From the Inside Out

A Reading List in the Spirit of Tōjisha-Kenkyū · 当事者研究


Within Tōjisha-kenkyū lies the potential of rearranging the relationship between the tōjisha (the person with lived experience of the condition being studied) and the specialist — in other words, between experienced knowledge and specialized knowledge. . . . The mutual respect from the tōjisha and the specialist for each other’s knowledge, along with the collaborative efforts between the two sides, will surely help restore trust to academic knowledge. — Kumagaya and Aono (2019)


This list builds outward from the experience of people with sensory, cognitive, behavioral, emotional, somatic, and relational differences — toward frameworks for self-understanding in community, in explicit challenge to clinical epistemology. Organization is simply my brain’s way of dividing things up. You may see a better option.

Please note: I have included direct links where possible for accessibility, because I believe these many voices need to be amplified in public discourse. That being said, most of these are works by living authors who deserve all of out support and respect. Many works will be available from public or university libraries, but consider purchasing works directly from authors when possible. I have avoided the big marketplaces where possible.

Please let me know about any errors or dead links. This will remain the canonical version of my reading list. It is a living document, and will receive periodic updates and changes.

rag


I. Tōjisha-Kenkyū: The Tradition Proper

Self-directed research by and for people with lived experience. Emerged from Bethel House (浦河べてるの家), a psychiatric survivor community in Urakawa, Hokkaido.

Bethel: Community and Schizophrenia in Northern Japan · dir. Nanako Kurihara · documentary film
The most accessible English-language entry point to the Bethel House community and its practice of communal self-study. Watch before reading about it.
link to film at archive.org

Tōjisha-kenkyū · Satsuki Ayaya & Junko Kitanaka · Aeon Essays (12 June 2023)

Traces the practice from its 1980s origins at Bethel House in Urakawa, Hokkaido — where people with schizophrenia became “researchers” of their own experience — through its expansion into University of Tokyo labs, corporate workplace design, and dementia care. The most accessible English-language survey of the tradition’s full arc, from grassroots peer support to institutional citizen science.

article in Aeon Magazine

Japanese Journal of Disability Studies · journal (ongoing)
Primary source venue. Some issues contain translated material. Bethel’s own publications (some translated) are the primary sources for the collection of scholarship.

online access


II. The Neurodiversity Paradigm

The paradigm shift from pathology to variation — and the political history of that shift.

“Don’t Mourn for Us” · Jim Sinclair · 1993 · essay (free online)
Short, essential, foundational. The tōjisha moment in anglophone autism discourse. Read first.

online article: tw: poor formatting

Introductory chapter coining “neurodiversity” · Judy Singer · 1998 · thesis excerpt (free online)
Thin but foundational. The term’s origin. Worth reading for genealogical purposes even where the theory has been superseded. Provenance has been disputed. Offered for historical context.

pdf

NeuroTribes · Steve Silberman · 2015 · book
Historical and narrative. Recovers suppressed neurodivergent voices and challenges the Kanner/Bettelheim lineage. Strong on the politics of who gets to define a category.

pdf

Neuroqueer Heresies · Nick Walker · 2021 · book
The clearest single articulation of the paradigm shift from pathology to variation. Also theorizes “neuroqueer” as both identity and praxis — the intersection of neurodivergent and queer self-determination.

author’s website

Unmasking Autism · Devon Price · 2022 · book
Strong on the masking/performance/harm nexus. Accessible and grounded in lived account. Good for understanding the cost of performing neurotypicality.

publisher’s website

ASAN (Autistic Self Advocacy Network) · institutional primary source
“Nothing About Us Without Us” as organizational praxis. Foundational documents available free at autisticadvocacy.org.

website tw: bad formatting


III. Monotropism: A Generative Framework

Organized around deep, channeled interest rather than distributed attention. Explains a remarkable range of autistic experience from one structural principle — including interest-driven cognition.

“Attention, Monotropism and the Diagnostic Criteria for Autism” · Dinah Murray, Mike Lesser, Wenn Lawson · 2005 · journal article (Autism)
The original paper. Proposes that autistic cognition channels attention into deep interest-tunnels rather than distributing it across a broad field. Has the quality of a good structural analogy: makes many things make sense at once.

link to article

Writings at monotropism.org · Fergus Murray · online essays (free)
Ongoing development of monotropism as a full cognitive and phenomenological framework. Murray is autistic; the writing enacts what it describes.

website


IV. The Double Empathy Problem: Shifting the Frame

The unit of analysis shifts from the individual to the relationship. The “deficit” is in the interface, not the person.

“On the Ontological Status of Autism: The Double Empathy Problem” · Damian Milton · 2012 · journal article (Disability & Society)
Probably the most important single paper in autism studies in the last two decades. Demonstrates that the “empathy deficit” is a bidirectional relational misfire — a cross-neurotype translation problem — not a unilateral autistic failure. Reframes the social difficulty structurally.

pdf version

Subsequent empirical validations of the double empathy problem · Catherine Crompton, Kilee DeBrabander, Brett Heasman, Damian Milton & Noah Sasson · 2020s · journal articles (synthesized in an open-access primer)

The core empirical program, led largely by Crompton’s group at Edinburgh, has tested Milton’s 2012 theory directly: diffusion-chain studies show information degrades fastest in autistic/non-autistic pairs and holds together equally well in same-neurotype pairs (autistic-to-autistic or non-autistic-to-non-autistic); rapport studies find matched-neurotype pairs consistently rate each other higher regardless of which neurotype is matched; and later work (Jones et al., 2023) shows even outside observers detect and rate mixed-neurotype interactions as more strained. Together these findings relocate the “problem” from autistic deficit to bidirectional mismatch—the mechanism Milton proposed but could not yet demonstrate.

author summary


V. Indigenous Knowledge Systems and Neurodivergence

Where the double empathy problem relocates deficit from person to interface, these sources relocate the interface itself — showing that “neurodivergence” is a category produced by the collision of Indigenous cosmology with settler-colonial diagnostic apparatus, not a universal biological fact awaiting local color.

“Indigenous Autism in Canada: A Scoping Review” · Grant Bruno et al. · journal article
Bruno (Samson Cree Nation, Maskwacîs, Treaty 6 territory, Alberta) is a pediatrics researcher and father to autistic children; his scoping review maps the near-total absence of Indigenous-specific autism research and names the extractive-research skepticism that any future work has to earn its way past. Founder of the Indigenous Caregiving Collective and Ispimihk Awâsisak (Sky Children).

link to article

“The Gift of Being Different” · Grant Bruno (project lead) · 18-minute documentary (free online)
Short-form, community-facing entry point paired with the scoping review above. Good to watch before reading the academic literature, in the same spirit as the Bethel documentary in Section I.

youtube

Indigenous Perspectives on Autism and Neurodiversity, with Grant Bruno and Otilia Johnson · Uniquely Human podcast, episode 123 · Jan 2025
Bruno in conversation with Otilia Johnson (Cora Nation, Nayarit, Mexico), both parent-professionals. Focused on what non-Indigenous clinicians and systems would need to unlearn, and on what Cree and Cora understandings of raising a “different” child already do well without a diagnostic apparatus.

