
these pressures. Hominins probably threw stones together as a defence against
carnivores, for example (Rose and Marshall 1996). This was also probably the
time when humans collaborated to raise young, with other mothers as well as
fathers likely to be involved in raising and protecting offspring (Blaffer Hrdy
2008; Hrdy 2011). Collaborative parenting meant that supporting offspring with
more demanding needs became feasible. We also find stone tools being produced
at sites in east Africa from at least 3.3 million years ago (Harmand et al. 2015),
opening up a new niche for scavenging carnivore kills for bone marrow and
scraps of meat and for technology to become important in subsistence.
The scene was set for more fundamental changes in society.

Early humans from 1.5 million years ago

The collaboration which is widely seen as the key to early human success –
allowing a vulnerable ape to move into new ecological niches – comes ever
more clearly into view in the archaeological evidence surviving from around one
and a half million years ago.
Some of the earliest evidence for collaborative hunting appears from around one
and a half million years onwards (Domínguez-Rodrigo et al. 2014). Hominins
may have often collaborated to scare predators from existing carcasses and
scavenge the remains themselves. However, species such as Homo erectus left
animal bones and stone tools at sites such as BK and FLK Zinj at Olduvai
Gorge, Tanzania, which illustrate that they were able to hunt small, medium and
large size animals such as hippopotamus and early forms of giraffe and cattle.
Active hunting of game, and we assume, sharing the results of that hunting, put
early humans at risk from the hunted animals themselves as well as in direct
competition with carnivores, and increased pressure on abilities to work together.
A greater dependence on meat also implied that stone tools, used to butcher
carcasses, were essential to survival. There is no evidence that anyone
specialised in making stone tools (and we don’t even know if handaxes were
made by everyone, just by males or even just by females). However, for the first
time stone tools such as handaxes conformed to a particular design, and became
not only more efficient but also more difficult to produce, therefore most likely
involving a period of learning. Stone tools could also become a means of
displaying valued technical skills as well as demonstrating patience and focus
(Spikins 2012). An aptitude for working with objects, a strong sense of patience
and an ability to focus became an advantage, as did having an understanding of
animal behaviour.
 Figure 3.2. This handaxe, from Olduvai Gorge, dating to 1.2 million years old, illustrates an increasing
technological skill and attention to aesthetics and symmetry in stone tools.

Both the social and the technical elements of human cognition were under
pressure to become more complex.
Human evolutionary success certainly depended on social skills. The ability to
collaborate with others became increasingly important; both inspiring trust in
others (Spikins 2012) and knowing who to trust became important skills (Nowak
and Sigmund 2005; Rand and Nowak 2013). There were also pressures to be
increasingly empathetic, responding to the needs of not only infants but also kin
and other group members (Decety et al. 2012) and to have higher levels of
theory of mind and understanding of others’ feelings and motivations (Shultz,
Nelson, and Dunbar 2012; Gamble, Gowlett, and Dunbar 2011). Commitments
and collaboration became a key to survival (Nesse 2001).
However, evolutionary success also depended on technology. Tools became
more essential to survival, and increasingly complex over time. The earliest tool
forms were simply made of easily produced flakes, for example; however, after
1.8 million years ago, handaxes demanded an understanding of process and
symmetry (Stout et al. 2008). In later periods the control of fire became
important (Roebroeks and Villa 2011), as did hafting tools, and ultimately multi-
component tools allowed survival in extreme environments.
An increased component of meat in the diet was important in providing the
protein for brain expansion in response to pressures to be more sophisticated in
both social and technical ways. After around 2 million years ago we see marked
increases in brain size.
 Figure 3.3. Homo erectus, with a larger body form, increased brain size and more complex technology
appeared around 1.8 million years ago.

Significant changes were taking place in how societies worked together to

survive. For the first time we see vulnerable adults being supported and cared
for. The earliest evidence for possible support of a vulnerable adult comes from
the Dmanisi mandible in Georgia, an almost ‘toothless’ hominin that many argue
must have been provided food by others around 1.8 million years ago
(Lordkipanidze et al. 2005). This interpretation has been contested, however,
with others arguing that the individual might nonetheless have been able to fend
for himself. More convincing is the find of a young female dating to around 1.6
million years ago who suffered from crippling and eventually terminal
hypervitaminosis (Walker, Zimmerman and Leakey 1982). This female lived
long enough, suffering extreme pain and probable loss of consciousness, for the
disease to show in her bones. It is undeniable that she must have been given food
and water and protected from predators whilst she was ill by others in her group.
There were clearly motivations to both include and to support those who were
vulnerable.
Figure 3.4. A ‘toothless’ crania from Dmanisi in Georgia, dating to 1.8 million years ago, has been argued
to be evidence of food provisioning of those who were vulnerable.
Figure 3.5. A layer of bone in the femur of a female dated to 1.6 million years ago illustrates that she had
 severe hypervitaminosis and must have been looked after for several weeks before her death.

Support for those who needed it was very unlikely to be a conscious choice or
strategy. More probably, stronger bonds and attachments developed through
selection for those more willing and motivated the support of others with
vulnerabilities, as this provided the ‘give and take’ which allowed survival.
Humans had already demonstrated capacities for long term commitment to
adults well beyond those seen in other primates.
Whiten and Erdal (2012) argue that several significant new social elements were
emerging. Food sharing allowed vulnerable individuals, such as pregnant or
nursing females, to be supported. From the ranked hierarchies with constant
competition for status and physical power seen in other social primates, this
period may have seen the origins of much more egalitarian societies, driving the
economic benefits and long term ‘give and take’ of collaboration. These can
perhaps be seen as the first steps towards communities made up of different
individuals working together for the benefit of the group and supporting each
other when needed.

From half a million years ago and the emergence of early

communities
Diversity becomes much more clearly in evidence from half a million years ago.
Reconstructions of humans from our distant past always show a group of young
strong (typically male) individuals, who are remarkably similar to each other,
brandishing spears and looking invulnerable. However, by half a million years
ago the archaeological record tells a different story. Many individuals in each
human group must have suffered from temporary or more permanent weaknesses
or vulnerabilities which needed accommodation and few people fitted the
concept of ‘normal’ which we impose on our past.
Our best example of variation within human groups comes from the site of Sima
de los Huesos, Atapuerca, northern Spain dating to around 450,000 years ago.
Life hunting and gathering was evidently harsh for these populations, with
injuries common. However, social support clearly kept injured or vulnerable
individuals within the group. At this site 28 individuals have been deposited in a
mortuary pit, some of the earliest evidence of funerary activity. Of these, several
suffered from conditions which required support and accommodation. A child of
around five to eight years old suffered from craniosyntosis and a torsioning of
the crania which may have led to mental disability, yet was clearly looked after
with as much care as any other child (Gracia et al. 2009). One elderly man had a
disfigured pelvis and must have walked with difficulty, at the very least needing
a stick. Another man was deaf (Bonmatí et al. 2010). All three had been
supported within the group. Communities were clearly both willing and able to
support differences which required individual accommodation.
By the time of later archaic humans such as Neanderthals, social support for
vulnerabilities was clearly widespread. One individual from Shanidar Cave, for
example, suffered from a withered arm, damaged leg and probably blindness in
one eye and is likely to have been dependant on others for his survival. However,
he was cared for, probably through shared collaborative care, for around ten to
fifteen years (Trinkaus and Zimmerman 1982). Others with marked injuries and
disabilities, such as individuals from La Ferrassie and La Chapelle aux Saints,
were also clearly carefully looked after (Tilley 2015a; 2015b). Care for
vulnerability was widespread (Spikins, Rutherford and Needham 2010; Spikins
2015).
Figure 3.6. Care and support was widespread by the time of archaic humans such as Neanderthals.
Figure 3.7. The arm bones of the Shanidar Neanderthal illustrate his disability, which was supported by the
rest of his group for 10-15 years.

