For more than a generation, our entire approach to autism and social communication has been built on a devastatingly simple and profoundly wrong idea. We can call it the “Single Empathy Problem.”
This is the core assumption of the pathology paradigm. It is a quiet, foundational lie that states:
There is one “correct” way to be social.
The dominant neurotype possesses this correct way of being.
Autistic and other neurodivergent people have a “deficit” in this area.
Therefore, all social misunderstandings are the autistic person’s fault, and the solution is to train them to perform the “correct” social skills.
This is the lie that has fueled the multi-billion dollar ABA industry. It is the lie that has been the source of immeasurable shame and trauma for millions. It is an intellectually lazy, scientifically bankrupt, and ethically abhorrent framework. And we are here to burn it to the ground with the truth.
When people with two vastly different neurobiological operating systems try to communicate, there is a mutual and bidirectional breakdown in empathy and understanding. The problem isn’t the software or the hardware; it’s the lack of a translator.
In 2012, the brilliant autistic academic Dr. Damian Milton gave us the key to unlock a new paradigm. He gave us the Double Empathy Problem. The theory is both revolutionary and stunningly simple: When people with two vastly different neurobiological operating systems and life experiences try to communicate, there is a mutual and bidirectional breakdown in empathy and understanding.
It’s a problem at the interface between the two systems, not a deficit within one system.
Think of it this way. You have a brilliant piece of software written for a Mac. You try to run it on a Windows PC. It fails. Is the software “broken”? Or is the PC “defective”? Neither. They are two distinct, equally valid operating systems that are not inherently compatible. For decades, we have been blaming the Mac software for not being able to run on a world built entirely for Windows. The Double Empathy Problem correctly identifies that the friction is a two-way street.
This isn’t just a social theory; it is grounded in the fundamental mechanics of how the brain understands emotion. Your brain is not a camera that passively records social data. It is an interpretation engine. When you see a facial expression, your brain instantly compares that raw visual data to a massive internal library of conceptual knowledge about what emotions are supposed to look like, built from a lifetime of your own unique experiences.
Here is the neurological core of the problem: A neurodivergent brain and a non-neurodivergent brain build fundamentally different conceptual libraries.
A non-neurodivergent brain might learn that a “friendly” face involves direct eye contact and a wide, toothy smile. An autistic brain might learn that direct eye contact is physically painful and that a genuine smile is a small, subtle affair. When the autistic person offers their authentic, subtle smile, the non-neurodivergent brain runs it against its library and finds no match for “friendly.” It returns an error: “uninterested,” “unfriendly,” “weird.” The non-neurodivergent person then reacts to that interpretation, not to the authentic emotion that was actually offered.
The breakdown is not a failure of empathy. It is a failure of translation between two different, valid, internal dictionaries.
This is not speculation. Researchers like Dr. Catherine Crompton have proven this in the lab. In a series of landmark studies, they had groups of people—non-neurodivergent to non-neurodivergent, autistic to autistic, and mixed—transmit information to each other.
The results were staggering and undeniable. The mixed neurotype groups struggled significantly with miscommunication and a lack of rapport. But the autistic-only groups transmitted information and built rapport just as easily, if not more easily, than the non-neurodivergent-only groups.
This is the empirical proof. The problem isn’t being autistic. The problem is the mismatch at the interface between autistic and non-autistic communication styles.
Part of: The Science Hub | Explore the Full Enlitens Interview Model
No. We are saying that the very definition of “good social skills” is a biased, culturally-specific construct. Performing those skills—like forced eye contact and predictable small talk—is not a measure of one’s ability to connect. It is a measure of one’s ability to perform a social script, often at a tremendous cognitive cost (see our Guide to Masking). We believe in building the skills of effective communication, which include authentic self-expression, advocating for your needs, and learning to be a “translator” between different communication styles, not just performing a part in a play you were never given the script for.
It reframes the entire problem. The old model says they have a “deficit” in reading cues. The Double Empathy model says it’s not a reading deficit; it’s a translation error. They are perfectly capable of reading the data, but their brain’s conceptual library assigns a different meaning to it. A non-neurodivergent person might interpret a lack of eye contact as disinterest, while an autistic person is using it to conserve cognitive energy to focus more intently on the words being said. The problem isn’t a failure to see the cue; it’s a mismatch in the meaning assigned to it by two different cultures.
One word: Power. Society—its schools, its workplaces, its social gatherings—was built by and for the neuro-majority. Therefore, their communication style is treated as the unspoken, invisible “default” or “correct” way to be. The burden of adaptation is almost always placed on the person from the minority group. Acknowledging this power imbalance is a non-negotiable part of affirming care. Our job is to stop forcing our clients to carry 100% of that burden and to start validating the legitimacy of their own native communication style.
Understanding the Double Empathy Problem is not an academic exercise. It is the key to dismantling a lifetime of shame. It is the evidence that allows you to stop blaming your operating system and start demanding a better translator.
Take one second. That’s all I’m asking.
Do not try to “calm down.” Do not try to “fix it.” Do not listen to the voice screaming that you need to do something right now.
Just be here, with me, for one single breath.
My name is Liz. I’ve spent years working overnight in the ER, sitting with people on what was often the worst night of their entire lives. I have sat in the eye of the hurricane, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that the chaos you feel right now is not the truth.
It is a storm in your nervous system. And a storm is just a weather pattern. It is not you. It is not permanent. And you do not have to navigate it alone.
Right now, your brain’s alarm system is screaming. The logical part of your brain has been taken offline. That is a normal, brilliant, biological survival response. But you and I are going to bring it back online, together.
We are going to do one, simple, physical thing. This is not a bulls*hit mindfulness exercise. This is a direct, manual override for your nervous system.
Place your hand on your chest.
Can you feel that? The rise and fall. The rhythm. That is the anchor. That is the proof that you are here, in this moment, and you are alive.
Keep your hand there.
Now, we are going to make one choice. The storm is telling you there are a million overwhelming things you have to do. That is a lie. There are only three choices right now, and you only need to pick one.
This is the button you push when you need the paramedics or the police to show up. This is the “bring the fire truck” button.
This is the national, 24/7 lifeline. It is free, it is confidential, and it is staffed by trained counselors who are ready to listen without judgment. This is the “I need a lifeline” button.
Behavioral Health Response (BHR) is our community’s lifeline. They provide free, confidential telephone counseling and can connect you with local resources. This is the “I need a local guide” button.