Starring Autism... in Disguise.

Starring Autism... in Disguise

Over the last decade, the television show, Monk, captivated the attention of mass audiences who flocked to their TV set each week to watch Adrian Monk, a former-detective-turned consultant, solve crimes that defy the San Francisco Police Department. Armed with an acute attention to detail that escapes the naked eye, a vast reservoir of knowledge from diverse disciplines and a powerful logical mind, Monk is able to pick out clues at crime scenes and piece together what really happened.

Yet at the same time, Mr. Monk is handicapped by a vast catalogue of phobias (more than 300), his debilitating adherence to routines, and crippling pursuit of perfection and symmetry in a world of imperfections, which require him to hire a personal assistant to help him in his daily life. As though this were not enough, Monk is further traumatised by the murder of his wife, which had plunged him into a catatonic state that lasted for three years and ended his career as a detective.

On the surface, Mr. Monk seems to be suffering from a disorder that has no name. All through the show's eight seasons, when anyone asks about Mr. Monk's condition, the response is reduced to any one of his 300 phobias and his history of catatonia. Yet, for me, Monk's frustrating rigidities and idiosyncrasies enable me to see many of my autistic son's aberrant behaviours in a refreshing new light. They further confirm my belief that Mr. Monk is a gifted, high-functioning autistic individual. Yet, the term "autism" never comes up.

More recently, The Big Bang Theory, another TV series, has introduced the character of Sheldon Parris, a theoretical physicist who has a high IQ of 187 and attended college at 11. Within the entire cast of the geek and non-geek characters portrayed, Sheldon is easily the most captivating and striking of the lot.

Without skipping a beat, he seems compulsively driven to expose the fallacies and deficiencies of his friends' statements, while flaunting his intellectual superiority without recognising his arrogance. At the same time, he is limited by his rigid adherence to daily routines (eg. his bowel movement is at 8:20 a.m. everyday) and uncompromising standards about how he wants things to be (eg. he is the only one who can sit on the left side of the couch). He also struggles to make sense of social conventions and nuances in conversations. His hilarious inability to interpret idiomatic expressions (eg. "When one door closes, another opens", which he considers to be an impossible phenomenon) and many social faux pas (eg. calling his Head of Department an idiot) also reveal a vulnerable and fragile side that is endearing.

To me, Sheldon offers the classic portrait of a gifted individual with high-functioning autism. Yet, once again, the term "autism" is never mentioned. He is simply labelled "weird", "strange", "idiosyncratic" and even "robotic".

Yet, although both of these characters – Mr. Monk and Sheldon – exhibit maddening attributes, they also possess admirable traits such as their superior intellect, honesty and integrity. For instance, Sheldon's refusal to play the social game by flattering the unaccomplished new Head of Department, along with his discomfort with lying and keeping secrets, actually casts an unflattering light on typical social behaviour. His staunch stance on such matters, though unwise and excessive at times, smacks of a refreshing daring and assertiveness that is almost enviable. One cannot help, but admire him for his defiance of the oppressiveness of social decorum.

Even more impressively, Mr. Monk stands up to murderers, telling them without batting an eyelid, "You murdered your… I know you did it," and then proceeds with dogged persistence to solve the crime. At times, Monk is alone in his pursuit of the truth; yet he is undeterred, spurred only by the rightness of the course of his action. Even though he may not be right 100% of the time, and things may not always go his way, he wins our respect. The world is a better place because he is there, sticking his neck out for the rest of us, when no one else would have bothered.

As a mother of an autistic child, I can tell you why I am hooked on these two TV shows. But I am clearly not the only fan. Though I cannot imagine that the fans of these series are drawn to them for the same reason as I, it is amazing to me that so many viewers love these characters whom I consider to be well-fleshed-out representations of high-functioning autism. It is a real shame that their autistic nature is not plainly stated. If TV viewers know that these characters are strong representations of autistic people, these TV shows can serve as effective powerful vehicles for changing the public's perceptions of people with autism.

Think about it, each week, TV viewers are voluntarily "stepping" into the world of autistic individuals and "connecting" with them, where in reality, they would steer clear of them. Essentially, these TV shows offer both an entertaining and a "safe" medium for viewers to go beneath the surface, learn their stories and see the world from their eyes. By getting to "know" them, TV viewers no longer dismiss them and their atypical behaviours as being bizarre, strange or frightening. As we laugh and squirm at their compulsive pursuit of their obsessions, we also cheer for them in their valiant efforts to carve their niche in society. We come to appreciate that many of these characters' gifts are also inextricably interwoven with their deficits.

Just as significantly, these TV shows showcase a wonderful cast of supportive characters in the lives of Mr. Monk and Sheldon. These characters who accept and love Adrian Monk and Sheldon unconditionally serve as ideal role models to show us how we should interact with autistic people. Gifted as Mr. Monk and Sheldon are, they both would not have been able to live their lives and utilise their extraordinary gifts without the encouragement and assistance of their friends and colleagues. These dedicated friends and colleagues toe the delicate line of alternating between accepting their special friend's rigidities and challenging him to move out of his comfort zone.

Every caregiver of an autistic child fantasies that someone other than them would come to understand, love and cherish their child as much as they do. Such people and their love are hard to come by. Notwithstanding their deficits and struggles, autistic people would have far better lives if they were treated with openness and compassion by mainstream society.

Mary and Max, a movie that features an adult character with Asperger Syndrome (a high-functioning form of autism) drove home this point for me. The saddest thing about Max's life is not that he is a strange being who is out of synch with life; nor is it because he does not get the help and support he needs to become more normal. But that he is so misunderstood, feared and shunned by people who do not bother to get to know him. Perhaps, if they had had the chance to know him as the TV viewers had gotten to known Mr. Monk and Sheldon, they would have known about his innocent curiosity about life, his funny experimentations with food and recipes, and his dire efforts to reach out to others.

So let's bring on these autistic characters, slip off their shrouds and shine the spotlight on the unique value they bring to our lives. And may the good feeling we feel towards them spill forth from the reel to the real world.