link to episode

“We Just Took Care of Each Other”: Exploring Cultural Understandings of Neurological Conditions · Melissa Joan Blind · 2017 · PhD dissertation, University of Arizona (American Indian Studies; chair: Mary Jo Tippeconnic Fox)
The title is the finding: a community account of how neurological difference was held before — and often without need of — clinical categories. Structurally close kin to tōjisha-kenkyū’s community-first epistemology, arrived at independently. Contact author directly for copies.

dissertation page

Scholarship of Dr. Sandra Yellowhorse (Kinyaa’áanii, Diné/Navajo) · ongoing academic work, Critical Indigenous Disability Studies
Works from Diné storytelling and land-based knowledge to reframe “disability” — recovering ancestral stories that treat sensory and cognitive difference as a form of relation to land and community rather than a medical deficit. The load-bearing move: disability-as-story and disability-as-diagnosis are different genres with different truth conditions, and the second did not exist before contact.

link to publications page

Indigenous Autism Research Special Interest Group · International Society for Autism Research (INSAR), 2025 meeting
Not a single text but a convening — self-advocates, service providers, and academics building a shared methodological paradigm shift away from deficit-based, Western-normed research and toward Indigenous-led, strengths-based, relationship-first models. Useful as a map of where the field’s live edges currently are.

IARSIG repository


VI. Mad Studies and Psychiatric Survivor Paradigm

The Western parallel to tōjisha-kenkyū — rougher-edged and more politicized. Survivor knowledge as a distinct epistemological category, not merely a perspective to be “included.”

On Our Own · Judi Chamberlin · 1978 · book
Foundational survivor-led critique of psychiatric institutionalization. The original “nothing about us without us.” Establishes that people labeled mentally ill are the experts on their own experience.

pdf

A Straight Talking Introduction to Being a Mental Health Service User · Peter Beresford · book
Beresford’s theoretical work on survivor knowledge as an epistemological category is the key contribution; this is the most accessible entry point.

borrow from archive.org

Accepting Voices · Marius Romme & Sandra Escher · 1993 · book
The foundational text of the Hearing Voices Movement. Voice-hearers studying their own experience: structurally parallel to tōjisha-kenkyū. Romme was a psychiatrist who took his patient’s challenge seriously enough to redesign his framework.

transcript of lecture

Decolonizing Global Mental Health · China Mills · 2014 · book
Extends the critique to how Western psychiatric categories are exported as universal — particularly relevant for multilingual, multicultural community contexts.

publisher

Anatomy of an Epidemic · Robert Whitaker · 2010 · book
Empirical critique of the biological-disease model using the field’s own long-term outcome data. Argues that psychiatric medications worsen outcomes over time for many people. Not fringe — based on published literature.

borrow at archive.org

buy from publisher

VII. The Power Threat Meaning Framework

The most ambitious attempt to replace diagnostic categories with a framework organized around lived experience and social context. Developed with survivor collaborators.

The Power Threat Meaning Framework · Lucy Johnstone & Mary Boyle (eds.) · 2018 · book / free PDF (British Psychological Society)
Four organizing questions replace diagnostic categories: What has happened to you? What threats did you face? What meanings did you make? What are you doing to cope? Explicitly anti-nosological. Worth reading critically — the language sometimes remains too professional-class, but the structural move is essential.

pdf


VIII. Phenomenology of Embodied and Cognitive Difference

Philosophical grounding for why first-person accounts carry epistemological weight — and why clinical knowledge structurally cannot access certain things from outside.

Illness: The Cry of the Flesh · Havi Carel · 2008 · book
Uses Merleau-Ponty to argue that illness is a transformation of the lived body that clinical knowledge structurally cannot access from outside. The gap between disease and illness is where tōjisha-kenkyū lives.

publisher

The Meaning of Illness · S.K. Toombs · 1992 · book
Phenomenological. Distinguishes disease (biomedical object) from illness (lived experience). Essential vocabulary for articulating what clinical frameworks miss by design.

pdf repository

The Social Construction of What? · Ian Hacking · 1999 · book
The “looping kinds” concept: psychiatric and psychological categories interact with and reshape the people they categorize. Deeply relevant to the experience of receiving a diagnosis — the category changes what it names.

borrow at archive.org

“What Is It Like to Be a Bat?” · Thomas Nagel · 1974 · essay (free online)
Old but essential. The irreducibility of subjective experience to third-person description. Philosophical foundation for the epistemological claim that lived experience cannot be fully translated into clinical observation.

pdf


IX. Backgrounding and the Master Model: Val Plumwood’s Ecofeminist Philosophy

Not a text about neurodivergence, but the deepest structural diagnosis of the logic that produces its mistreatment. Plumwood names the operation by which mastery renders what it depends on invisible — the same operation that lets diagnostic and portability systems consume the coverage-range labor of neurodivergent people while categorizing the residue as deficit. Included because she has greatly influenced my thinking, and everyone should know about her.

Feminism and the Mastery of Nature · Val Plumwood · 1993 · book
The master text. Develops “hyperseparation” and “backgrounding” — the twin moves by which a dominant self defines itself against a subordinated other (nature, women, the colonized) and then treats its dependency on that other as beneath notice. Chapter 2, “Dualism: The Logic of Colonisation,” is the direct ancestor of any argument that a classification system naturalizes an extraction it cannot admit to needing.

pdf

Environmental Culture: The Ecological Crisis of Reason · Val Plumwood · 2002 · book
Extends the master model from metaphysics into culture and reason itself — argues that instrumentalizing rationality is not a neutral tool misapplied but a rationality already structured by mastery. The closer companion, of the two, to an argument about diagnostic and credentialing systems as rationality-with-a-standpoint rather than rationality-as-such.

borrow at archive.org

“Being Prey” · Val Plumwood · 2000 · essay (free online; originally Aeon/Utne Reader)
Plumwood’s own near-fatal crocodile attack, narrated as a forced first-person confrontation with the fact of being food — of ecological dependency and vulnerability that mastery had trained her to disavow. Tojisha-kenkyū in an ecofeminist register: the theorist made to live inside the collapse of her own master-story.

doc

The Eye of the Crocodile · Val Plumwood (ed. Lorraine Shannon) · 2012 · book, posthumous / free PDF (ANU Press)
The fuller philosophical working-through of “Being Prey,” left unfinished at her death. Reflects on predation, death, and the ecological self with the same precision she brought to dualism — essential for anyone using backgrounding as a diagnostic lens beyond its original domain.

pdf


X. Crip Theory and Disability Studies

Political philosophy of disability as a social and structural relation, not a property of individuals. Challenges cure-orientation and futures organized around normalization.

Feminist, Queer, Crip · Alison Kafer · 2013 · book
Best single-volume introduction to crip theory. Challenges the assumption that disability is a problem to be solved — and that the future should be organized around its elimination.

pdf

Crip Theory · Robert McRuer · 2006 · book
“Compulsory able-bodiedness” as a structure analogous to compulsory heterosexuality. Crip and queer theory in productive dialogue.

borrow at archive.org

“Access Intimacy” and related essays · Mia Mingus · essays (free at leavingevidence.wordpress.com)
What it feels like when someone else gets your access needs without performance or resentment. A phenomenological concept with no clinical equivalent — it describes the relational texture of belonging rather than accommodation.

blog post

Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice · Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha · 2018 · book
Disabled femme of color perspective. Mutual aid, collective access, community care as political and somatic practice. Enacts as much as it argues.

pdf

Skin, Tooth, and Bone: The Basis of Movement Is Our People · Sins Invalid · 2016 · book / zine
Disability justice framework from a BIPOC-disabled-led collective. Justice over access, liberation over inclusion. The political grammar for this whole list.

pdf


XI. Community Care and the Mutual Aid Frame

Self-understanding is not only individual — it is generated and sustained in relation. These texts theorize the community infrastructure that makes that possible.

