A Brief History of Autism: From Misunderstanding to Spectrum
Neurodiversity as culture, not diagnosis
Autism has always existed, but the way society has understood it has changed dramatically in just the past century. The story is less about discovery than it is about recognition, and about how long it takes institutions to catch up with human reality.
The word “autism” first appeared in 1911, when Swiss psychiatrist Eugen Bleuler used it to describe extreme social withdrawal in people with schizophrenia. At that time autism was not seen as its own condition but only as a symptom of something else.
That shifted in the 1940s. In 1943, American psychiatrist Leo Kanner published a paper describing children who had difficulty with communication, social interaction, and rigid routines. He called it “early infantile autism.” Almost simultaneously, in 1944, Austrian doctor Hans Asperger documented children with similar challenges but often intact language skills and deep, focused interests. His work would eventually inspire the term “Asperger’s syndrome.” Two researchers, working continents apart during World War II, described what we now understand as part of a spectrum.
But for decades, the science was warped by stigma. In the 1950s and 1960s autism was blamed on parents, specifically “refrigerator mothers,” the cruel idea that cold, unaffectionate parenting caused a child’s struggles. This theory, promoted by figures like Bruno Bettelheim, caused untold harm, deepened shame for families, and overlooked the real biology at play. Autistic voices were ignored.
By the 1970s research finally began breaking this myth. Studies showed autism had a strong genetic basis and neurological roots. It was not parenting. It was not cold mothers. It was the way brains are wired. Still, stereotypes lingered.
In 1980 autism was formally recognized in the DSM-III, America’s psychiatric manual. Over time the definitions shifted. The DSM-IV (1994) divided conditions into separate categories: “classic” autism, Asperger’s syndrome, and pervasive developmental disorder. But in 2013 the DSM-5 collapsed them into a single diagnosis: Autism Spectrum Disorder. The change reflected a growing realization that autism is not one fixed profile but a wide continuum of strengths and challenges.
Meanwhile, autistic self-advocates began reshaping the narrative. In the late 20th and early 21st centuries, movements like the neurodiversity paradigm rejected the idea of “curing” autism and pushed for acceptance and rights. The conversation moved from pathology to identity: autism is not just something a person has, it is part of who they are.
Autism in Popular Culture
While science and advocacy shifted slowly, pop culture gave the public its first, often distorted glimpses. In 1988, Rain Man became the dominant cultural reference point. Dustin Hoffman’s portrayal of an autistic savant shaped public perception for decades, cementing the false belief that all autistic people are either mathematical geniuses or emotionally detached. The film raised awareness, but it narrowed understanding.
Other cultural figures helped broaden the frame. Temple Grandin, an autistic professor and livestock specialist, became a prominent voice in the 1990s and 2000s, speaking openly about sensory experiences and problem-solving approaches that differed from the norm. Her story challenged stereotypes and reframed autism as difference rather than deficit.
In recent years, figures like activist Greta Thunberg and media portrayals in shows like Atypical or The Good Doctor have added new layers. These portrayals are imperfect, often criticized for stereotypes or lack of autistic actors, but they hint at a shift: from autism as hidden or shameful to autism as visible, vocal, and complex. Pop culture has not always gotten it right, but it has forced the conversation into the mainstream.
The Spectrum Today
Prevalence numbers have shifted too. Once considered rare, autism is now identified in about 1 in 36 U.S. children. But the rise reflects changes in awareness and diagnostic practices, not an epidemic. What has grown is recognition, not the condition itself.
Today the story of autism is still being written. Families fight for services. Autistic adults demand representation in research and policy. The stigma has not vanished, but the frame has shifted from deficit and disorder to spectrum and identity.
Autism’s history shows how long misunderstanding can last when voices are silenced. It shows how cruelty hides in pseudoscience, and how clarity arrives only when those living the truth are heard. The spectrum has always been there. For centuries it was ignored, punished, or misnamed.
Pop culture has dropped breadcrumbs: Rain Man’s savant, Temple Grandin’s voice, Greta Thunberg’s activism. Each hinted at the reality that autism is not one story but many. Each showed how perception shapes empathy and how easy it is to mistake a fragment for the whole.
Now the question is whether we will keep treating autism as a problem to be managed or as a reality to be embraced. The past should not be a prison. Learning this history should be freeing. To see autism clearly is to see the many ways humanity exists, not broken but whole in more than one form.