The Austism Trick
by Jon Rappoport
March 28, 2011
Imagine this. Your child is in an automobile accident, and he is injured. At the hospital, the attending doctor says, “Your boy’s symptoms indicate he has disease X.”
“What?!” you say. “The car he was in was just hit by a truck!”
“Doesn’t matter,” the doctor says. “We have to treat disease X with drugs.”
“He needs emergency surgery!”
“No. That won’t cure X.”
Impossible, right? Well, read on, because…
Let’s say you think your child may be autistic. You’re not sure. He’s withdrawn. He rarely speaks. He sometimes has outbursts. He doesn’t have full physical coordination. He twists his fingers a lot.
You take him to a doctor, who observes him and administers various cognitive tests. Then the doctor asks you questions.
The questions are about behaviors of your child, of course. You answer patiently, and at the end of the interview the doctor says, “Your son has autism.”
You say, “Aren’t there any definitive blood tests or brain scans?”
The doctor says, “Well, we know it’s a brain disease. Neurological. But there are no ironclad physical tests for it. If I put your child through a brain scan, I could find abnormalities and show them to you.”
“But?” you say.
“These abnormalities aren’t exactly the same for every autistic child. Therefore, they wouldn’t amount to a certain diagnosis of autism.”
You’re puzzled and confused.
You take your child home and you discover there is something called the DSM. It’s the official bible of mental disorders, published by the American Psychiatric Association. Each disorder is described, and the criteria for diagnosis are laid out clearly. So you look up autism. (The complete diagnostic guide for calling a child autistic can be found, for example, at www.autreat.com/dsm4-autism.html) You’re rather amazed, because the defining symptoms are ALL behavioral. There are NO precise biological, chemical, or physiological elements or tests.
Instead, you find: “…failure to develop peer relationships…a lack of seeking to share enjoyment…preferring solitary activities…delay in, or total lack of, the development of spoken language…”
You go back to the doctor and report your confusion.
“It sounds like autism is a social behavior,” you say.
“Well,” the doctor says, “of course it’s not just that. It’s organic. Physical. The brain is malfunctioning. We know that.”
“If you know,” you say, “why aren’t those factors listed in the criteria for diagnosing autism?”
“Because, as I told you last time, the physical symptoms in the brain aren’t the same for each autistic child.”
“Then.” you say, “maybe each child that has different brain problems has a different condition.”
“No, no,” he says. “If that were true, we would be looking at hundreds of different diseases.”
“And?”
“We aren’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because the behavioral characteristics that allow us to diagnose autism are spelled out.”
“In the DSM,” you say.
“That’s right.”
This sounds like circular reasoning to you.
“But those are just…behaviors,” you say. “They don’t add up to a disease.”
He shrugs.
“It’s the best we can do at the present time,” he says. “We’re getting closer to a solution. We strongly suspect autism is genetic. I mean, ultimately we know it is, but we haven’t found the particular gene or genes that control it.”
“You suspect, but you don’t know.”
He frowns.
“Look,” you say, “suppose we start from the premise that my son is unique. That whatever caused his problems has to be found by examining him, not by referring to a menu of behaviors in the DSM.”
The doctor looks puzzled.
“Let me tell you what I mean,” you say. “When he was two, he received several vaccines, and within a week his whole life changed. He stopped talking. He had a high fever for a few days. His coordination began to deteriorate…”
The doctor smiles condescendingly.
“Look,” he says, “we know vaccines don’t cause autism. We’ve found children who have autism who’ve never received vaccines.”
“Well,” you say, beginning to see the light, “that’s what I’m talking about. Since the definition of autism is based on these behavioral criteria and nothing else, that doesn’t really add up to a disease. In the case of my son, let’s just throw out the word “autism.” Let’s put that word in a drawer and shut the drawer and forget about it. Instead, let’s say there is a good chance my son is suffering from vaccine damage. Let’s call it Vaccine Damage. And let’s see what we can do to reverse that.”
“Ridiculous,” the doctor says. “Your son has autism. I’ve diagnosed over five hundred cases, and I know it when I see it.”
“You know the definition,” you say. “And you live by the definition. That doesn’t make it right.”