Mutual Aid: Building Solidarity During This Crisis (and the Next) · Dean Spade · 2020 · book
Short and structural. Distinguishes mutual aid from charity at the level of power analysis. Directly relevant to sliding scale and care economy models.

author’s website

Leaving Evidence (blog archive) · Mia Mingus · online essays (free)
Years of writing on interdependence, disability justice, access, and community. One of the richest single archives for this project.

author’s website

Writings on interdependence and disability justice community · Stacey Milbern · essays / talks
Milbern died in 2020. Her writing on collective care, community as survival, and disabled joy remains essential.

collected works and essays


XII. Connective Threads and Further Directions

Works that cross the above categories or point toward territory not yet mapped.

The Examined Life · Stephen Grosz · 2013 · book
Psychoanalytic case studies written as literature. Not politically aligned with the above, but valuable for the phenomenological precision of its attention to how people make meaning of difficulty — including the ways that meaning-making resists clinical interpretation.

archive.org

All the Weight of Our Dreams: On Living Racialized Autism · Lydia X. Z. Brown, E. Ashkenazy, Morénike Giwa Onaiwu (eds.) · 2017 · anthology
The intersection of autism and race, written entirely by autistic people of color. Expands who “neurodivergent self-understanding” is allowed to include.

pdf

Emergent Strategy · adrienne maree brown · 2017 · book
Organizing, relationship, and social change through the lens of complexity and adaptation. The structural thinking maps well onto neurodivergent community-building and non-normative institutional design.

pdf at archive.org


Addendum: The Diagnostic Apparatus Itself

Hans Asperger, National Socialism, and “race hygiene” in Nazi-era Vienna · Herwig Czech · 2018 · journal article (open access)
The primary-source archival case: Asperger did not resist Nazi child-euthanasia policy, he administered it. Drawing on personnel files and clinical assessments Asperger himself wrote, Czech documents dozens of referrals to Spiegelgrund, the Vienna clinic where children Asperger deemed “ineducable” were killed. The diagnostic category and the eugenic sorting mechanism share an author.
PDF at ResearchGate

Asperger’s Children: The Origins of Autism in Nazi Vienna · Edith Sheffer · 2018 · book
Extends Czech’s archival case into a full institutional history: the 1940 Vienna conference where child psychiatry formalized eugenic selection as doctrine, and the vocabulary of “social integration” that let some children be classified as treatable and others as disposable. The diagnostic frame of high-functioning vs. low-functioning autism has this sorting logic as its direct ancestor.
PDF at ResearchGate

Suffer the Restless Children: The Evolution of ADHD and Pediatric Stimulant Use, 1900–1980 · Rick Mayes & Adam Rafalovich · 2006 · journal article (open access PDF)
Traces ADHD’s diagnostic lineage from “minimal brain damage” through encephalitis-linked “organic drivenness” to DSM-III’s 1980 codification — a diagnosis that changed names five times without stable underlying criteria, each renaming driven as much by institutional and pharmaceutical interest as by new evidence.
PDF

Opening Pandora’s Box: The 19 Worst Suggestions for DSM-5 / Psychological Warfare: The DSM-5 Debate · Allen Frances & Robert Spitzer · 2009–2012 · essays/commentary
The two chairs of DSM-III and DSM-IV, from inside the institution, on how DSM-5 criteria were actually set: closed-door committees, confidentiality agreements barring public review, and diagnostic thresholds loosened without proportionate evidence. This is the methodology critique from the people who ran the methodology.
Scribd

Race and Sex Bias in the Autism Diagnostic Observation Schedule (ADOS-2) · Kalb et al., commentary · 2022 · journal article (open access)
What DSM-based instruments still get wrong: the ADOS-2’s underlying behavioral profile was built on white, male samples, and it systematically underestimates autism features in Black children and girls. This is the mechanism, not just the outcome — diagnostic disparity is built into the tool, not layered onto clinician bias.
PMC

The Autism Matrix: The Social Origins of the Autism Epidemic · Gil Eyal · 2010 · book
The wider historical claim: autism’s visibility didn’t track a biological epidemic, it tracked the 1970s deinstitutionalization of “mental retardation” as a category. Where deinstitutionalization went furthest (Scandinavia, UK, US blue states), autism diagnosis rates rose highest; where it didn’t happen (France), they stayed low. The disorder category expanded to fill the institutional space vacated by an older one.
Wiley Online Library


This is a living document, to be extended as time allows. Drop me a line and suggest an addition.

unfit

fitness, in the modern economy, is the ability to engage in any given task, for as little or as long as one is conscripted, without asking what the project contributes to;

propelled onward by a belief that the designers of the project have our collective interests in mind;

that the project is always becoming more refined;

and that today’s toxic inefficiencies are excusable, being that they contribute to our salvation as a species.

understanding this, my unfitness makes much more sense to me, and i embrace it wholeheartedly.

call to action: mutual support for Tammy Zo

Our friend Tammy Zo (Pollard) needs our support. She is homeless, and in grave danger of losing her belongings, many of which are cultural archives and work that she has created herself. The fact that she needs our support is a consequence of our culture’s failure to maintain mutual support networks independent of institutional channels, and failure to recognize the long arcs of creative people in our communities—especially women—and their support needs.

I have written about this before, and will continue to do so. In healthy societies, where everyone knows one another and recognizes everyone as valuable, care is a distributed function of the economy—not merely transactional. Child-rearing is a community responsibility, not isolated within a nuclear family. People who function as culture-bearers are supported by people who function as food processors, and tradespeople, and caregivers.

In our modern society, each person is expected to be their own provider, caregiver, support person, as well as generating some economic surplus to feed the institutional economy. This is not sustainable, especially for many culture-bearers, whose sensory and cognitive architecture is often arranged to process a specific field of knowledge in a very deep way. People that are wired to do specific work are often pushed into work environments that are hostile to their nervous systems, and the burden of adaptation is placed on the individual rather than the workplace.

Some creatives are able to find support through project management—grant writing, proposals, partnerships that enrich institutions while meeting the needs of the creative person. Some are able to work this particular landscape to meet their personal needs along with that of their work. Unfortunately, even in the best of times, these processes are not easy for someone to manage alone—again, I’m emphasizing this idea of distributed care. In our current economy, cultural institutions that thrived for decades are being shuttered due to lack of funding. Tammy’s situation is the downstream consequence of this cultural drought.

Certain people are the sensory apparatus of the community. What sounds like a personal cry for help is actually an alert to the larger processes that are happening around us. We have often been trained to dismiss people asking for help as irresponsible, as disorganized, as failing to manage resources.

But if we understand that funding for creative and cultural institutions is hemorrhaging right now, (I can provide receipts if you’re interested), we will understand that the suffering and dire straits of our creative friends in our communities is not a matter of personal failing, but of a lack of scaffolding—we haven’t built in the horizontal networks that support us when the vertical infrastructure evaporates.