Many find the extent of care seen in archaic humans difficult to understand.
Surely it would have been economically more efficient to abandon the
vulnerable?
It is clear that selective pressures created early humans that cared deeply about
each other, and strong bonds will have motivated care and support. Nevertheless,
the extent of collaboration and willingness to take risks on behalf of others
which allowed early humans to survive and be successful was likely to have only
been possible with the right social and emotional climate. Even today we only
naturally become altruistic adults if we grow up in an environment of care and
support (Gilbert 2005; Mikulincer and Shaver 2010). Abandoning the vulnerable
was probably not only unthinkable for archaic humans in a moral or emotional
sense, but also deeply damaging to the social environment and culture of
unquestioning support within which sharing and collaboration existed.
Whilst there is nothing visible on human bones to provide direct evidence of
autism in prehistory, in the context of the widespread care seen in archaic
humans we would have to find a special explanation for why the challenges
which autism brought were not supported.
Did autism bring advantages in such societies? We don’t know when in an
evolutionary sense human societies became sufficiently complex to support not
merely individuals with autism but a collaborative integration between different
types of mind and different cognitive skills. There is little evidence for craft or
technological specialisation before the emergence of our own species, for
example. The particular skills of individuals with autism might have been
supported and integrated, bringing particular advantages in the far distant past of
archaic species. However, it is after 100,000 years ago, sometime after the
emergence of our own species, that it becomes easier to see roles for individuals
with autism (Spikins, Wright and Hodgson 2016).
To understand the world of the hunter-gatherer societies that developed after this
date, and the potential role of autism within it, we will consider in the next
chapter both the archaeological record of this period and analogies with modern
hunting and gathering populations.
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 CHAPTER FOUR: 100,000 years ago
onwards – autism and prehistoric hunter-
gatherer societies
I feel sure that my way of being is only a disability of context, that what have
been labelled symptoms of autism in the context of my culture are inherited gifts
of insight and action
(Prince 2010, 62)
It isn’t difficult to see that there would have been advantages to integrating
cognitive diversity within past hunter-gatherer societies and providing roles for
individuals with autism, as well as challenges to be met. We can easily imagine
that collaborative groups supporting cognitive specialisation might begin to be
an advantage. Some individuals might be focused on being technological
specialists, or developing other object focused or rule based realms, and others
on fostering social cohesion or developing other intuitive social realms, with
different niches creating the cognitive differences we see today. Moreover, any
group with different specialists within it might be better placed to respond to
challenges and changes than ones where everyone has to carry out the same
roles.
Several rather unique social characteristics of modern small scale hunter-
gatherers might seem to provide opportunities for this type of complementary
balance to be supported, and for individuals with autism to thrive and find
important roles in balance and collaboration with neurotypical skills.
Whilst the social characteristics which could support cognitive diversity as a
basis for society may have extended deeper into the evolutionary past, we can be
most confident that they developed after 100,000 years ago. From around
100,000 years ago the structure of populations began to change, with increasing
population density, greater mobility between groups and the development of
large scale networks of alliances. As a result, autism individuals with autism
would be seen more frequently given increased population overall in any region,
special talents could garner a certain prestige amongst a wide connected region
and opportunities could arise for contribution to large scale collaboration
through the development and imposition of rules operating between groups.
From this time, human groups also increasingly colonise regions with harsher
and more variable environments, such as high latitude cold environments,
spreading eventually throughout the globe. Complex technology becomes
essential to survival in these contexts and roles for technological specialists can
develop.
Most importantly, it is after this time that we begin to see the clearest evidence
for well-defined communal ethics and collaborative morality, protecting
individuals from bullying or exploitation, driving possibilities for sharing of
differing skills and talents and ensuring support for weaknesses and
vulnerabilities. Collaborative ethics provide the basis for a relationship between
communities and autism in which individuals with autism need communities,
and communities need individuals with autism.

Changing Population Structure

Both genetic evidence and increasing numbers of archaeological sites suggest
that modern human groups leaving Africa after 100,000 years ago lived at higher
population densities than the archaic species which they replaced (Bocquet-
Appel and Degioanni 2013; Churchill 2014; Sánchez-Quinto and Lalueza-Fox
2015). In Europe, for example, Paul Mellars argues that societies in Ice Age
Europe lived at ten times the population density of the archaic humans,
Neanderthals, living before them (Mellars and French 2011). Changes in
population were at least in part due to a more gracile body form, with moderns
being less robust, requiring less energy per individual and so being able to live in
larger groups. But such larger groups imply a more probable presence of
individuals with traits of autism in any group.
Intergroup alliances also began to emerge. While archaic groups seem to have
been relatively isolated (Ríos et al. 2015; Prüfer et al. 2014), modern human
social structures involved a great deal of connection and movement between
different groups (Apicella et al. 2012). Moreover, artefacts began to move along
networks of exchange, which suggest large scale regional identity (Vanhaeren
and d’Errico 2006; White 2007). In such contexts it becomes possible for
exceptional talents, such as those sometimes associated with autism, to lead to
regional levels of influence and respect. Moreover, intergroup alliances are often
governed by strict rules, which opens up opportunities for trusted individuals to
apply such rules with fairness.

Colonisation of new and more challenging environments

The spread of human populations into new and more risky and variable
environments after 100,000 years ago demanded a certain technological
complexity which will have added significant value to experimental and
technological talents. For example, the spread of humans into Australia around
60,000 years ago demanded sophisticated use of boat technology, while the
occupation of cold northern environments would only have been possible with
well-tailored clothing and highly engineered hunting weapons. Traits of autism
might not only have been increasingly valued through this expansion but
conceivably also facilitated it.
 Figure 4.1. The spread of human populations after 100,000 years ago.

Collaborative Ethics
Perhaps the most significant element with regard to the inclusion of individuals
with autism comes from collaborative ethics (Spikins, Wright and Hodgson
2016).
Modern mobile hunter-gatherers are in no way relics of the past, and each is
distinctive. Nonetheless, the observations made by anthropologists about their
way of life can give us some important insights into how social inclusion and
integration may have worked in ancient societies appearing after 100,000 years
ago. Both their unique ethics (of inclusion, sharing and equality) and approaches
to firm pro-social rules (encouraging inclusion through appropriate behaviour
and of punishing dominance or exploitation) provide a basis for integration and
potentially more opportunities for roles for individuals with autism. These ethics
may be a key role in integration, not only of autism, but of other differences, and
of any vulnerabilities.
An ethic of sharing, not only resources but time, effort and valued skills, as well
as that of making moral judgements on the basis of social motivations and of
clear pro-social rules, are particularly significant.

An ethic of sharing and mutual support

A dominant ethic of widespread sharing and mutual support has been noted as a
key feature of small scale hunter-gatherer societies from the earliest observations
by anthropologists (Kelly 2013). People from western industrialised societies,
with an ethic of independence and individuality may find it difficult to truly
understand the mutual interdependence and willing support in small scale
hunter-gatherer societies. Yet this interdependence has been a key feature in
human success. Collaboration and sharing are essential to collaborative hunting,
and mutual independence allows any individual to weather hard times or illness,
be supported through pregnancy and childcare, or cared for after injury such that
all benefit from mutual help (Spikins, Rutherford and Needham 2010; Spikins
2015a).
Sharing and mutual support in hunter-gatherers goes well beyond the levels seen
in modern industrialised societies, and is not only related to practical elements of
life such as food, time, knowledge, effort and skills but also a more deep-seated
way of relating to others.
In practical terms, food is shared widely (Jaeggi and Gurven 2013), and
ethnographic evidence illustrates that such widespread sharing evens out periods
of plenty and scarcity (Dyble et al. 2016). Polly Weissner has studied sharing
amongst the Jo’huansi (San bushmen of the Kalahari): between July 1996 and
January 1997 a group of eight families of Jo’huansi at Xamsa ate 297 meals – of
these meals, 197 were provided by others, or included contributions from others
(Wiessner 2002). Sharing even works between groups across large scale
landscapes. The same Jo’huansi develop distant friendships through gift giving,
and at a time of famine in /Xai/xai, for example, distant exchange partners
supported half of the population, who only survived because of this
unconditional help (Wiessner 2002). Skills and knowledge are also shared
widely within and between camps, helping to support survival through difficult
environmental conditions and allowing innovations to spread (Dyble et al. 2016).
Sharing of possessions, food, skills and knowledge is not simply a social
tendency (which some individuals with autism might find challenging) but an
outcome of firmly applied rules.
Sharing is also documented amongst hunter-gatherers of the last 100,000 years,
for whom we have only an archaeological record. Large scale alliances begin to
emerge around 80,000 years ago (Bouzouggar et al. 2007) and sharing was
clearly part of the key to the survival of communities moving into Europe
around 40,000 years ago and enduring throughout the Ice Age. The widespread
exchange of non-functional gifts across Europe supports the interpretation that
sharing and mutual support across groups was widespread (Vanhaeren et al.
2004; Vanhaeren and d’Errico 2006). Moreover, we can see evidence of sharing
within groups at sites with detailed archaeological evidence for how faunal
remains or stone tools are moved between hearths such as at Pincevent and
Verberie in the Magdalenian of northern France (Zubrow, Audouze and Enloe
2010).
In moral terms, a sharing ethic and what has been termed collaborative morality
(Tomasello and Vaish 2013; Spikins, Wright and Hodgson 2016) is a way of
being for hunter-gatherers. Generosity and being willing to support others pays
off amongst such small scale groups where everyone’s actions and motivations
towards others are remembered, and it matters to be seen as caring about others.
For example, amongst the Ache of Paraguay those hunters who most willingly
and generously give their meat away are most willingly looked after when ill,
injured or elderly (Gurven et al. 2000). Unlike our societies, which focus on
individual autonomy, in small scale hunter-gatherer contexts episodic or
contextual vulnerabilities and dependencies are part of life. Hunters amongst the
Ache are too ill or injured to hunt a third of the time, for example (Gurven et al.
2000). A sharing ethic allows for a high level of give and take which plays out in
different ways and which buffers individual shortfalls, illnesses or
vulnerabilities.
Anthropologists argue that sharing and mutual independence amongst hunter-
gatherers is so fundamental to their existence that, unlike people in modern
western societies, hunter-gatherers don’t see themselves as bounded individuals
in the same way as people in western industrialised societies view themselves
predominantly as part of a wider interdependent whole (De Castro 2007).

