News that Robert F. Kennedy Jr. is once again at the center of controversy over autism should not surprise anyone. He has made a career out of inhabiting the space that our political, medical, and cultural institutions have left empty. On the surface, his latest push, linking Tylenol use during pregnancy to autism development, is just another entry in his long list of questionable crusades. I wrote earlier this month about why I don’t believe Tylenol is the culprit and why piling more blame on mothers is both cruel and counterproductive. Emily Oster, an economist who dedicates her life to poring over data to answer parenting questions, dove deeper into the shaky science behind the Tylenol explanation. 

But that does not mean RFK’s rise on this issue can be dismissed. Quite the opposite: he has been able to step into a void primarily created by liberals’ indifference, fear, and complacency.

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Autism is one of the defining medical and cultural questions of our time. And yet, when parents ask even the most basic questions — Why are the rates skyrocketing? Why were experts so consistently wrong? Why is there so little curiosity from those in power? — they are met with suspicion. Democrats, who pride themselves on being the “party of science,” have proven themselves unwilling to touch autism with a ten-foot pole. 

They are perfectly willing, however, to devote endless attention to debunking “conspiracy theories” of celebrities and ordinary parents alike. They’re happy to tell us that the MMR shot and Tylenol definitely don’t cause autism. But they’re incurious about the factors that might. 

The conversation became not just about silencing misinformation, but about silencing inquiry itself. The result has been the very thing Democrats claim to fear: the elevation of conspiracy theorists and fringe voices.

The distrust at the heart of RFK Jr.’s popularity on autism is not an accident. It is the fruit of decades of missed opportunities. Democrats have made a political calculation that the safest path is silence: ignore the issue, relegate it to the margins, and hope no one notices that America now has an autism rate of 1 in 36 children, according to the CDC.

But parents have noticed. Families have noticed. Communities have noticed.

When establishment politicians refuse to ask hard questions for fear of sounding conspiratorial, someone else will. That “someone else” has too often been RFK Jr. I’m not a fan, but it would be dishonest to deny that RFK and his MAHA movement are asking the questions millions of families are asking, even if their answers are likely wrong.

That is what makes the intervention of people like journalist Leland Vittert so important. In an essay for The Wall Street Journal this week, adapted from his new book Born Lucky, which is out this week, he laid bare the absurdity of the silence.

“The rise of autism cases should be the scientific question of our time,” he told the Washington Examiner. “And to be fair, RFK’s past makes him an imperfect messenger. But at least he’s talking about it. My job as a TV journalist is to ask questions, so here it goes: In light of the epidemic of autism, do we really hate Trump (and by association, his appointees’ legitimate line of inquiry) more than we love our children?”

That last question cuts to the bone. Vittert is not endorsing RFK’s theory. He is calling out the failure of politicians and experts alike to take autism seriously. The fact that such a question has to be asked at all is damning.

Vittert’s own story also underscores how wrong the “experts” have been historically. His parents were told that his situation was hopeless. Instead, his father quit his job and devoted himself to preparing his son for adulthood. Vittert thrived not because the experts had the answers, but because his family refused to accept the prevailing wisdom. That pattern is repeated across countless families who, in defiance of institutional pessimism, have found ways to help their autistic children succeed.

The truth is that the medical establishment has mishandled autism for over a century. Steve Silberman’s landmark book Neurotribes traces this history in painful detail. Once upon a time, autism was blamed on “refrigerator mothers” — the idea that cold, unloving parenting created autistic children. That cruel theory devastated families and stigmatized mothers for decades. It was wrong. Later, experts said autistic children would never be able to work, marry, or contribute to society. That too has been proven wrong by generations of autistic adults who live full, meaningful lives. In each era, the experts were sure. And in each era, they were wrong.

The most glaring modern example of this is Applied Behavior Analysis, or ABA therapy. For decades, it has been the default recommendation from doctors and insurers after a child receives an autism diagnosis. Parents are told ABA is the gold standard, the only evidence-based pathway forward. But many adults with autism who underwent ABA now describe it as cruel, even abusive: a system that sought to extinguish natural autistic behaviors through rigid compliance training rather than nurture strengths and individuality. Entire advocacy movements have sprung up against ABA, with autistic voices at the center of the critique. And yet, it remains the institutional consensus recommendation. Once again, families are left wondering: how could “the experts” have been so sure and so wrong?

What’s striking is how little humility has followed these repeated failures. Despite a record of error, from refrigerator mothers to ABA to dire predictions about hopeless futures, today’s gatekeepers treat any attempt to ask questions about autism’s rise as heresy. Parents who express concern are accused of being dupes of conspiracy theorists. Journalists who inquire too deeply are told they are fueling misinformation. And politicians, especially Democrats, flee the scene rather than risk offending their base or the medical establishment.

It is worth asking why Democrats, in particular, have been so unwilling to touch autism. Part of it is political tribalism. If President Donald Trump, or one of his appointees, raises the issue, then Democrats feel obligated to dismiss it. If RFK Jr. is the loudest voice talking about it, then the whole conversation must be deemed illegitimate.

But part of it is also cultural. The Democratic coalition is tightly aligned with elite institutions: academia, public health, and the media. Questioning those institutions on something as sensitive as autism risks undermining their authority. Better, they think, to say nothing and hope the problem goes away.

The problem, of course, is not going away. Families are living it every day. And when they see the party that claims to champion science refuse to even ask questions, they turn elsewhere. That “elsewhere” is often dangerous. But Democrats have no one to blame but themselves.

Consider the rise of the MAHA movement’s focus on autism. Their theory, that environmental toxins, medications, and government cover-ups are the hidden drivers of autism, is not supported by the evidence we currently have. But they are gaining traction because no one else is asking questions out loud, and the experts have lost our trust. But it resonates because it fills the void left by political cowardice. 

When you refuse to even acknowledge that autism rates are skyrocketing, parents will latch onto anyone who does. I don’t support RFK Jr.’s larger worldview. But I do understand why families desperate for answers would listen.

The way out of this mess is not to stand firm on silence. It is to create a culture of inquiry that is rigorous but open. That means admitting when the experts have been wrong. It means acknowledging that autism is not just an abstract question but a lived reality for millions of families, and it can be devastating. It means funding research into causes and supports without fear of political blowback. Most of all, it means listening to parents without treating them as conspiracists. Parents know better than anyone when something is happening with their children. To dismiss their concerns as hysteria or misinformation is to sever trust permanently.

WHY SCHUMER HAS TO SHUT IT DOWN

RFK Jr. is not the answer to America’s autism crisis. However, he has been able to position himself as the only one willing to discuss it. That is a political failure of staggering proportions. Leland Vittert’s warning should echo in every political office and medical boardroom.

Do we hate our political opponents more than we love our children? That is the question. And if we cannot summon the courage to answer it honestly, then RFK and others like him will continue to fill the vacuum we created.