And furthermore, the burden falls more cruelly on women creatives, who are expected to provide emotional labor for their communities, while still remaining legible in their creative pursuits—which often require long periods of gestation (artworks and cultural curation projects require no less expenditure of energy than children). Women who are struggling are often perceived with less sympathy and understanding than their male peers, as their need is read as a failure of a provider of emotional support to provide. This is an unspoken agreement that is devastating in reality. Many will not recognize it, but for many, it is just the way every day is organized.

At some point, it would be a good idea to set up community institutions to provide support to creatives in times of need. In the meantime, we need to recognize moments when individuals need our support, and do what we can. There are a number of ways to support our friend in her time of need.

  • Tammy has a GoFundMe set up:
    https://gofund.me/682f7220e
  • PayPal:
    @tammyzopollard
  • Venmo:
    @tammyzo
  • Access to stable housing (so important for creatives who need stability to collect their materials and thoughts)
  • Personal storage space that is not time-limited and subject to seizure (this can be any secure, unused space—an attic, basement, outbuilding)
  • Access to regular safe quiet space, independent of housing
  • Access to restorative care, such as bodywork, massage, engaged conversation, body doubling, walking and movement partnership
  • Access to arts and cultural funding through grant-writing for specific projects
  • Access to nutrition
  • Access to unstructured social time enjoying one’s surroundings and the simple joy of being together

Thanks for listening, and please consider how you can be an agent of support for the culture and bearers of the community, who define our values and identities.

isolation ↔️ resolution

the etymology of the term ‘autism’ derives from an idea that a person with autistic traits is somehow isolated in a world of their own, that others can’t reach.

i would offer that this is exactly wrong, and a projection by an observer with a mindset built from a variety of assumptions that prevents them from understanding the way the observed person moves through the world.

the isolation being described is that of the observer, not the observed. an isolation from nature, and from processes that take place across long arcs, and within complex systems.

and this isolation prevents the observer not only from understanding the observed, but from understanding their own true nature, and the ways that certain qualities that appear awkward in a limited social context are vital for the human project as it plays out in relationship with nature, the earth, and the universe.

for this reason, i advocate for new language that acknowledges the contribution of the person who moves across a longer arc; whose body remembers what has always been important, even when people in the room have forgotten; whose mind forgets what is not important, even when the people in the room are catastrophizing about a missed deadline; whose presence requires the room to reassess what is important at every turn; whose character collects specific fields of information that, when recognized, enrich the community in unmonetizable ways.

so, i’m going to be speaking in awkward sentences, as i try to articulate the experience, from the inside, of a person who recognizes something of what is important; who recognizes and loves themselves and those around themselves; and who is unsatisfied with the direction that a large swath of humanity has taken—away from nature, and a harmonious relationship with the universe.

sometimes, in coming to our senses, it’s important to disengage from a compulsion to make sense. thank you for your attention to this matter.

Toe-walking: red flag, or somatic wisdom?

The adaptation-to-pathology pipeline, pt 1

This series explores human traits and behaviors that are pathologized in the modern Western office-industrial complex, with the intent to spark cross-cultural discussion, and reassessment of what it means to be divergent.

Two gait strategies, same anatomy, different verdicts—depending on what the ground is asking of the foot, and who’s asking the questions.

Toe-walking—prioritizing the ball of the foot in walking or running—does not appear in the DSM as such, but it is often used as a red flag to point to a possible diagnosis of autism—toe-walking correlates with a sizable subset of the autistic population. Let’s look at this phenomenon not as an individual trait, but as a response to an environment.

Emplaced-culture gait: where the foot meets varied, unmediated terrain—sand, root, gravel, cold stone, hot earth—a forefoot-first strike is adaptive, not a symptom. The ball of the foot reads the surface before committing weight to it, spring-loads the arch, and keeps the heel (a poor sensor, a good lever) out of the way until footing is confirmed. Populations who walk barefoot or minimally shod tend to show exactly this pattern. The ground has information in it, and the gait evolved to read that information continuously. Toe-first contact is like sensory antennae, extended forward. It is notable that many world cultures with a strong emphasis on running or walking over distance run barefoot or in sandals, using a toe-forward gait.

Portable culture gait: removes the variable terrain and replaces it with a manufactured constant: flat, predictable, shock-absorbed by shoe rather than by joint. Once the surface stops asking questions, heel-strike walking becomes viable—even efficient—because the environment is made invisible. The built environment doesn’t just tolerate rearfoot gait, it produces it, and then quietly promotes it to the definition of “normal.” Change what the environment offers, and you change which body-strategy counts as competent. The downside is the collapse of the body’s locomotor mechanism, arguably brought on by cushioning and a flat-footed gait, considering the West’s reliance on orthotics and adaptive footwear to compensate for the abandonment of a naturally adaptive gait.

When a child keeps toe-walking on a surface engineered to not need it, human behavior hasn’t changed—the semantic frame around it has. In an emplaced culture, toe-walking is terrain-reading. In a portable culture accustomed to a manufactured environment, with the terrain-reading no longer required, the same motor pattern reads as excess—unexplained, and therefore suspect, and therefore diagnostic. Idiopathic toe walking gets pathologized, and its strongest correlate—autism—gets folded in via the sensory-seeking hypothesis: forefoot strike and calf loading generate more proprioceptive signal per step.

Read with care, that’s not dysregulation: it’s the nervous system requesting the same ground-information that emplaced walkers require from the natural environment. In a sense, it is a refusal to abandon an adaptation to a natural environment, and to take for granted that the floor will always be flat.

Recognizing toe-walking as a somatic or behavioral difference isn’t wrong; it’s just wrong to fail to recognize that it is an adaptive mechanism being used across natural and constructed environments—and that there may be some somatic wisdom in maintaining this adaptation.

Portable culture manufactures a flat, silent world, then treats any body still listening for natural variation as broken.

Considering this, what do we have to learn from emplaced, barefoot cultures? What are we willing to give up in assuming that the future is a manufactured environment, that places no demands on the body to read the room?

There is something in the body that is always listening. Let’s run with that.

care is more than a brain tumor

Many traditional cultures around the world—what I would call emplaced cultures—have sustained populations for millennia, within different watersheds, meeting different needs with different answers. Care distributed through community and across generations, calibrated to the place the community inhabits.

Western medicine arrives with its own language—what is right and observable in every case across place and time, with the body as the background—dismissing what it can’t quantify and trace to prior research. Its real achievement is mechanism. It can name an endocrine disorder, or sequence the removal of a tumor. Many traditional wisdom traditions had their own explanations for these conditions—accounts Western science now treats as unsatisfactory and obsolete.

But Western medicine is not famous for tracking complex systems. What environmental conditions produce disease and mental illness at population scale? What cultural practices sustain quality of life across a community? Western science is moving in those directions, but movement is slow.

Many traditional cultures solved these problems long ago, in the social organization itself—health is in how we live together, not in how many reps we do of an exercise. They simply didn’t pursue the technology needed to solve the tumor and the endocrine disorder—social order took precedence over bodily order. Different priorities, different unsolved problems.

The trade, plainly: traditional culture does 95% of the work of keeping a community healthy. Western medicine covers the remaining 5%—acute care—and offers almost nothing for the rest, beyond aphorisms about getting enough exercise and eating healthy. Western medicine is a scalpel. What’s happening is the scalpel is being used to excise whole communities to solve one liver disease.