Sharing and inclusion

An ethic of mutual sharing and support also supports inclusion of differences.

A good example comes from the Baka of Cameroon. Amongst the Baka, those
with physical disabilities are accommodated within society. Those who are
wheelchair bound do what they can to collect food. However, their lack of
mobility also allows them to develop other skills, including the occupation of a
certain social position – with their houses becoming a nexus of social interaction
both within and between groups (Toda 2013). Though less able to contribute to
society in one way, they contribute in another.
In archaeological contexts, individuals with physical disabilities typically
receive special treatment in burial in Ice Age Europe (Formicola 2007), which
suggests that in such societies, like the Baka, difference (in this case physical)
opened up avenues to making a unique and respected contribution. An individual
with dwarfism at Romito in Italy, for example, received an unusual and elaborate
burial beneath cave art, with an older woman (who many suspect was his
mother) (Tilley 2015). Isotope studies have shown that this individual received
the same food as others in the group (Craig et al. 2010).
With no concept of disorder or disability within hunter-gatherer societies, the
integration of individuals with autism makes them difficult to identify in
anthropological accounts Nonetheless, such individuals are there if we look
carefully. Piers Vitebsky provides an interesting example amongst Siberian
reindeer herders. Though strictly herders rather than hunter-gatherers, these
reindeer peoples show many similar traits, including the inclusion and respect
according to one’s abilities demonstrated by small scale hunter-gatherers. He
describes an individual who would today, we suspect, have been diagnosed with
autism, and who made a unique and valued contribution specific to his skills:

Camp 10 also contained the men of the Nikitin family. The extraordinary
old grandfather had a detailed knowledge of the parentage, medical history
and moods of each one of the 2,600 animals in the herd. He was more
comfortable in the company of reindeer than of humans, and always pitched
his tent some way from everyone else and cooked for himself. His son
worked in the herd and had been joined for the summer by his own teenage
sons, Zhenya and young Sergei. (Vitebsky 2005, 133)

Other examples of technical skills leading to positions of respect are found

amongst many groups. Amongst the Selk’nam of Tierra del Fuego, for example,
respect could be earned in several different ways, including being a specialist
cormorant hunter, or a skilled craftsperson (Lucas Bridges 1948; Gusinde 1982).
A skilled cormorant hunter amongst the Selk’nam was also known as something
of a recluse (Lucas Bridges 1948). Hunting skills are often held in high esteem
and such skills can translate into reproductive advantage, with the best hunters
being preferred husbands amongst the Hadza (Smith 2004; Marlowe 2004).
Skills can even be influential across a region. Amongst the Baka, for example,
young men travel great distances to learn from an acknowledged expert, such as
a basket maker. For a population of 250-300 Baka over a large region, Hewlett
and Hewlett (2013) show that 16 individuals were identified as key craft
innovators. These specialists attracted novices who would travel great distances
to learn from them (Hewlett 2013).
It isn’t difficult to imagine that some highly skilled craftspeople, particularly
focused on their craft and developing new innovative methods, be that in stone
tool manufacture or other technical realms, might often show traits of autism.

Craft specialists, social roles and traits of autism

Craft specialists can be accorded particular respect and influence when their
valued skills are needed for survival, and social roles also open up for those
concerned with rules and fairness as intergroup collaboration is needed for
survival.
Colonisation of harsh and risky environments depends on well functioning
technology, with those who can produce this accorded a certain respect. Highly
complex and reliable technology is essential in northern cold latitudes, for
example. The Inuit provide a good illustration, with many different types of
technology being highly complex. Different types of boats are designed for
different conditions. The kayak (figure 4.1) is designed to be buoyant and easy to
right, and we can also see a float used with a harpoon to track sea mammals after
they have been speared. The umiak, in contrast, is designed for carrying people
and goods (figure 4.2). Sleds are carefully designed and packed (figure 4.3) and
dogs are used for transport, hunting, carrying loads and defence. Clothing is also
finely made and designed to withstand extreme cold, whilst goggles (figure 4.4)
are designed to guard against snow blindness.
Figure 4.2. Photograph of an Inuit man with a kayak, by Edward Augustus Inglefield, in 1854.

Figure 4.3. Eskimos in larger boat or .umiak, Grantley Harbor, Alaska, ca. 1904
 Figure 4.4. Traditional qamutik (sled), Cape Dorset.

Figure 4.5. Inuit goggles, made of caribou antler and caribou sinew.

Since the Inuit depend on precisely made and reliable technology for survival,
great value is placed on skills such as innovation, precision and perseverance,
which are needed to produce their complex equipment. These same skills are
highlighted and respected in their storytelling and in their art, such as through
innovative designs, and patience and attention to detail in soapstone carving
(Graburn 1976). Unsurprisingly, those who possess such skills earn respect not
only as they express their talent in technology but also in everyday life.
In an archaeological context we see the same kind of perseverance and attention
to detail in Ice Age technology, perhaps unsurprisingly given the similarly cold
and inhospitable environments in which precisely made technology is essential
for survival. Finely made Solutrean points take up to eleven hours to produce,
for example, and illustrate patience, precision, and a commitment to many hours
of practice (Sinclair 1995). Lithic technology is so specialised, and the
requirements of learning so time-consuming, that it seems likely that there were
specialised roles, that is to say, individuals who were supported by others to
specialise in their craft (Sinclair 2015). Particular techniques in art, such as the
style in which horse heads and nostrils are depicted or particular ways of carving
ibex, also illustrate that art was often taught and learnt, and art specialists are
also likely to have existed.
Intergroup alliances are often essential for survival in harsh environments and
the rules that govern these can be complex. Those for dividing meat from
intergroup collaborative seal hunts amongst the Netsilik Inuit described by Asen
Balicki are one example (Balicki 1970, 133). The hunter keeps the flippers, but
depends on future hunts to provide him with meat, with the seal meat and
blubber divided in 14 ways by specifically complex defined rules and
relationships. Unbiased imposition of rules, and the capacity to be a temporary
authority without attempting to dominate others, are important. Amongst the
Yamana of Tierra del Fuego, a particular fair minded individual will be trusted
with enforcing rules and appropriate behaviours when many groups come
together during important rituals such as the Chiexaus ceremony (figure 4.5),
allowing harmony to be maintained (McEwan, Borrero, and Prieto 2014). This
individual will be accorded authority for the duration of the ceremony. In such
circumstances, clear and logical thinking, a concern for fairness, and absence of
favouritism are particularly important.

Figure 4.6. A group of initiates at the inter-group Chiexaus ceremony of the Yamana, photographed in
1922.

