Both the Young and the Old Have Been Disorientated by Covid Restrictions

We’re publishing an original essay today by regular Daily Sceptic contributor Dr. Sinéad Murphy, an Associate Researcher in Philosophy at Newcastle University, arguing that Covid restrictions have left both the young and the old feeling profoundly disorientated. Here is an extract:

Of all descriptions of the condition of autism, a want of orientation may be the most accurate. Children with autism cannot find their place in the world by the usual landmarks. Words and objects that would normally be salient and around which meaningful experience would cluster do not stand out for them even in familiar interactions and environments; there really could be an elephant in the room.

The world, it seems, is not for children with autism; they cannot make themselves at home in it.

This lack of orientation of those with autism is sadly echoed in a condition that is also remarkably on the rise and into whose terminal fog so many of our old people now wander and get lost: Alzheimer’s Disease, and the other forms of dementia.

Indeed, life now is increasingly book-ended by these conditions of disorientation, by autism and by dementia; the one affecting those youngest amongst us who cannot get a foothold on the world; the other affecting those oldest amongst us whose fingertips are losing their grasp.

It is uncertain which condition is the sadder; whether a child’s struggle to be at home in the world is more affecting than an old person’s struggle to stay at home in it. Either way, they describe a growing phenomenon of disorientation in our young and old people, a rising tide of bewilderment.

Worth reading in full.

Have Continuing Covid Restrictions in Schools Left Children Feeling Unfurnished, Permanently Waiting for the Upholsterer?

We’re publishing a guest post this morning by Daily Sceptic regular Dr. Sinéad Murphy, an Associate Researcher in Philosophy at Newcastle University. She returns to the subject of Joseph, her autistic son, who had to go almost a year-and-a-half without schooling thanks to the coronavirus restrictions. She segues from reflecting on her son’s predicament to talking about his needs and the needs of all children and why those needs are being neglected by the ‘new normal’. Here’s an extract:

When Dickens’s Paul Dombey – pale and slight and destined to an early grave – first arrives at the boarding school to which his misguided father has sent him, he is left waiting in the study for someone to show him to his quarters. Weary and forlorn, with an aching void in his little heart, Paul is described as feeling as if he had taken life unfurnished and the upholsterer were never coming.

It is an affecting scene, of abandonment to a world without familiar sights and sounds and smells, peopled with strangers whose faces are not known.

I think that children with autism often feel like little Paul (who, as it happens, does not socialise normally with other children and is described by other characters as ‘old fashioned’). They feel as if life is bereft of what is really meaningful: of daily routines that are not to be departed from and that are entered into by all around; of familiar enduring objects; and of the faces of those whom they understand and who understand them. It is why they are drawn to small corners, why they clamber to sit behind you on your chair so as to be cushioned tightly between a warm person and a supporting world – one of Joseph’s very first words was ‘cozy’.

The responsibility of those of us who care for children with autism is to try to make them more cozy: to gather around them as much of meaning as we can; to furnish them with personal and palpable content; to establish routines and interact with objects and befriend people so as to thicken their being-there and being-with – to be the upholsterers of their lives.

But all children need what children with autism demand. All children feel ‘depersonalised’ when there are not people around them who really care, and all children feel ‘derealised’ when the world does not stimulate their senses. All children wish that the upholsterer would come.

As with all Sinéad’s stuff, this essay is very much worth reading in full.