What we’re seeing now is that traditional communities across the Global South are sending their people into Western medical training—for community service, but also for advancement, and for escape from poverty. In the process, traditional practices are being abandoned, either willfully or by neglect, in pursuit of this specialized 5% of care needs—missing that the other 95% was vital infrastructure, only invisible because it was unmonetized.

The question isn’t whether to let Western methods in. It’s how to let them in without letting them replace what they can’t see—infrastructure that was already doing work in spheres well beyond health. What strategies might result in sustainable culture with a net gain, rather than a trade?

The community might send someone already recognized as a healer to study advanced medical interventions for acute needs. Or a second person in the traditional care economy might be sent to work alongside the healer, rather than instead of them.

The boundary between emplaced and portable doesn’t need to be a wall. It only needs each side to keep its debts—emplaced culture answerable to land and ancestors, portable culture answerable to what it can actually prove.

The innovations Western culture offers can be enticing and addictive—like social media. A firm grounding in systems that have served communities across time keeps those innovations from pulling humanity off course.

Normalize casual intimacy.

I’m a bi-gender person—masc and femme together in parallel unison. Like a Tootsie Roll, a Twinkie, a Ho-Ho, or a KitKat, I have a more brittle, masc outer layer; and a creamy, femme inner core.

The femme part of me has been surprised when I have proposed activities to femme friends that I think of as normal and platonic, like getting together to braid one another’s hair or do nails or other grooming activities, along with gossip and food and music. The response I’ve gotten doesn’t tell me that the idea is being rejected because it came from someone with a masc presentation, but just that the idea itself feels icky or weird or frivolous, regardless of who proposed it.

I think we’ve reached a time of cultural compression when the the need to mask in public makes casual intimacy too costly—if we forget for a couple of hours that we’re supposed to be competing with one another, and stepping on one another’s shoulders and fingers and toes, we’ll miss an opportunity for social advancement. Moments of casual intimacy remind us of the brutality of the work environments we operate within, and since it seems that brutality is unavoidable, it is the intimacy that becomes the thing to avoid.

And since I experience this casual intimacy as a kind of vitamin—an important part of a balanced social diet—I recognize that we have created a condition where everyone is starved of something that would always be available if we would collectively let down our guard and stop performing invulnerability. We hunger for it, but someone’s rules say that we are only allowed to experience it within a contractually sanctioned relationship, so when we get feelings outside of those pigeonholes, there is a conflict—between the natural tendency toward connection, and the imposed imperative to suppress the connection.

This being so, I own that I will always be perceived as too much—”too familiar,” “flirty,” “inappropriately intimate,” “overly emotional,” “dramatic,” “too informal,”—simply because I refuse to accept the inevitability of the brutality that many people face in their work and social environments. I refuse to suppress the natural tendency toward connection. I refuse to impose a contractual constraint on where I experience intimacy. I feel it is actually my whole job to remind my community that productivity is not the goal, that free time is a virtue to be cultivated, and that casual intimacy is our actual settled and natural state.

That being so, I might describe the grief I feel about the loss of a loved one in the middle of a work meeting. I might express that an interaction with an especially loud and reckless motorcycle made me feel vulnerable when applying for a business license. I might point to the behavior of a person in a management position, and show how that person is taking an opportunity to punch down, rather than being accepting, inclusive, and supportive. “Too much” means “not silent,” and in spaces where we are expected to disappear, “not silence” equals “too much.”

And to be clear, what I am calling intimacy has nothing to do with sexuality or even physical touch. Intimacy is simply the willingness to return to our basic, true character in the presence of another, and to drop the mask that work and social navigation require of us. Intimacy is simply abandoning the performance of invulnerability for a moment or two. Intimacy is simply acknowledging the fiction of independence, and experiencing the wonder and joy of interdependence, even if only for a couple of moments.

At the present moment, I propose that the most radical and revolutionary act we can engage in (but the most powerful, since we can engage in it any time) is simply the act of casual intimacy—when we acknowledge that each of us has a way that we care for ourself, and that we could just as easily care for one another in the same moment.

As we brush our hair, realize that we could be engaging in casual intimacy by brushing someone else’s hair. As we manage our pet’s excrement on a walk, realize that we could be engaging in casual intimacy by helping a loved one who needs support to manage their excrement. As we feel a moment of grief for the loss of a loved one, recognize that we could just as easily feel a moment of grief alongside a friend who is experiencing a similar moment.

I propose that the more we engage in casual intimacy, the less we demand that our contractual relationships fulfill our needs for intimacy, and that that quality in itself is liberating to both sides of our relationships.

So, on that note: let’s get together soon to braid each other’s hair, or do our nails together, and have some snacks and music and gossip time, and maybe cry about our dog that just died, or about the parent that doesn’t remember us that we are caring for.

In this economy, this is the type of care that cannot be monetized, and that is only available to the privileged. Let’s privilege one another with casual intimacy, and invite whomever we can into that state of privilege—because if everyone is included in it, it is no longer a privilege, but a right—simply a natural state of being, around which we organize ourselves, around everyone’s comfort, and not just our own.

Normalize casual intimacy.

‘ey, aye

all of the reasons to hate ai and to love ai are valid, to a point. it does things for us that are helpful to have done for us. it does things to us that are harmful to have done to us.

the main thing we should focus on is what it requires of us. it requires that power be centralized in such a way that concerns about water and land use are deprioritized. it requires that people who don’t have our best interests in mind influence elections. it requires that we relinquish our rights to our own ideas in the tos agreement required to use it.

ai is not local: it requires centralized control of a vast network of resources from around the globe. it doesn’t fit in a backpack.

ai is not democratic: the algorithms that deliver it’s results are designed by a small team that does not answer to us. it doesn’t respond to community review.

ai is not neutral: it’s knowledge base is a collection of writings that represents centuries of colonizers writing about encounters with beings deemed lesser. it doesn’t weight indigenous voices higher.

ai is not embodied: nothing in its database includes information that can only be experienced through the senses. it didn’t smell what you smelled.

ai has not experienced loss: it can tell you what grieving people have said, but it cannot experience their pain, and console you in the ways that only someone who has experienced loss can console you. it can’t adjust the way you’ve adjusted.

ai has never attended a birth, nor tasted the final breath of a loved one. it doesn’t know the poem your mother needed to hear for comfort.

ai is a performance by someone who was never there, but who requires you to hand over all rights to land, water, minerals, species diversity, diplomatic nonpartisanship, labor justice, bioregional congruity, indigenous stewardship, ecosystem integrity, economic equity, cultural heritage, family legacy, intellectual architecture, emotional elaboration, and environmental renewal.

but it’s so convenient. i’ll give it that.

The Mammoth Hunter

How Making Sense of My Child’s Cannabis Use Helped Me Understand The Beauty of Human Adaptation

Does Domestication of the Human Species Really Represent Our Shared Future on the Planet?

My almost-adult child is a gifted and challenged person, navigating the transition to adulthood in post-industrial American society. They’re a systems thinker, who aces every test, and who also can’t sit still or conform to the demands of a quiet workplace or a grid-based schedule. They often miss appointments due to oversleeping, and sometimes sleep for periods that don’t align with respectable industrial grid time.