Negotiations with other groups can demand a certain attitude, and the Jo’huansi
select their least sensitive and most firm minded individuals for such
negotiations (Lee 1979).
 Roles for individuals with traits of autism

It isn’t difficult to see particular roles for which individuals with traits of autism
might have specifically attuned competences and skills which could be valued in
any hunter-gatherer society, nor how their particular skills might have been
influential to others. Much in the same way that we saw in chapter two how the
talents of individuals with autism make significant contributions to realms such
as science, engineering and law, such individuals could also have made
contributions in the distant past, and also have had families and children. We saw
in chapter two that autistic talents include realms of abilities significant to
survival in the past; for example, attention to visual details – important in
hunting, elevated skills in sound and touch detection – important in hunting and
finding food, unique relationships with animals – important in both hunting and
other animal relationships, such as domestication of wolves, and enhanced
understanding of physics and chemistry – important in technology creation.
Individuals with traits of autism may also have an important role to play in
establishing and supporting social rules, particularly where collaborations
between different groups are concerned: in such instances, strict rules of
behaviour are important in avoiding conflict, and trusted, fair minded individuals
are often given the authority to impose rules.
As we saw in chapter two, autism is highly variable moreover, every autistic
individual is different. The roles in society and relationships to others of any
autistic individual would depend on their own intellect, abilities, talents, and
personalities. Moreover, different hunter-gatherer cultures would place differing
values on differing traits of autism, from being supported and tolerated to
esteemed and valued. It isn’t difficult to see, nonetheless, that in many contexts
technological traits may have been particularly significant in survival. The level
of inventiveness, engineering skill, patience, focus, and attention to detail
contributed by those at the autistic extreme of personality variation may even
have been part of what allowed colonisation of high latitudes, where complex
technology is a requirement for survival. The same skills may also have played a
role in global sea-faring, which in many cases demanded well-made and
designed boats and also occurred after 100,000 years ago. In other environments
and cultural contexts other traits, such as a focus on fairness and equality, might
be more highly regarded. Some traits could be valued whilst others might be
tolerated within a climate of give and take.
We can see that over a broad scale, integrating complementary autistic and
neurotypical skills would make societies more adaptable and resilient to
changes. Once roles develop, whether based on social or technological traits,
societies would become as much dependant on traits of autism for survival as
individuals with autism are to the support of their communities.

Moral judgements based on motivations

In addition to an ethic of sharing, bringing with it the possibility of contributing
valued skills or taking up particular roles, the means of moral judgement seen in
small scale hunter-gatherers also promotes inclusion of individuals with autism
in broader ways.
We saw in the last chapter that social astuteness is a key to success in non-human
apes, with chimpanzees with more traits of autism tending to have a lower social
ranking (and so less reproductive success) than others. It may sometimes be an
advantage to be socially astute in hunter-gatherer communities; however, rather
than primarily social astuteness it is clear from ethnographic accounts that one’s
motivations are the key factor which is subjected to moral judgements from
others. In this, the key factor is to be motivated by the common good, and a
positive moral judgement is what determines success (Boehm 2012). Indeed,
being manipulative or cunning is likely to lead to reprimands, punishment and a
loss of influence among the ‘moral majority’ (Wiessner 2005; Boehm et al.
1993). In such a situation, rather than always an advantage, a complex
understanding of others’ emotions can become costly (Devaine, Hollard, and
Daunizeau 2014). One of the main causes of violence in small scale hunter-
gatherers is over what is seen as ‘cheating’, in jealousies, sexual rivalries and
infidelity, for example (Boehm et al. 1993; Boehm 2012). Advantages open up
for those with a less complex and less involved model of others’ minds.
In effect, a focus on one’s motivations and intentions in terms of moral
judgements and respect from others levels the playing field for individuals with
autism.,

Clear applied pro-social rules

The key social rules in hunter-gatherer societies, to share and to work together,
are not complex or difficult to understand; but they are firmly enforced through
collaborative effort, driven by a willingness to work hard at maintaining
harmony and a clear awareness of the societies which are being created.
Tolerance, firm sanctions against bullying or exploitation and firm guidance on
social behaviour support individuals who are different and allow them to thrive.
 Tolerance

Harmony and inclusion depend on both support and tolerance and hunter-
gatherer society is often seen as remarkably tolerant. In fact, unusual behaviours
are typically of no particular concern. There is no concept of disability, or
expectations of how people should be. There are no timescales or deadlines, and
appropriate behaviour can take as long as necessary (and we have seen in
chapter two that children with autism can take longer to reach emotional
milestones). Where disability is severe, adults are often seen as still children and
not expected to make any contribution (Kapp 2011).

Protection from exploitation and bullying

Individuals who are sometimes vulnerable or have certain weaknesses also

benefit from firm rules, imposed by the group as a whole, to protect everyone
from bullying or exploitation. So called ‘third party punishment’ – that anti-
social or uncollaborative behaviour is policed by the group and punished
regardless of who that behaviour affects – is a key evolutionary development in
human societies that we see ubiquitously in modern hunter-gatherers. We saw in
the last chapter that chimpanzees take out aggressive attacks from superiors on
their inferiors who cannot expect anyone to step in to defend them. However,
part and parcel of the intense collaboration and egalitarianism in hunter-gatherer
societies is the punishment of bullying or exploitation by those who aren’t
involved (Boehm 2011). The result is societies which forcefully defend those who
might otherwise have been exploited.
Wiessner (2005) records extensive third party punishment in the Jo’huansi, for
example. Generally, the stronger and more confident members of society step in
to punish aggression, exploitation, bullying and jealousy, initially through gentle
ridicule or harsher criticism, but then through stronger tactics if behaviour isn’t
amended. Preventing bullying and exploitation is the concern of everyone. Those
who are dominating and manipulative can ultimately even face the most extreme
sanctions of being expelled or even assassinated (Boehm et al. 1993; Boehm
2015). Peter Freuchen describes the case of Uvigsakavsik, a murderer amongst
the Inuit, who was expelled from the group (Freuchen, Maerker-Branden, and
Branden 1931; Boehm 2009; Spikins 2015b).
For individuals with autism, third party punishment removes the disadvantages
that a less sophisticated understanding of social relationship brings. With
bullying and exploitation not tolerated, there is no requirement to be socially
astute – it is enough to make one’s contribution to society to earn respect.
However, individuals with autism also benefit in more subtle ways from the
group imposition of firm pro-social rules. Using the example of the Navajo,
Steven Kapp (2011) argues that encouraging responsibility (rather than removing
autonomy through labels of disability) and encouraging appropriate behaviour in
firm ways make small scale hunter-gatherers societies far more supportive places
for the integration of individuals with autism.

Firm guidance on social behaviour

One example of the significance of clear guidance and firm rules about pro-
social behaviour comes from the need to control anger in order to be socially
integrated.
Everyone (neurotypical or autistic) needs to control their anger in order to live
harmoniously with others as displays of anger can be upsetting or threatening.
However, controlling anger can sometimes be particularly challenging for
individuals with autism. We might feel that life with autism might be easier if
one were given complete freedom of expression, especially as overcoming
emotions such as anger can be so difficult for individuals on the autistic
spectrum. However, the testimonies of individuals with autism who have
experienced firm guidelines and encouragement to control emotions or
behaviour which might be upsetting or damaging to others and have been helped
to find ways to make a contribution suggests that this is not the case. For
example, Temple Grandin describes the observations of Marina, whose mother
expected her to help with chores at home, like making her own bed, even though
supporting her to do this and being firm will have been hard work. Marina says:

This has helped me throughout life. It has taught me to have a degree of

self-control. I also learnt skills. (Moore and Grandin 2016, 156)

Grandin herself reports that, as a child, if she had a tantrum and lost her temper
she was not allowed to watch TV that evening, and though that was difficult, it
helped her learn to control her anger. As she notes, most adults with autism are
grateful for the ‘loving push’ of parents who are firm about contributing, sharing
and behaving in ways that don’t hurt others.
An example of attitudes to displays of angers comes from research by the
anthropologist Jean Briggs amongst the Inuit. When snow landed on her
typewriter while she was working Jean lost her temper and threw a knife at a pile
of fish. This created much concern amongst the Inuit, who saw such behaviour
as potentially dangerous, and in their view childlike. She was subsequently
ignored, and only accepted again once she could demonstrate an ability to
control her anger (Briggs 1970).
Temple Grandin is a strong advocate of clear guidance, and encouraging
appropriate and positive behaviour in children and adolescents on the spectrum
(and indeed all children) (Moore and Grandin 2016). Such a ‘loving push’ is no
easy task for parents in modern society, however. Being supportive and calmly
encouraging appropriate behaviour is hard work, difficult for parents or a single
parent alone, and far more easily achieved within a hunter-gatherer community
which collaborates extensively with childcare (Hrdy 2011) and with
collaborative responses to any anti-social behaviour in adults (Boehm 2012).

A conscious awareness of the societies being created

A concern with providing guidance and being firm about behaviours which
affect others is driven by a broader understanding and a conscious awareness of
the societies that hunter-gatherers create, as illustrated by a quote from a
Jo’huansi elder:

When a young man kills much meat, he comes to think of himself as a chief
or big man, and he thinks of the rest of us as his servants or inferiors. We
can’t accept this. We refuse one who boasts, for someday his pride will
make him kill somebody. (Lee 1979, 246)

These comments display a remarkable wisdom, as well as a willingness to put in

the hard work which maintaining egalitarianism and inclusion entails. In a small
scale context, to feel that any difference made one better than others would be a
damaging attitude, playing into the ranked mentality we inherit from ape
ancestors rather than the collaborative egalitarian attitudes typical of hunter-
gatherers. Moreover, seeing the world through the eyes of a ranking system, in
which one is either better or worse than others is associated with higher rates of
depression and anxiety (Gilbert et al. 2009). Such a spirit of equality fits well
with an autistic concern for fairness and justice, and with a need to understand
the social basis of rules.

