
Autism’s Three-Body Problem: Why Levels Fail Us
There’s a concept in physics known as the “three-body problem.” While the movement of two celestial bodies under gravity can be predicted relatively easily, a third is introduced, and the system’s behaviour becomes chaotic—impossible to determine with simple rules. Recent popularisations of this idea underscore a universal truth: some systems are simply too dynamic and interconnected for neat, reductionist solutions.
When it comes to Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and its diagnostic “severity levels,” we face a strikingly similar human dilemma. The DSM-5’s introduction of Levels 1, 2, and 3 was intended to bring order and standardised language to the diverse ways autism presents, theoretically aiding treatment planning and resource allocation. In theory, this sounds pragmatic. In practice, it falls short.
The Paradox: Achievement vs. Internal Reality
As an autistic educator and researcher, I have lived the consequences of this system. My recent reclassification to Level 2 ASD—“requiring substantial support”—brought a strange mix of validation and frustration. This is a vindication because my experiences were previously dismissed by a psychiatrist who saw only my academic achievements. The frustration, however, is palpable because this label reinforced my conviction that autism’s diagnostic levels are profoundly misguided, reflecting society’s need for tidy categories rather than our complex realities.
The notion that academic or professional success negates significant autistic traits is deeply flawed. Navigating academic structures does not erase daily challenges: sensory overwhelm, executive dysfunction, and the relentless, exhausting labour of masking. These are high-cost performances, invisible to those who rely on superficial assessments. Support needs are fluid and context-dependent, not static or easily captured by a single label.
Our Own ‘Three-Body Problem’: Levels vs. Lived Experience
Much like the celestial three-body problem, attempting to categorise the infinite variability of autistic experience into three tiers quickly descends into its own form of chaos, often with detrimental human consequences. Consider the “three bodies” at play:
The interplay between these “bodies” means that support needs are rarely static or straightforward enough to be captured by a single, lifelong level. The system strives for predictability but, in reality, is far more complex and less predictable than such classifications allow, leaving many needs unmet and individuals unsupported.
As I wrote in “A Pox on Resilience”:
“Lazy welfare cheat or inspiration porn,
No middle ground for the differently born.”
These levels create false binaries, ignoring the constant evolution of support needs. Research confirms that static categories limit opportunities by pigeonholing individuals into narrow definitions of their abilities and challenges. They also fail to reflect the lived experience of autistic people, who often find their support needs changing over time and in different situations.
Beyond Simplistic Labels: Urgent Need for Systemic Change
For instance, a person with autism may require more support during a job interview than during a routine day at home. However, the current system does not account for such variations, leading to inadequate support in certain situations. While diagnosis can validate, the real harm arises from how levels are used in practice. Critics, including autistic advocates and researchers, rightly argue that these levels are poorly defined and fail to capture the dynamic, fluctuating nature of support needs across different contexts and life stages. As one advocate put it, “mild autism doesn’t mean one experiences autism mildly... It means YOU experience their autism mildly.” This insight highlights how these labels often reflect external perceptions rather than internal realities.
We urgently need systems that recognise:
Finding Our Voice, Demanding Better
Through poetry and teaching, I attempt to express what clinical language overlooks. When I write, “Barriers bloom like noxious weeds, / Choking paths, stifling needs,” I articulate the daily reality of navigating obstructive systems—a truth my neurodivergent students deeply understand.
More Than a Level: A Call to Action
I may be “Level 2 autistic,” but I am also an educator, poet, mentor, and advocate. These roles are not contradictions. Our value lies not in labels but our unique insights and collective strength.
The system that imposes these levels is in urgent need of transformation. Who better to lead that change than those who know its failings first-hand? Let’s dismantle these oversimplifications and build something truly supportive—together.