They are highly engaged in any task at hand, but have difficulty playing the long game of connecting with a regular schedule. They pick up new skills very quickly, but express little interest in developing any of those skills into something that, in a modern context, looks like a career.

The environments they express the most affection for are highly cooperative: soccer is a big one; skateboarding in community, where peers are moving together, both in synchronous and asynchronous formations; making public art in strategically complex spaces, that require collaboration to envision, coordination to plan, and cooperation to execute. They are the epitome of the team player, as long as the team has a clear plan that serves the collective need for transparent and direct expression of experience in a creative and innovative way.

Making Sense of the Early Adult Drive for Autonomy and Relevance

My child’s challenges have moved them toward strategies to mitigate those challenges, and cannabis has been a recurring strategy that serves some need.

As an engaged parent, who is trying to nurture their adult child’s independence, while managing my alarm when witnessing behaviors that appear problematic, or as leading toward future failure to integrate into the workplace, I’ve been trying to make sense of what I’m seeing: a young person who is fiercely dedicated to their friends; who takes pride in a complex task well-executed; who resists being pigeonholed into existing categories of social, ideological, economic, or aesthetic legibility; and who sincerely wants to play a meaningful role in their community, despite repeated experiences of mismatch with established academic and occupational cultures.

Considering all of this, I’ve been unsatisfied with the ‘just say no’ or ‘avoid this substance because of the potential dangers involved’ frameworks of personal discipline, relative to what I see as cannabis use as substance-scaffolding.

I ask instead, “How is this scaffold serving their needs,” and “what is this person seeking to satisfy, according to the tendencies of their nervous system?”

Asking these questions, and exploring the range of possible resolutions, has caused me to rethink everything I know about individual competence, self-medication, and utility-within-community.

Here’s the story that unfolds in my brain, starting with trying to understand my child’s use of cannabis.

Understanding Cannabis as a Regulation Support

Question: A subset of neurodivergent people find cannabis to be highly regulating. Using current diagnostic frameworks, would we be able to reverse engineer this mechanism and suggest alternative supports for regulation?

Answer (from multiple channels): Diagnostic frameworks don’t code this directly—no DSM category for “cannabinoid-responsive regulation phenotype”—but the mechanistic literature gives us enough to reverse-engineer some plausible pathways, and each one maps to a non-cannabis lever.

The candidate mechanisms, each with its alt-support:

  • Excitation/inhibition imbalance (the leading cortical model in autism/ADHD research)—the nervous system runs with too much glutamatergic drive relative to GABAergic brake. CB1 agonism works presynaptically to turn down excess signal.
    Alt-support: deep pressure/proprioceptive input, rhythmic bilateral movement, anything that mechanically dampens throughput rather than trying to out-think it.
  • Low endocannabinoid tone—some autism research finds blunted anandamide signaling tied to social ease and anxiety regulation. If the system’s baseline ECS is running lean, exogenous cannabinoids are topping up a deficit rather than adding a foreign effect.
    Alt-support: sustained aerobic movement (the “runner’s high” is partly endocannabinoid-mediated), omega-3s as ECS precursors, consistent touch/massage.
  • Thalamic sensory gating failure—the filter that should mute irrelevant input doesn’t, so everything arrives undifferentiated and loud. Cannabinoids affect thalamic gating directly.
    Alt-support: environmental engineering, without pharmacological substitution: reduce raw input volume rather than trying to improve the filter (single-channel environments, structured monotropic focus, noise reduction).
  • Vagal/parasympathetic underactivation—anxiety compounding the sensory load, cannabis’s anxiolytic effect partly vagally mediated.
    Alt-support: direct vagal stimulation—humming, slow exhale-longer-than-inhale breathing, cold water on the face.
  • Dopaminergic under-stimulation (more ADHD-coded)—restlessness eased by mild dopaminergic modulation.
    Alt-support: novelty-structured tasks, high-engagement movement, body doubling.

Considering this data, relative to the questions that framed my inquiry, here’s how I connect the dots when I choose to view my child as perfectly-abled, rather than disabled, and here’s how I attempt to contextualize this for my community.

Greetings, esteemed community:

I compiled this explanation of how cannabis helps regulate the neurodivergent nervous system. This all maps very cleanly onto our child’s character, and shows why they miss soccer so much (missing as ‘longing for,’ and not ‘fails to show up for.’ I think you get my meaning, but it’s good be precise where language suggests multiple meanings).

This all points to running (‘rhythmic bilateral movement,’ ‘sustained aerobic movement’), with intense interest-based focus (‘structured monotropic focus,’ ‘high-engagement movement’) and cooperative participation (‘high-engagement movement,’ ‘body doubling’) as being the the regulation supports they are reaching for, or the activities that they are predisposed to seek in making their character meaningful in a human community engaged in dialogue with a natural environment.

Basically, our child shows the collection of ecological adaptations that would enable ice-age hunter-gatherers to hunt and bring down a wooly mammoth, as a source of food and raw materials for clothing, shelter, and tools. Mammoths were herd animals, much larger than humans, with thick skins and wooly coats that were very difficult to pierce with the projectiles of the time—wood or bone projectiles that were either sharpened or had separate affixed bone or stone tips specialized for cutting/piercing.

Bringing down a mammoth would require a high degree of coordination and sustained movement by a group of humans—to first isolate an animal from the herd; bombard it with a number of projectiles, none of which would be able to kill the animal on its own, but only weaken it when applied in numbers; and then chase the animal until it was weak enough to be able to approach directly, to apply severing cuts with stone knives at strategic points, to bring on death. Then, the animal had to be processed fairly quickly, before bacteria, insects, and scavengers moved in to take their share.

The Mental Health Day

This coordinated activity would involve great risk-taking, and sublimation of fear-response. In other words, badass individuals engaged in a life-or-death struggle to meet the needs of their community.

Engaging in this way would have resulted in a huge output of energy in a specific time period, that would likely extend beyond one cycle of dawn-to-dusk; which could not be segmented into work hours that resemble modern industrial time cycles of work and rest; by an individual who could literally measure their life by their proximity to such a resource as a mammoth herd. The individuals involved in this project would have needed extended periods of rest to recover from the endeavor, perhaps spanning multiple day-night cycles; and the community would have been happy to oblige, considering the benefit of their energy expenditure to the community.

Where Do We Go From Here?

in the context of domesticated society, none of our child’s particular traits make sense. but our period of domestication has been a tiny blip in the overall arc of the human project. human evolution, and adaptation to changing environments, is a very long and slow process, relative to our understanding of adapting to environmental changes within our lifetimes.

Considering those changes, i hope we can find ways to recognize our child’s unique gifts as adaptations that are valuable to the community; to recognize the range of skills required to make the human project work; and to rediscover how a person with these natural predispositions is a valuable contributor to their community — because of, and not in spite of, their characteristic rhythms and sensibilities.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk, and thank you for your cooperation in this project of nurturing a unique person to be their best self in the rapidly-shifting priorities of life in modern industrial society.

big loves,

parent of a mammoth hunter

my mother, the maker pt 2

In part one, I explored my mother’s life and work, relative to the social conditions she experienced as a low-income, self-directed woman navigating the public health and housing systems, and asked whether, viewing her life through the arc of 76 years of continuous productivity in the fiber arts, different decisions could have been made resulting in better accommodations and better integration into her community. I asked whether it was worthwhile to reassess our standards of fitness, disability, and disorder.

