This article is part 3 of a 5-part series on modern perspectives on ADHD. Part 2, “What is ADHD, Really?” is available here.
An increased need for stimulation among ADHDers has led to a medical view that ADHD is a disorder. This medical view is that ADHD involves a deficit in attention, distractibility, daydreaming, procrastination, forgetfulness, disorganisation, restlessness, boredom, impulsivity, and emotional dysregulation. However, the problem with this view is that neurotypicals can also experience these symptoms when they’re under-stimulated, just like ADHDers.
To illustrate this, consider asking a neurotypical adult to sit alone and watch a television show made for young children, or to sit at a work desk doing nothing for a day. It would likely result in mind wandering, daydreaming, eyes scanning the room, fidgeting, frustration, boredom, and a desire to get up or find another interesting activity. We would not describe this individual as having an inattention, hyperactivity, mood regulation, or impulsivity disorder.
Likewise, I argue that it would be a strange perspective to describe an ADHDer as having a disorder if sitting to watch a typical adult television show or engaging in a typical desk job for a day induces the same symptoms. The ADHDer simply has a greater need for stimulation in their activities. From this perspective, then, ADHD is not inattention, hyperactivity, impulsivity, and mood instability; rather, these are distress symptoms that arise in everyone due to stimulatory misalignment with the environment.
ADHD Language
You might notice my noun choice: “ADHDer.” I argue that saying someone is an ADHDer is more neuro-affirming than saying someone has ADHD, implying they were born with a disorder. After all, it would be unlikely for my Sicilian heritage to lead others to say, “He has Italian” when trying to account for my relatively dark and dense facial hair. Rather, they may say “He is an Italian,” or more accurately, “Genetically he is an Italian, but he identifies as an Australian.”
These distinctions are important, as linguistic determinism suggests that these kinds of small language changes from early in life can alter the course of potentially self-limiting beliefs.
As well as avoiding the word has, I argue that we should distinguish between the ADHD neurotype (biology) and whether someone has resulting social and occupational difficulties (psychology). While society has made strides in distinguishing biology and psychology—for example, by differentiating sex (male/female) from gender (man/woman)—these efforts are in their infancy for ADHD.
While saying someone has an attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder might be suitable for ADHDers struggling with school/work, it may be inappropriate for a young child who’s just different. Instead, we might choose to say these children have an ADHD neurotype or simply that they have a very active temperament (active in both body and mind).
ADHD Strengths and Weaknesses
Both ADHDers and neurotypicals have accompanying strengths and weaknesses due to their differing requirements for novelty and stimulation. ADHDers may show relative strengths (and neurotypicals corresponding relative weaknesses) in areas such as enhanced imagination, curiosity, multitasking, hyperfocus on stimulating tasks, liveliness, adventurousness, risk-taking, gregariousness, and stronger emotional connection.
Conversely, neurotypicals tend to have relative strengths (and ADHDers relative weaknesses) in areas such as sustaining attention on most tasks, shifting attention between tasks, holding, and recalling information over short time intervals, awareness of time, sitting still, controlling impulses, emotional regulation, and handling rejection.
ADHD and Evolution
Taking an evolutionary perspective can help us further understand why an ADHD neurotype isn’t necessarily a biological malfunction.
The relatively high prevalence rates of ADHD (a stable 5 percent over decades)1 suggest that natural selection preserved these traits because they confer advantages to our species. Traits associated with ADHD—such as impulsivity, risk-taking, and a need for novelty—likely were highly valuable for early human survival, especially in roles such as hunter, scout, warrior, or innovator.
However, as farming practices led society to grow, cultures emerged that encouraged sameness and conformity to manage increased social complexity. Consequently, neurodiversity has become less culturally venerated, despite suggestions that historical revolutionaries—including Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Edison, Albert Einstein, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and Pablo Picasso—may have had ADHD.
In today’s society, neurodiversity is vital to ensure we have a range of temperaments to suit a range of jobs and social roles. We don’t need 8 billion people doing quiet desk work; so, we shouldn’t expect all children to gel with this model of learning or all adults to gel with this model for productivity.
Being Different and Fitting In
All ADHDers need supportive environments that account for their need for novelty, movement, and stimulation. They also require environments that allow them to function without shame or invalidation for not meeting cultural expectations designed around neurotypical individuals.
The alternative to this is masking, which involves the ADHDer pretending to be someone they’re not. When masking is widespread, our society is deprived of the wonderful contribution ADHDers provide.
In my next post, I’ll explore the potential biological basis for ADHD, which might shed light on the unique origin in the brains where ADHD may come from.
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