Conclusions
The experience of life with autism in past hunter-gatherer societies
The experience of life with autism, whether experienced by the individual as a
condition which affects their functioning, asa cognitive difference or elements of
both, is likely to have been very different in small scale hunter-gatherer societies.
We know that different communities have different effects on the expression of
traits of autism, as different cultures also have an influence on the expression of
different traits of autism (Matson et al. 2011).
For most individuals with autism, life as a child is mostly likely to have been
much easier in small scale hunter-gatherer societies. Many of the particular
stressors which affect children with autism in modern society are not a feature of
small scale hunter-gatherer societies. There are no sensory stressors, such as
bright lights, loud noises or crowds, nor are there demands to meet and socialise
with strangers in novel settings. Moreover, hunter-gatherer children typically
experience much more tolerant parenting styles than do children in agricultural
and later societies (Hewlett and Lamb 2005). Children spend most of their times
playing together, and are typically given exceptional freedom, not being
expected to make any economic contribution until well into adulthood. Jean
Brody, for example, describes how Inuit adults felt that it was not their place to
impose times when they should be asleep (Brody 2002). Hunter-gatherer
caregivers are more responsive to crying than are those in agricultural societies,
and hunter-gatherer infants in turn cry less (Hewlett, Lamb and Leyendecker
2000). Added to which, as we have seen, children have many caregivers,
including not only an extended family but most of the group they belong to, and
there is thus no one person who might be overwhelmed by challenging
behaviour. Expectations of social behaviour are different. Many modern
educational supports provided to modern autistic children are geared towards
expectations such as sitting at a desk or contributing in class, which are not
relevant in such societies.
How would autism feel in such societies? Our culture doesn’t only affect how
we behave but also how we feel about ourselves. Living within societies with
strict egalitarian ethics and no concept of ‘disability’, individuals with autism
will not have felt different or any less valued than others (Kapp 2011). More
than this, however, concepts of self are different in small scale hunter-gatherers.
Rather than seeing themselves as individuals, people see themselves as part of a
wider whole, made up of their relationships to the people around them (Bird-
David 1999). In this sense, a hunter-gatherer concept of self is perhaps
something more in keeping with the rather less focused concept of self
experienced by individuals with autism (Lombardo et al. 2010), contrasting with
modern industrialised society’s sharply demarked perception of the self as
individual and separate from others (Heinrich et al. 2004). Both in a real sense,
and in terms of how they felt, individuals with autism are likely to have been
very much part of society.
Suggestions for the role of individuals with autism often focus on such
individuals surviving or finding roles in past societies as solitary or notably less
social individuals (Reser 2011; Lomelin 2011; Ploeger and Galis 2011). What an
understanding of hunter-gatherers makes clear, however, is that no-one survives
in such contexts alone, nor as in any way anti-social, and that most individuals
with autism would instead be within society. As we saw in chapter two,
individuals with autism are better seen as differently social. Integration within
hunter-gatherer societies is likely to have been based on this different sociality.
We might imagine individuals similar to many famous scientists (Fitzgerald and
O’Brien 2007) making contributions to technology or innovation, others
contributing to rules and justice, or others living their lives as part of
communities in their own way and influencing those around them in less
tangible but no less significant ways.

Past and present hunter-gatherer societies and inclusion

Far from the competitive and anarchic places the media often portray, hunter-
gatherer societies are highly structured, and their harmony is the product of hard
work. Inclusion is an important principle and the social context they create
promotes the expression of individual talents and the accommodation of
vulnerabilities. It isn’t difficult to see how complementary skills are encouraged
and supported.
Unsurprisingly, the support and integration of communities can play a key role in
the outcome of individuals with autism today, even in the most severely affected
cases. Donvan and Zucker describe the case of Donald Grey Triplett, one of the
first individuals diagnosed with autism (Donvan and Zucker 2016). Like Temple
Grandin, Donald was seen as a severe case. As a child he focused only on
objects, paying little if any attention to people, and his speech was repetitive and
made little sense to others (Silberman and Sacks 2015). Thanks to the support of
his parents and his community, the small town of Forest in Mississippi, he did
not stay in an institution but was supported by his family, went to school and was
integrated into a society who are very protective of him. He drives a car, lives
independently and travels. He is, of course, still severely affected by autism, but
he lives a happy and productive life and those around him have learnt to value
and respect him (Donvan and Zucker 2016).
Clearly the lives of individuals with autism are not dictated by their condition
but rather reflect the communities of which they are a part.
We have argued that after 100,000 years ago particular elements of human
societies developed where traits of autism could be valued and individuals with
autism could be supported and protected from exploitation or bullying.
Is there any further evidence that human communities after 100,000 years ago
played a key role in the inclusion of autism?
Some evidence comes from genetics. Genetic studies suggestively support the
concept of an extended inclusion of autism within populations of our own
species emerging around 150,000 years ago. Robert Bednarik (2013) notes that
two of the many genes implicated in autism, AUTs2 and CADPs2, are found
within the modern human but not Neanderthal genome (Green et al. 2010).
Oksenbeg and others argue that AUTS2, in particular, appearing after the split
between our own lineage and Neanderthals at around 500,000 years ago, makes
a significant contribution to modern autism (Oksenberg et al. 2013).
Furthermore, the evolutionary history of other genes and gene sequences support
this position. Research has recently shown that DNA flanking 15q13.3 is also
associated with autism and found only in the human and not Neanderthal
genome (Antonacci et al. 2014) and that uniquely human copy number variations
in 16p11.2 associated with autism likely are unique to modern humans and arose
in the past 183,000 years (Nuttle et al. 2014). With over 1000 genes implicated
in autism, further research is needed to unravel the complex genetics of its
evolutionary history (Liu et al. 2014). Nonetheless, the timing of inclusion of
these genes thus provides some support for the argument that the social and
technological changes emerging after 100,000 years ago and which were
described in chapter one could have been influenced by the inclusion of autism
within populations.
We can’t go back to the societies of the past, but as we move forward we can
learn from a sense of community and of shared humanity that is often lost, and
from the significance of inclusion and a willingness to help everyone to
contribute in their own way.

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CHAPTER FIVE: Autism needs communities
and communities need autism
I think that we can't go around... measuring our goodness by what we don't do.
By what we deny ourselves, what we resist, and who we exclude. I think... we've
got to measure goodness by what we embrace, what we create... and who we
include.
(Pierre Henri, in Chocolat, based on the novel by Joanne Harris)

Overview
We started this book with a question of whether diversity had been more
important in human evolution than we have imagined and whether autistic
individuals, sometimes portrayed today as having a disorder, made an important
contribution to human evolutionary success.
In chapter one, we considered the debate over explanations for traits of autism in
European Ice Age art. As we have seen, many people are unwilling to link Ice
Age art, seen as the flowering of humanity, to autism, sometimes portrayed as a
disorder. The question of traits of autism in art is more complex than it might
appear, however. Upper Palaeolithic art is more ubiquitous than is often assumed
and plays a greater role in everyday life. Moreover traits of autism in this art are
so widespread and yet so diffuse that they cannot be linked specifically to
individuals with autism. Understanding such traits demands a better
understanding of both autism itself and the integration of individuals with autism
into societies of the distant past.
In chapter two we considered autism itself. Autism is sometimes a condition
which severely affects life and for such individuals the term ‘disability’ is
usefully retained as a necessary part of accessing social support. For many
people on the autism spectrum, however, particularly those with Asperger
syndrome, their autism is sometimes a challenge, and sometimes requires
accommodation, but also brings certain benefits. We question whether autism
should be seen as a disorder, or whether it would be more correct to term it a
difference which is part of natural human variation and which brings with it
unique skills and talents as well as deficits. We argue for a new definition of
autism.
In chapter three we considered the evolutionary context of how disability and
vulnerability affected the social lives of individuals from the earliest ancestral
ape societies onwards. We saw that a remarkable level of support was available
for vulnerabilities, whether short or long term, in the highly cohesive societies
emerging from several million years ago. Autism is part of our distant human
genetic inheritance and individuals with autism, even if severely affected, are
likely to have been included in such societies, influencing those around them.
In chapter four we considered the emergence of hunter-gatherer societies similar
to those seen today. We see that various characteristics of such societies will
have removed many of the social disadvantages which autism brings, and
provided opportunities for individuals with autism to play an important role. In
such societies, individuals with autism may have found specialised roles which
build on their strengths.