What are the conditions of disorder in an individual, and at what moment does disorder become a permanent designation, rather than a temporary condition?

Let’s use a slightly less emotionally fraught frame than a human life. Let’s observe some monkey behavior, not because of the monkey’s proximity to humans, as a primate, or because they have been fascinating to science for that reason, but because the monkey is my mother’s Chinese astrological sign, and she would like that association.

We are studying capuchin monkey behavior, for the purpose of developing a standard of fitness. We enter the habitat where they have evolved and adapted over countless millennia—let’s say a forested area in Honduras. We observe a troop and look for a specimen that appears healthy and generally representative of the species. We settle on an individual that does not appear to be a dominant male or a highly fertile female, but a female of no special rank relative to the troop, who is socially mobile, non-aggressive, non-avoidant. Our selection appears to represent a fairly neutral specimen from which we can extrapolate our findings onto the rest of the species. She appears fit, at the median presentation for the species—not the most successful, not the most disadvantaged. Just an average capuchin monkey. This is our focal individual, our point of departure for understanding monkeys.

We have chosen as our focal individual, our case study, an individual who exists within a social order that has many categories, and who exhibits a variety of behaviors and characteristics, monkeys being a highly social species. She is healthy—fit, we might say—within her environment and her social order. Looked at with more context, we can see that we are selecting an individual who has some characteristics that can be said to be representative of the species—bilateral symmetry, similar arrangements of limbs, tail, organs, fur. But this individual will differ from other individuals according to their social role—sex characteristics, size and weight relative to a dominant male or fertile female, specific social behaviors relative to their place in the troop, and so on. Because we haven’t studied the whole troop over generations, we don’t really know how this individual ranks, in percentile terms, for any given characteristic. But for our purposes, we call her good enough to represent the species for our study.

We capture the individual and bring her into our laboratory.

Stop. Reflect. Project. Pause.

This is the most important moment of the whole examination. Everything that follows is exposition.

In bringing an example of a fit individual into the laboratory, we are now examining a disordered individual. Disorder is a function of environment, not identity.

The condition of her disorder is the environment of the laboratory—an environment to which she is not adapted. The fit individual is fit within a set of conditions—in this case, forest canopy; a containing species with a social order that sorts its members into roles; a milieu of related species; and environmental resources and conditions. In changing the monkey’s environmental and social conditions, we introduce her into a natural and social environment that diverges from the one for which she is adapted.

In changing this individual’s relational status from emplaced to portable—meaning that her original environment was unique, and that uniqueness is due to a relationship with land—the environmental conditions are emplaced—while our laboratory conditions have been carefully designed to be invisible and replicable—and therefore portable—we change the way any data we collect can be interpreted.

We can no longer make predictions about her behavior relative to her embedded environment. We are now examining monkey disability. Monkey environmental disorder. Monkey social disorder. Monkey with special needs.

Disability is defined by an environment, not an individual. Saying otherwise makes the conditions that shaped that environment invisible, and therefore assumed as immutable. Shout it loud. Steal the idea and run with it.

From now forward, every. single. metric. is measuring a disordered individual, relative to the social and environmental conditions she has evolved over millennia to be fit within. From now forward, the only standard of fitness is her ability to thrive in a hostile environment.

In defining her characteristics as representative of her species, using the snapshot of any data we collect the moment we arrive in the laboratory, there are a lot of things that we don’t know:

  • we don’t know if she was ascendant or descendant relative to the median for an individual of her social class;
  • we don’t know what she would have become, given another five years in the troop she was taken from;
  • we don’t know what knowledge she carried that only existed in her—which relationships, which routes through the canopy, which individuals trusted her and why;
  • we don’t know what role she was growing into, and little about the role she occupied on the day we captured her;
  • we don’t know who she would have mentored, or been mentored by, had we not removed her from her environment;
  • we don’t know what her position cost her to hold, or what it would have paid her, over a longer arc;
  • we don’t know what conditions produced her “neutrality” – whether it was constitutional, or whether it was what her troop’s social order permitted her to be;
  • we don’t know what she would look like measured against a troop with more resources, less predation pressure, a different history;
  • we don’t know what our presence, before capture, had already changed;
  • we don’t know what her stress response tells us about her species, and what it only tells us about this laboratory or this individual;
  • we don’t know what parts of her behavior we are about to record can be considered a baseline, and which are trauma responses to a hostile environment.

We don’t know that our definition of fitness is sound, relative to her environment, since fitness was never a property she carried alone—it was always a relationship between her, her community, and a forest we have just removed her from.

Sit with that.

rigor: mortis

Science demands rigor. Yet ‘rigor,’ as a term of art, defines stiffness, rigidity, resistance to change. And it’s this scientific rigor that my thesis is presented to indict. We have, as scientists, observers of phenomena, been entraining to limited premises, to confined metrics that don’t scale, to questions defined by a culture that has changed faster than our environment has changed us. The method is sound: question, test, record, reflect, question, repeat. But in our pursuit of specificity of quantifiable data, we’ve lost the frame. We rarely ask the systems level questions, because they often involve cooperation to answer, and cooperation is hard.

Einstein’s theory of relativity established this formally: there is no privileged, view-from-nowhere position from which to measure anything. Every observation is frame-dependent—inseparable from the position, motion, and condition of the observer making it. There is no neutral laboratory. There is no absolute vantage from which the monkey can be measured without the measurement itself already being shaped by the frame we’ve placed her in.

We need to start observing ourselves, and the conditions we assume before observing our subject.

a study of a study

Let’s move forward. Considering that our study is now the study of a disordered individual, let’s make the best of it, and reflect on our data.

We recognize that we want this to be a longitudinal study. We are rigorous—we want to play the long game. So we bring in another individual—a male—to make a breeding pair. We can now study our subject over generations.

We observe as many aspects of biology and behavior as we can think of, in our laboratory:

  • growth rate, weight gain, caloric intake relative to species norms established elsewhere;
  • reproductive cycle, gestation length, litter size, interval between pregnancies;
  • maternal behavior—grooming frequency, nursing duration, proximity-seeking in offspring;
  • social hierarchy between our two adults, now that a hierarchy of two is all that’s available to form;
  • vocalization patterns, and how they change in an enclosure with no canopy to carry them;
  • activity level across a 24-hour cycle, measured against a light schedule we control;
  • stress hormone levels, sampled at intervals convenient to our staffing;
  • response to novel objects, introduced on our schedule, to test cognition and adaptability;
  • aggression and appeasement behaviors, now performed for an audience of one instead of a troop;
  • longevity, and cause of death, when it comes, recorded as data rather than as loss;

And, across generations, we record whether any of these measurements drift.

And recognize that all of these findings represent behaviors and adaptations within a hostile environment that our subjects were not adapted to inhabit. We are recording disorder as baseline data for the species being observed.

Sit with that. Metabolize the conflicts presented here. Chew on the difficult truths.

Pause. Reflect. If you understand, grieve.

Then let’s move on.

We publish our findings. We present our data as representative of the normal range for the species. We get funding and extend our study to 20 generations of monkeys. This appears to be a longitudinal study.