Anger begins to creep in at the edges of the doctor’s face.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I can’t continue this conversation.”
“Then just listen,” you say. “My son received heavy metals in those vaccines…a form of mercury, which is a known neurotoxin. Why wouldn’t we consider that a possible cause of everything he is suffering from, the situation that has no name. Maybe he still has that poison in his body, and maybe there is a way to get rid of it.”
The doctor shakes his head.
“One more thing,” you say. “A good friend of the family has a daughter who was diagnosed with autism a few years ago. Turns out she was poisoned by several chemicals in the water that went to their house. I’m not speculating. This was discovered. Then they found ways to get that poison out of her system, out of her body—and her recovery, over time, was remarkable. Because first they had pinpointed the cause. IN HER UNIQUE CASE.”
“No,” the doctor says. “You want to know what that was? That was a misdiagnosis of autism. She never had it.”
“No, Doctor,” you say. “You can’t have it both ways. She was diagnosed by a specialist, and he consulted the DSM definition of autism, and he found she fit it to a T. There was no doubt.”
The doctor shakes his head.
“Well,” you say, “if I accept your diagnosis, what treatments can you offer my son?”
“We can’t treat the cause, because we don’t know what it is. But we can treat the symptoms and alleviate them.”
He hands you a chart of drugs used to treat autism symptoms. They include, first, stimulants (speed-type drugs): Adderall, Dexedrine, Dextrostat, Ritalin. Other such drugs.
Then antidepressants, such as: Prozac, Paxil, Zoloft.
Then anti-psychotic drugs, such as: Clozaril, Haldol, Mellaril.
Then so-called mood stabilizers, such as: Depakote, lithium citrate, and lithium carbonate.
“Doctor,” you say, “I’ve read literature on all these drugs. They have VERY serious side effects.”
“They work,” he says.
You suddenly realize that the application of the label “autism” to your child is the gateway to the drugs. The label opens that door to all the drugs’ adverse effects. Now you feel the power of a label and definition isn’t just a toy. It has real consequences.
You review the situation in your mind. Your son, your particular son, who has just been diagnosed with a generalized word called “autism,” based on a list of behaviors in the DSM, and who is now a candidate for some very serious and heavy drugs, was injured by a vaccine badly when he was two years old. That fact has no bearing on this doctor’s analysis or proposed treatment. This doctor asserts that your son has autism because his behavior fits the behaviors listed in the DSM, and that rules out the possibility that he is suffering from vaccine damage, because there are other children who have been diagnosed with autism who never received vaccines.
You want the doctor to forget the label “autism” and get to the heart of the matter, but he says he IS at the heart of the matter.
You are faced with a no-win situation. The doctor has engaged you in his brand of circular reasoning, and it is lethal.
You gather your wits, and you form a question.
“Doctor,” you say, “let me pose this. This is all theoretical, all right? Let’s say I bring my son to a practitioner who has a method for taking the mercury out of his body. Let’s just imagine that for a second. And let’s then say that, afterwards, my son recovers many of his lost abilities. Over time. The recovery is visible to all. Then I come back to you and report this. WILL YOU THEN SAY YOUR DIAGNOSIS OF AUTISM WAS INCORRECT? WILL YOU AUTOMATICALLY SAY MY SON NEVER HAD AUTISM?”
There is a space of silence.
Then the doctor says, “If that happened, I would indeed tell you my diagnosis of autism was incorrect.”
“Why?”
“Because if your son had autism—and he most surely does have autism—the notion of removing a little mercury from his body—if someone could really do that—would be irrelevant. It would never cure him to any degree.”
“So,” you say, “I should forget about trying any method of removing mercury from his body.”
“That’s right,” he says. “That’s right. Forget about it.”
In your mind, you hear a very heavy door slam shut. Somehow, the very real possibility of attacking what may be the cause of your son’s problems has been ruled out.
“Doctor,” you say, “I don’t understand the modern definitions of insanity that are listed in the DSM, but I can tell you that you are quite, quite insane.”
Again, he smiles condescendingly.
“If I didn’t think it might bring on a law suit,” he says, “I would consider that you are insane and suggest an exam.”
Jon Rappoport
The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at www.nomorefakenews.com