By Leland Vittert

I grew up with autism, and it was hell. Understanding why autism diagnoses have skyrocketed in the U.S. in recent decades should be one of the biggest scientific questions of our time.

But the news that Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. is preparing to publish a report this month on the causes of autism has been met with widespread skepticism. Critics rightly point to his longstanding dismissal of the scientific consensus on many public-health issues, including his linking of autism to vaccinations and now (according to leaks about the report) to folate deficiencies and the use of acetaminophen by pregnant women.

A condition that affects millions of children and families is too important, however, to become just another political football. Kennedy may be the wrong messenger, but understanding autism and how to prevent and treat it couldn't be more urgent.

When I was diagnosed with what we now know to be autism in the mid-1980s, about one in 1,000 American children were considered autistic. Today it's one in 31. Boys are three times more likely to be diagnosed than girls, and for boys in poor and minority communities, the rate is even higher. Increased awareness of the condition explains part of the increase, but not all.

Jay Bhattacharya, director of the National Institutes of Health, has acknowledged that no one seems to know what is responsible. "There's been a tremendous increase in autism diagnoses...and everyone has their pet theory for why," he has said. "The answer in that situation is to do excellent science so that we can find out what causes it, and then we can address it in an informed way."

When I was diagnosed 40 years ago, my father asked the psychologist if there was anything he and my mother could do. The reply was "Generally not." Today, parents of autistic children are offered more guidance and some options for therapies, but it is nowhere close to enough. In the past 40 years we've seen major advances in the treatment of HIV, cancer, organ transplants, mental health and many other conditions, but not for autism. Nor is there any way for prospective parents to know their risk of having an autistic child, or how to reduce it.

Growing up, I didn't understand why I was so different from other kids and why making friends was so hard. When I was in fifth grade, the gym teacher would put me with the girls to protect me from the boys. In eighth grade, an art teacher said to me in front of the entire class, "If my dog was as ugly as you I would shave its ass and make it walk backward."

I spent a lot of time in the principal's office, either because I was acting out or because I was getting bullied -- oftentimes both. My parents were often there too. During one meeting, my mother remembers looking down, surprised and appalled to see that she had shredded her empty Styrofoam cup into a thousand pieces.

Every parent loves their child, and there are some parents of autistic children who feel that searching for a cause or cure somehow diminishes their children. But if my wife was pregnant and I could check a box to decide whether my child would have autism or not, I would check "no" without hesitation. Who wouldn't?

Kennedy's history of conspiracy theories makes his search for the causes of autism easy to dismiss. But the political establishment shouldn't prefer scoring points against the Trump administration to admitting we urgently need new research on the subject.

I don't want to see another generation of kids face the same problems I did, or another generation of parents who are angry and frustrated that science can do so little for their children.

Leland Vittert is NewsNation's chief Washington anchor. His new book, "Born Lucky: A Dedicated Father, A Grateful Son, and My Journey with Autism," will be published on Sept. 30 by Harper Horizon (which, like The Wall Street Journal, is owned by News Corp).

(END) Dow Jones Newswires

September 12, 2025 09:30 ET (13:30 GMT)

Copyright (c) 2025 Dow Jones & Company, Inc.