But it’s a longitudinal study of disordered individuals, now sorted according to their fitness within a hostile environment they were not adapted to. Our study has shifted from “observing monkey fitness” to “monkey fitness relative to a specific, hostile environment.” Or better yet, “how do monkeys sort when we force them through this tube?”

Our 20-generation study is now sorting for survivability of hostile conditions, rather than fitness within the environment for which they are adapted.

Make note of that, and flag this for further study.

Hey, but we’ve got a lot of data. Our boss is impressed.

20 generations on, we’ve got a lot to work with in understanding monkey fitness and behavior. We’re able to establish norms, and medians, and divergences, and anomalies. We have a serious body of work, that’s the result of deep investments of time, attention, and capital.

This is the moment of truth, regarding the economy of scale, and its effect on the future success of our control group: the lab-raised monkeys relative to the land-embedded monkeys.

We come to this moment, recognizing that we have two populations to consider. We can name the conditions of their isolation. We can also consider the conditions of their reintegration. Let’s explore this.

Given that the monkeys evolved within a unique environment that they were then separated from;

and given that a subset of those monkeys were allowed to thrive within a different environment;

what is the degree of shift, relative to the original environment?

What did the laboratory monkeys miss out on, in their adaptation to the laboratory environment, and how might those variables provide challenges for reintegrating into their ancestral environment?

Our new control group of lab-embedded monkeys missed out on a lot of sensory and cognitive experiences that inform their new fitness criteria:

  • the full sensory and spatial complexity of forest canopy—three-dimensional movement, depth judgment across branches, distance calibrated to a body moving through open space rather than a cage;
  • exposure to the full range of native food sources, and the searching, testing, and problem-solving that foraging for them requires;
  • a troop large enough to generate the full range of social roles—elders, rivals, allies, mentors, mentees—rather than the truncated hierarchy of a mated pair;
  • exposure to predation risk, and the vigilance, alarm-calling, and group-coordination behaviors that risk selects for;
  • seasonal variation—rainfall, food scarcity and abundance, temperature shifts—and the adaptive behaviors those cycles require;
  • inter-species contact—the milieu of other animals sharing the forest, and the behaviors calibrated to that wider ecology;
  • the chance to leave a troop, or be displaced from one, and everything that migration and renegotiation of status would have taught;
  • unstructured time with no observer present—behavior that isn’t shaped, even unconsciously, by being watched;
  • the possibility of failure with real consequence—a wrong choice that costs a life, rather than one recorded as data and intervened upon;
  • continuity of relationship with individuals who remembered them across years, not just across a study’s observation window.

Along with this, our new control group is sorting along new criteria for fitness, that didn’t apply to our original population:

  • tolerance for confinement—stillness, restricted range of movement, proximity to walls and boundaries with no option to leave;
  • tolerance for chronic proximity to a small, fixed set of individuals with no ability to disperse, avoid, or seek distance;
  • tolerance for human observation—habituation to being watched, handled, and measured as a condition of daily life;
  • tolerance for a fixed, human-controlled feeding schedule, rather than self-directed foraging;
  • tolerance for a fixed light/dark cycle imposed by researchers, rather than natural seasonal variation;
  • reduced vigilance behavior, in the absence of any predation pressure to maintain it;
  • reduced range of alarm and coordination calls, in an environment with nothing left to coordinate against;
  • compliance with novel-object and cognitive-testing protocols introduced on a schedule convenient to staff, not to the control group;
  • recovery speed from repeated, unavoidable stress exposure—since the same procedures recur across a generation’s whole life, and across every generation after it;
  • whatever traits made an individual “easy to study”—docility, low reactivity, predictability—now quietly functioning as fitness criteria in their own right, selected for without ever being named as such.

Let’s pause again. That’s a lot to take in.

Two populations of monkeys. They’re all the same species, but observed in contrast, they are functionally different in important ways.

Having observed a group of monkeys in the laboratory with deep granularity, we have learned a lot about monkey behavior, variation, and fitness.

Having said that, let’s consider a different project. Let’s say we want to abandon our study, and allow our laboratory subjects to reintegrate into their ancestral environment. Will this be a clean and easy transition? Considering the metrics for fitness our data supports, and considering that we are choosing candidates for reintroduction based on our laboratory model of fitness, let’s see what the net gain/loss looks like.

Compared to our lab-based control group, here’s who would be sorted out of the original community:

Individuals that exhibit:

  • heightened vigilance and frequent alarm-calling would read as hypervigilance or excessive anxiety, since the new baseline has no predation pressure to calibrate against;
  • complex three-dimensional spatial navigation and constant movement across variable terrain would read as hyperactivity or an inability to remain still;
  • a wide vocal repertoire, calibrated to coordinate a large troop across dense canopy, would read as excessive or disordered vocalization relative to a population that only ever had to communicate across a cage;
  • strong reactivity to novel stimuli, appropriate to an environment where the unfamiliar is often dangerous, would read as poor stress regulation or low stimulus tolerance;
  • selective, discriminating avoidance of certain individuals or situations would read as social dysfunction, since the lab baseline was shaped by populations with no ability to avoid anyone;
  • assertive competition for troop rank and resources would read as aggression, absent the larger social structure that gives competition its context and its limits;
  • deep, long-term bonds formed and re-formed across a large, shifting troop would read as inconsistent or unstable attachment, next to a baseline of fixed, forced proximity to the same few individuals for life;
  • foraging behavior—wide-ranging, exploratory, tolerant of extended uncertainty about where the next meal is—would read as restlessness or food-seeking dysregulation, next to a population fed on a fixed schedule;
  • resistance to human handling and observation would read as poor compliance or temperament problems, rather than as an intact, appropriate wariness of an unfamiliar species;
  • variability itself—the sheer range of individual difference the original troop could sustain—would read as noise, or as a lack of the consistency the new baseline has come to expect, simply because the new population was never permitted to generate that range in the first place.

Every trait that would now be called divergent is a trait that was, in the original environment, either neutral or actively adaptive. Nothing in this list describes a defect. It describes a population still calibrated to an environment they have been separated from, and that moment of separation has ceased to be factored in to any assessment metric. This is the legacy of our original group of scientists failing to pass on their knowledge to a new generation. This is not an indictment, just an acknowledgment that there is cultural information that was simply forgotten.

None of this should be controversial, from my perspective. Nothing I’m presenting is new. It’s just considering a broader and more reasonable set of variables for organizing data. Why this doesn’t reflect current diagnostic paradigms is difficult to not interpret as nefarious intent, but I know better than to assume that.

monkey see, monkey do

From here, i’d like to actually step into the frame, or rather ask that together, we merge with it. We are the monkeys, the monkeys we were observing are now us. and we are observing the traits we have described as divergent, with the understanding that we are a colony of highly social primates, observing behavior, scanning for range, and sorting for adaptation to a highly restricted environment. How did we get here? What assumptions do we bring with us to our observations? Are our calculations neutral, or are they calibrated to ensure that the environment, the conditions of the laboratory, are maintained?

And by environment, i don’t just mean the physical environment, i mean the web of social relationships that exist inside of cultural expectations. We are a population that has been living in a constrained environment for generations, and our scientists have forgotten to relate their current data back to this population’s original emplaced environment.

We’ll explore this in part 3.

Pause. Reflect. Grieve. Celebrate. Repair. Rinse. Repeat.