Autism and human evolutionary success

It isn’t difficult, in the light of the talents associated with autism which were
highlighted in chapter two, to see how the inclusion of individuals with autism is
likely to have influenced technological developments emerging after 100,000
years ago.
Firstly, exceptional skills and a unique focus in mathematics, chemistry and
engineering may have contributed to novel and significant technologies
appearing after 100,000 years ago, such as heat treatment of flint raw materials
(Brown et al. 2009), project point technology (Shea 2006), microlithic and
compound technology (Brown et al. 2012), complex adhesives (Wadley,
Hodgskiss, and Grant 2009) or poisons (d’Errico et al. 2012).
Secondly, a drive to record complex patterns, and skills in understanding
complex natural systems seems an obvious contributor to the development of
calendrical systems (Hayden and Villeneuve 2011). Depictions of maps or
astronomical calendars draw on talents often expressed by those with autism and
may have been influenced by the interests and abilities which come along with
traits of autism. We saw in chapter two that many individuals with autism have
remarkable visual memory, ability to see the world from above (as in Stephen
Wiltshire’s drawings) and both an interest in astronomy and remarkable abilities
in calendrical reckoning. Recording natural systems is also comforting for
individuals with autism (Goodchild 2010), as well as being potentially useful to
a wider community. This doesn’t mean that such objects were necessarily made
by individuals with autism, even though they might have been; however, it
certainly shows that such traits were valued and respected. Their creation might
have been driven by the interests and motivations which are commonly
associated with autism. Moreover it isn’t difficult to see how useful such maps
and calendars may have become in challenging and risky environments.
The emergence of specific specialised roles, although very unlikely to have been
restricted to individuals with autism, nonetheless provided opportunities for such
individuals with highly technical minds, well suited to the focus, patience and
attention to detail demanded, to have an acknowledged contribution. Such roles
are likely to have been particularly in evidence in ecological contexts where
technology was essential to survival, such as in high latitudes. It is even possible
that colonisation of such latitudes demanded a widening of human personality
variation to include greater expression of traits of autism.
Lastly, the emergence of new, connected societies, with long distances links and
support networks across large regions, may also have been influenced by the
presence of individuals willing to impose the rules which allow co-operation
amongst peoples who rarely meet each other. Large scale social networks also
begin to appear after around 100,000 years ago (Bouzouggar et al. 2007).
A collaboration between different minds may have been critical to the success of
our species. Individuals with autism needed the right communities in order to
thrive and for talents to be respected and valued. However, in many cases
communities also needed individuals with autism.

Autism and European Ice Age art

What insights can our understanding give us to the question of European Ice Age
art which started our discussion in chapter one?
A focus on autism as part of communities rather than as exceptional individuals
is a more constructive means to understand traits of autism in Ice Age art. We’ve
seen that necessarily associating Ice Age art with exceptional genius is probably
misguided. Some cave art undoubtedly shows a marked talent, and is moving
and evocative in its realism. However, there is a much greater body of art which
is more everyday and also less perfectly executed and so suggestive of a process
of learning, such as art seen in domestic contexts, in rock shelters, for example,
and on everyday objects such as hunting weapons. Equally, portraying
individuals with autism as exceptional geniuses is just as unrepresentative. Of
course some individuals with autism are extremely talented artists. However,
autism is not a particularly rare condition and individuals with autism are fully
part of society, using their particular focus and skills to make their own
contributions in an integrated way.
In relating both Ice Age art and autism to the exceptional we miss what art can
tell us about the inclusion of individuals with autism within communities. Rather
than who made the art, or even who deciphered the art, we should instead ask
what a focus on traits of autism implies about the inclusion of individuals within
autism within Ice Age cultures.
As we have seen many traits of autism are important to survival in extreme
environments. Rather than exceptional individuals outside societies, individuals
with autism integrated within communities provide a focus for such skills to be
retained, learnt and applied, and thus expressed in art.
We saw in chapter four that attention to detail was important in creating the type
of technology which allowed the Inuit to survive in their harsh environments.
Focus on detail, precision and innovation in technology were essential to
survival and seen as respected skills by these cultures. These same
characteristics are seen in both art and in stone tool technology in Ice Age
Europe. An attention to detail, and a remarkable focus, comes naturally to many
with autism. However, for those who are neurotypical, individuals with autism
can be part of learning these important skills, much as today many engineers
have Asperger Syndrome and influence how others understand their precise
technical view of the world. Learning and displaying an attention to detail in art
is likely to have been part of a cultural respect for these skills (whether in those
with autism or those who are neurotypical) in past cultures.
An acute visual perception of what is really there is also vital to subsistence, and
typically learnt by hunter-gatherers through experience and the examples of
others. Such attention to visual details is especially important in identifying well
camouflaged prey at a distance, and in risky environments with no ‘second
chances’ at a kill mistakes can cost lives (Bleed 1986). Individuals with autism
are more reliant on visual thinking to understand language (Kana et al. 2006) and
perceive visual details far more clearly than do those who are ‘neurotypical’
(Mottron et al. 2006; Happé and Frith 2006; Smith and Milne 2009; Meilleur,
Jelenic, and Mottron 2015). Whether this is the numbers on lampposts which
draw the attention of autistic children (but which the rest of us don’t notice) or
the fine details in a scene, having autism means that you tend to see the world
somewhat differently. Autistic individuals with autism would have a certain
advantage in having a system of visual perception already attuned to identifying
animals from fine details, and be able to remember and reproduce these details in
art, as well as de-code the details from the art.
What comes naturally to those with autism, seeing the world the way that it is,
and representing it as such, can be learnt through training and practice by those
without the condition (Cohen and Bennett 1997). In fact, much of modern
training in art involves exactly this learning to see the world as it is, against our
neurotypical intuition (Edwards 1999). Sacks, for example, describes how
Monet’s description of how to draw (having learned to analyse the shapes in
what one sees) is similar to the way in which Stephen Wiltshire innately ‘sees’
his world (Sacks 1994). Without such training we tend to draw what we think we
see, making heads, hands or feet larger due to our own perceptual focus. As with
following careers in analytical science, the plastic mind of the artist becomes a
little more autistic and less intuitive in its perceptual focus, in this case on visual
images (Kozbelt 2001; Vogt and Magnussen 2007). Only after an artist can ‘see’
the world autistically can they then return to their intuition to introduce
deliberate changes to affect the emotional response in the observer. Hunters have
to learn to see differently, and that art reflects how people then see the world
around them. Hodgson has shown, for example, that that the key identifiable
visual elements of game animals, as seen from a distance, are typically those
features represented in hunter-gatherer art (Hodgson 2013). The profile views of
animals, and often only the head or back, are often shown as that is the way that
hunters learn to see the world, which then seems to be reflected in their art.
Much as written language changes how we perceive the world (Decety et al.
2012) the influence of autism integrated within society does likewise.
Does this remarkable and accurate visual depiction and interpretation of Ice Age
art illustrate that Ice Age populations integrated different ways of seeing the
world and in a sense through autism as part of society had learnt to see ‘through
autistic eyes’? We would argue that it does.
 Figure 5.1. Survival in the Ice Age depended on a remarkable vision, and remarkable skill. The Chauvet
lions could have been created by someone with autism, but it is more probable that they were created by
someone neurotypical who respected and learnt an autistic vision.

What the art may be telling us about is a respect for autistic vision and inclusion
of individuals with autism. What is important is not therefore the individual artist
but that art appears to demonstrate to us that people in the Ice Age learnt and
respected an autistic way of seeing the world that is then reflected in their art.
Everyone has to make up their own mind about the significance of European Ice
Age art to the question of the role of autism in the distant past. We would argue
that traits of autism in European art reflect the influence and inspiration of an
autistic view, which came about because of the contribution of communities to
autism, and of autism to communities.
 Bibliography
Bleed, Peter. 1986. “The Optimal Design of Hunting Weapons: Maintainability
or Reliability.” American Antiquity 51 (4). Society for American Archaeology:
737–47.
Bouzouggar, Abdeljalil, Nick Barton, Marian Vanhaeren, Francesco d’Errico,
Simon Collcutt, Tom Higham, Edward Hodge, et al. 2007. “82,000-Year-Old
Shell Beads from North Africa and Implications for the Origins of Modern
Human Behavior.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the
United States of America 104 (24): 9964–69.
Brown, Kyle S., Curtis W. Marean, Andy I. R. Herries, Zenobia Jacobs, Chantal
Tribolo, David Braun, David L. Roberts, Michael C. Meyer, and Jocelyn
Bernatchez. 2009. “Fire as an Engineering Tool of Early Modern Humans.”
Science 325 (5942): 859–62.
Brown, Kyle S., Curtis W. Marean, Zenobia Jacobs, Benjamin J. Schoville,
Simen Oestmo, Erich C. Fisher, Jocelyn Bernatchez, Panagiotis Karkanas, and
Thalassa Matthews. 2012. “An Early and Enduring Advanced Technology
Originating 71,000 Years Ago in South Africa.” Nature 491 (7425): 590–93.
Cohen, D. J., and S. Bennett. 1997. “Why Can’t Most People Draw What They
See?” Journal of Experimental Psychology. Human Perception and Performance
23 (3). psycnet.apa.org: 609–21.
Decety, Jean, Greg J. Norman, Gary G. Berntson, and John T. Cacioppo. 2012.
“A Neurobehavioral Evolutionary Perspective on the Mechanisms Underlying
Empathy.” Progress in Neurobiology 98 (1): 38–48.
d’Errico, Francesco, Lucinda Backwell, Paola Villa, Ilaria Degano, Jeannette J.
Lucejko, Marion K. Bamford, Thomas F. G. Higham, Maria Perla Colombini,
and Peter B. Beaumont. 2012. “Early Evidence of San Material Culture
Represented by Organic Artifacts from Border Cave, South Africa.” Proceedings
of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America 109 (33):
13214–19.
Edwards, B. 1999. “The New Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain: The
1999.” Penguin.
Goodchild, Chris. 2010. A Painful Gift. Andrews UK Limited.
Griffin, J. 2006. “Autistic Tendencies: The Consequences for Our Culture.”
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Happé, Francesca, and Uta Frith. 2006. “The Weak Coherence Account: Detail-
Focused Cognitive Style in Autism Spectrum Disorders.” Journal of Autism and
Developmental Disorders 36 (1): 5–25.
Hayden, Brian, and Suzanne Villeneuve. 2011. “Astronomy in the Upper
Palaeolithic?” Cambridge Archaeological Journal 21 (03). Cambridge
University Press: 331–55.
Hodgson, Derek. 2013. “The Visual Brain, Perception, and Depiction of Animals
in Rock Art.” Journal of Archaeology 2013 (July). Hindawi Publishing
Corporation.
Kana, Rajesh K., Timothy A. Keller, Vladimir L. Cherkassky, Nancy J.
Minshew, and Marcel Adam Just. 2006. “Sentence Comprehension in Autism:
Thinking in Pictures with Decreased Functional Connectivity.” Brain: A Journal
of Neurology 129 (Pt 9): 2484–93.
Kozbelt, Aaron. 2001. “Artists as Experts in Visual Cognition.” Visual Cognition
8 (6): 705–23.
Landau, M. 1993. Narratives of Human Evolution. Yale University Press.
Meilleur, Andrée-Anne S., Patricia Jelenic, and Laurent Mottron. 2015.
“Prevalence of Clinically and Empirically Defined Talents and Strengths in
Autism.” Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders 45 (5): 1354–67.
Mottron, Laurent, Michelle Dawson, Isabelle Soulières, Benedicte Hubert, and
Jake Burack. 2006. “Enhanced Perceptual Functioning in Autism: An Update,
and Eight Principles of Autistic Perception.” Journal of Autism and
Developmental Disorders 36 (1): 27–43.
Sacks, O. 1994. “An Anthropologist on Mars: Seven Paradoxical Tales. New
York: Alfred A.” Knopf. Shoemaker, S.(1994). Phenomenal Character.
Shea, John J. 2006. “The Origins of Lithic Projectile Point Technology:
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Smith, Hayley, and Elizabeth Milne. 2009. “Reduced Change Blindness
Suggests Enhanced Attention to Detail in Individuals with Autism.” Journal of
Child Psychology and Psychiatry, and Allied Disciplines 50 (3): 300–306.
Vogt, Stine, and Svein Magnussen. 2007. “Expertise in Pictorial Perception:
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 Conclusions
Our understanding of autism, particularly in its social context, is still in its early
stages. In the future we are likely to see new and important insights into not only
autism itself but also how it shapes society. Moreover, further research may
contribute a great deal to our understanding of autism in past societies. Direct
evidence for autism in prehistory is limited, prompting us to draw from different
lines of research to develop our understanding of the deep past of autism – from
the study of genetics, of primates, of psychology and neuroscience, of modern
hunter-gatherers and of the archaeological record. Even that limited
understanding, however, reflecting as it does an early stage in this research,
nonetheless argues that it is already time to consider a new story of human
origins, one in which autism played an important role.
We have found that autism has been part of the human evolutionary story from
the very beginning. We saw in chapter three that we share traits of autism with
other apes and even monkeys, and that individuals with autism are likely to have
been present even before human ancestors split from the line which led to other
apes. Individuals with autism are likely to have been nurtured by their mothers,
but only as ancestral societies became more collaborative after around three
million years ago would any group support have begun to be available. Whilst
human groups place emphasis on social skills, technological skills also become
increasingly significant to human survival as evidenced by increased
sophistication of stone tools and reliance on meat eating. Roles for individuals
with autism, based on the social and technical talents defined in chapter two,
may not have appeared until relatively late in human evolution, around 100,000
years ago. However, as we see in chapter four, modern hunter-gatherers provide
us with insights into how those who were different may have been included in
small scale human societies at this time, and traits of autism help explain several
characteristics of the archaeological record which appear after this date, explored
in chapters one and chapter five, particularly in high latitude environments.
Our review of the available evidence suggests that autism was a significant
element of human adaptation, that insights from the past can inform our
understanding of autism within communities and, lastly, that it is time to re-write
our story of human origins.

Autism as a significant element to human adaptation

We argue that autism, and the diversity of cognition of which autism is a part, is
likely to have become particularly significant to human evolutionary success
from at least 100,000 years ago as a result of three major changes in human
society and adaptation.
Firstly, and most importantly, collaborative morality brought with it focus on
group rather than individual survival, placed the focus on shared judgements of
others rather than individual alliances and prompted a shared attention to
harmony and inclusion. This social focus allowed individuals with relative
weaknesses in area of complex social skills but strengths in compensatory areas
to be protected from bullying or exploitation, and supported and included,
allowing them to make a significant contribution (Spikins, Wright, and Hodgson
2016).
Secondly changes in population structure allowed roles for individuals with
autism to develop. Rising population density, related in part to a more gracile
skeletal adaptation, meant that individuals further along the autism spectrum
were more likely to be present in any group. Moreover, improved linkages and
alliances between groups and higher levels of intergroup mobility allowed those
with special skills and talents to gain respect in a wider region. Furthermore, an
emphasis on rule based collaboration between groups provided roles for
individuals concerned with fairness and rules.
Thirdly the colonisation of increasingly difficult habitats, such as extreme cold
and northern latitudes, as well as substantially variable environments, placed an
emphasis on complex technological adaptations and innovations, realms within
which individuals with autism or individuals with traits of autism could
contribute in important ways to survival.
Several authors argue that agricultural societies emerging in Later Prehistory
provided particular roles for people with autism (Del Giudice et al. 2010;
Charlton and Rosenkranz 2016). This may be the case. However, we would
argue that the origins of an inclusion of such individuals in society and their
contribution to survival lies far earlier.

Autism within communities

Insights from the past have also lead us to argue for a new model of autism as a
balance of skills and weaknesses which contributed an important role in the story
of human origins. We argue for a new view, one in which we recognise that not
only do individuals with autism needs communities but communities need
individuals with autism.
Communities need traits of autism – because autism contributes a unique and
valuable way of seeing the world, unique technological talents and focus, and
abilities in imposing the rules and fairness that encourage cooperation. And at
the same time, individuals with autism need communities – because
communities provide support, guidance, complementary talents and a source of
respect and appreciation.

A new story of human origins?

Our story of human origins needs to include, rather than exclude, autism.
However, writing a new story of human origins about diversity and inclusion is
not necessarily easy. Whilst we are all capable of viewing others equally, our
ancestral primate minds can tempt us to want to be better, whether we are
neurotypical or autistic, or indeed different in any way. Whoever we are, we all
too easily fall into the temptation to see the human evolutionary story as the
progressive development of our mind and thus past innovations become our
inventions in a narrative from which it is difficult to escape. If we are autistic we
would like an evolutionary story in which autism plays the leading role, whereas
if we are neurotypical we wish evolution to be our story. As we have seen,
however, to be human is not to have one particular type of mind, but to be part of
a complementary balance between people. Our new story cannot be about one
mind or another but about what happens between them.
To understand the role of autism in past communities we also need to stand back
from the values and preconceptions of our own society. In our society, with our
modern commercial view of the world, we often seem to value people according
to their achievements or practical contributions. However, this is not the case in
small scale hunter-gatherer societies in contexts in which life is intimate and
personal. To see the story of the inclusion of individuals with traits of autism as
being merely about their value, talents or skills relevant to survival would be to
miss the relevance of autistic diversity to what makes us human. Individuals
with autism are likely to have been integrated because those around them cared
about inclusion and group harmony, as we have seen from the inclusion of
individuals with physical disabilities in chapter three, but moreover valued
individuals with traits of autism for who they were.
It is easy to write a new story, but it is far more important for all of us to write a
shared story, one which is no longer about one single mind, and which respects
the contribution of both autistic and neurotypical ways of thinking. From the
foundation on which our past was built it is clear that our future may depend on
it.

Bibliography
Charlton, Bruce, and Patrick Rosenkranz. 2016. “Evolution of Empathizing and
Systemizing: Empathizing as an Aspect of Social Intelligence, Systemizing as an
Evolutionarily Later Consequence of Economic Specialization.” The Winnower
April 20th 2016.
Del Giudice, Marco, Romina Angeleri, Adelina Brizio, and Marco R. Elena.
2010. “The Evolution of Autistic-like and Schizotypal Traits: A Sexual Selection
Hypothesis.” Frontiers in Psychology 1 (August): 41.
Spikins, Penny, Wright, Barry and Hodgson, Derek. 2016. “Are There
Alternative Adaptive Strategies to Human pro-Sociality? The Role of
Collaborative Morality in the Emergence of Personality Variation and Autistic
Traits.” Time and Mind: The Journal of Archaeology, Consciousness and
Culture.
 Image Attributions
Introduction
Figure i.1. Figure 1: Human evolution – the story of just one mind and one type
of person?
Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Chapter One
Figure 1.1 Engraving of a mammoth on a bone found in excavations at La
Madeleine, France in 1864. This is an illustration from the book Kameno doba
by Jovan Zujovic (1856-1936), published in Belgrade in 1893. The copyright of
this book is expired and this image is in the public domain.
Figure 1.2 The ceiling at Altamira, discovered in 1895. Altamira Museum.
Figure 1.3 Detail of bison at Altamira. Museo de Altamira y D. Rodríguez.
Figure 1.4. Nicolas Humphrey compared depictions of horses from Chauvet
Cave (upper left) and Lascaux Cave (lower left) with drawings made by Nadia, a
talented child with severe autism (right, at 3 years 5 months). With kind
permission of Nicolas Humphrey.
Figure 1.5. Horse and rider completed at approximately 5 years 6 months by
Nadia Chomyn.
Figure 1.6. Horse by similar aged girl, Chloe Garcia-Argote Walker.
Figure 1.7 Panel of engravings at the right-hand wall of the sanctuary at Les
Trois Freres, France, showing complex overlapping animal forms (from drawing
by Abbe Breuil).
Figure 1.8. A horse from Lascaux. Replica in the Brno museum Anthropos.
Source Wikimedia Commons.
Figure 1.9. Bison from the cave of La Covaciella, Spain. Bison Panel rupestre
pintado con figuras de bisontes en la gruta de La Covaciella, yacimiento
arqueológico situado en el concejo asturiano de Cabrales, en la zona de Las
Estazadas, España. Réplica por Matilde Múzquiz y Pedro Saura.
Figure 1.10. Frieze of lions at Chauvet cave, which may have been drawn to give
an impression of movement under flickering light. This is a replica of the
painting from the Brno museum Anthropos.
Figure 1.11. Swimming stags at Lascaux Cave, which may represent either
several individual stags or a single stag in motion. BernieTaylor permission as
part of Wikimedia Commons.
Figure 1.12. Reindeer engraved on a rib from the site of Courbet, Southern
France.
Figure 1.13. Bison drawn on water worn pebble from the site of Montrastruc,
southern France. Wikimedia Commons from British Museum Ice Age Art event
2011.
Figure 1.14. Spear-thrower shaped as a mammoth, from the site of Montrastruc,
France.
Figure 1.15. Decorated antler chisel from the site of Courbet Cave, southern
France.
Figure 1.16. The abri blanchard plaquette, showing the phases of the moon and
its position in the sky (authors’ own drawing).
Figure 1.17. Microliths, tiny and highly standardised bladelets with backed
edges, come into the archaeological record after 100,000 years ago. They rely on
highly precise flint working and are designed to create maintainable weapons,
with each microlith a replaceable point on a long shaft. Source: Wikimedia
Commons, José-Manuel Benito Álvarez.
Figure 1.18. Plaquette 662 from Montrastruc. Image by Anne Sieveking from
British Museum open online catalogue.

Chapter Two
Figure 2.1: AQ scores of 557 randomly selected undergraduate students at York
University, showing autism cut off point. With thanks to the Chronic Diseases
and Disorders Fund (Wellcome Trust) at the University of York for a grant to
pursue the project ‘Lost in Translation: Autism and Material Culture’.

Chapter Three
Figure 3.1. Bonds between our mothers in our nearest living relatives
(chimpanzees) and their infants are strong, and mothers go to great length to
nurture and support their young. Source: Wikimedia Commons.
Figure 3.2. This handaxe, from Olduvai Gorge, dating to 1.2 million years old,
illustrates an increasing technological skill and attention to aesthetics and
symmetry in stone tools.
Source: Wikimedia Commons, from display in the British Museum.
Figure 3.3. Homo erectus, with a larger body form, increased brain size and
more complex technology appeared around 1.8 million years ago. Source:
Wikimedia Commons, from reproduction of a Homo erectus female in the
Smithsonian Museum of Natural History.
Figure 3.4 A ‘toothless’ crania from Dmanisi in Georgia, dating to 1.8 million
years ago, has been argued to be evidence of food provisioning of those who
were vulnerable. Source: authors’ own drawing.
Figure 3.5. A layer of bone in the femur of a female dated to 1.6 million years
ago illustrates that she had severe hypervitaminosis and must have been looked
after for several weeks before her death. Source: authors’ own drawing.
Figure 3.6. Care and support was widespread by the time of archaic humans such
as Neanderthals.
Source: Neanderthal reconstruction from Neanderthal museum (Wikimedia
Commons).
Figure 3.7. The arm bones of the Shanidar Neanderthal illustrate his disability,
which was supported by the rest of his group for 10-15 years. Source: authors’
own illustration.

Chapter Four
Figure 4.1. The spread of human populations after 100,000 years ago, authors’
drawing.
Figure 4.2. Photograph of an Inuit man with a kayak, by Edward Augustus
Inglefield, in 1854.
Figure 4.3. An umiak, Grantley Harbor, Alaska, ca. 1904.
Figure 4.4. Traditional qamutik (sled), Cape Dorset.Photograph by Ansgar Walk,
source wikimedia commons.
Figure 4.5. Inuit goggles, made of caribou antler and caribou sinew.
Figure 4.6. A group of initiates at the inter-group Chiexaus ceremony of the
Yamana, photographed in 1922. Open access image no 48.

Chapter Five
Figure 5.1. Lions painted in the Chauvet Cave. This is a replica of the painting
from the Brno museum Anthropos.
 About the Authors
Penny Spikins is a Senior Lecturer at the University of York. She is interested in
the evolution of cognition and emotions, including differing cognitions, trust and
social emotions, and has published numerous papers on these topics as well as a
recent book: How Compassion Made Us Human: The Evolutionary Origins of
Tenderness, Trust and Morality, Pen and Sword, 2015.
Barry Wright is Professor of Child mental health at Hull York Medical School.
He has been a national Health Service consultant for over twenty years. He has
published research into autism in journals such as Autism, Journal of Autism and
Developmental Disorders, Clinical Child Psychology and Psychiatry, PlosOne
and BMJOpen.
 Copyright
Text copyright © 2016 Penny Spikins and Barry Wright
Cover image: Katya Zenina
This version is published under a Creative Commons Attribution-
NonCommercial-NoDerivatives licence. This licence allows the content to be
downloaded and shared with others, as long as attribution is credited to the
original. The content may not be re-used commercially or altered in any way,
including re-use of only extracts or parts. To view a copy of this licence, visit
here.
 About Rounded Globe
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 Table of Contents
Contents
Preface – what terms to use?
Introduction
CHAPTER ONE: Traits of autism and the archaeology of the Palaeolithic
CHAPTER TWO: New perspectives on autism
CHAPTER THREE: Autism and earliest human origins
CHAPTER FOUR: 100,000 years ago onwards – autism and prehistoric hunter-
gatherer societies
CHAPTER FIVE: Autism needs communities and communities need autism
Conclusions
Image Attributions
About the Authors
Copyright
About Rounded Globe