Autism Research Doesn't Need Washington's Help
When the state dictates both the questions science asks and the answers it offers, it converts knowledge into propaganda and health into a matter of politics.
At a well-attended press event in September, Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. announced a "bold" new initiative to identify the causes and treatments for autism. Citing research suggesting a possible link between taking acetaminophen during pregnancy and neurodevelopmental disorders, including autistic spectrum disorder (ASD), the initiative included the National Institutes of Health spending $50 million more on research into acetaminophen and other possible environmental causes of what Kennedy called an "epidemic" of autism.
Set aside the fact that the so-called epidemic of autism does not result from a surge in actual cases but from a broadening of the diagnosis over the past 50 years—from what psychiatrists in the 1970s called a form of childhood schizophrenia, marked by early social withdrawal, impaired language, and rigid, repetitive behaviors, to today's ASD. This new understanding includes highly capable, sometimes gifted individuals who simply interact with others in unusual or atypical ways. Additionally, because social, educational, and health care services are now more accessible to children with ASD, increased parental awareness and more screening by pediatricians, school psychologists, and educators have led to greater detection.
That nuance seems lost on Kennedy, who treats autism as if it were an infection or a tumor. But government bureaucrats don't usually do nuance very well.
The scientific research Kennedy cited to support his suspicion of acetaminophen's role was all conducted by clinical researchers, unconnected to this administration or political agendas. This behavior isn't unique to Kennedy. Politicians of every stripe can't resist the urge to hitch themselves to science, claiming breakthroughs that are already underway or steering research toward pet causes.
For example, President Donald Trump signed an executive order to "unlock cures for pediatric cancer" by allocating $100 million in federal funds to improve the use of artificial intelligence (AI) in cancer research. But, AI is already transforming medical research by analyzing genomics, imaging, and clinical records to improve diagnostics, accelerate drug discovery, and tailor treatments for patients. This progress results from technological advancement and necessity, not government intervention. The government can, at best, influence the pace; at worst, it distorts progress for political show. Trump's executive order wasn't about leadership—it was about wanting to be seen at the front of the parade.
When the government involves itself in the scientific debate—usually through funding initiatives—it distorts researchers' agendas and direction.
Medical scientist Terence Kealey sees the food pyramid as a textbook case of government distorting science. When the 1977 Senate Select Committee on Nutrition and Human Needs adopted Ancel Keys' unproven theory linking saturated fat to heart disease, it encouraged Americans to replace fats with carbs. That policy change contributed to the rise of trans fats and coincided with increasing rates of obesity and diabetes. Kealey argues that when the government involves itself in research, it doesn't just fund science—it influences it, often in ways that mislead the public.
The food pyramid illustrates the disastrous consequences that can result when diet policy is hijacked by politicians. The same risk looms now with autism research: Will the White House's suspicion of acetaminophen skew inquiry away from more valuable discoveries? The "fact sheet" that White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt issued, titled "Evidence Suggests a Link Between Acetaminophen, Autism," would certainly lead readers to draw that conclusion.
The fact sheet cites five "studies" to support its claim. Two of them, a "Harvard study" and a "Mount Sinai study," are actually the same study—one of the authors was part of Harvard's faculty and the other was affiliated with the Mount Sinai School of Medicine. A third study examined acetaminophen levels in the meconium (stool) of newborns, which makes it hard to determine the timing and duration of exposure. The remaining two studies had similar limitations and involved cohorts that might not be representative of the population.
The fact sheet also cited a "consensus statement" by clinicians urging their colleagues to be cautious and judicious when recommending acetaminophen to pregnant patients with fever, to which the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology responded, "The authors are not recommending anything counter to what is already done by obstetrician-gynecologists when prescribing acetaminophen for a given clinical condition." In other words, "Thanks, we've got this."
Glaringly absent from Leavitt's fact sheet was a crucial study from Sweden, published in 2024, which followed nearly 2.5 million children born in Sweden between 1995 and 2019, using sibling controls. It found "no evidence that acetaminophen use during pregnancy was associated with autism…or intellectual disability." Its conclusion stated that acetaminophen during pregnancy was "not associated with children's risk of autism, ADHD, or intellectual disability."
As the saying goes, "He who pays the piper calls the tune." President Dwight D. Eisenhower cautioned that "public policy could itself become the captive of a scientific-technological elite." That warning rings true today: Researchers who depend on federal grants know their chances for funding shrink if their work runs counter to the prevailing narrative.
Kealey argues that government funding of science is not only unnecessary but often counterproductive. He points to history, where science thrived under private patronage and market demand long before bureaucracies took over. Public funding, he says, crowds out private investment, replacing risk-taking with conformity and steering research toward politically advantageous or "safe" projects. Instead of speeding up discovery, government agencies slow it down by forcing scientists to chase grants rather than pursue ideas. According to Kealey, status, recognition, and peer competition naturally drive innovation, and when left alone, markets and private actors are more than capable of supporting it.
What we know so far about the link between prenatal acetaminophen and autism—that it remains inconclusive—is based on independent clinical studies not influenced by a government agenda. Without government interference, these studies might find definitive proof that prenatal acetaminophen causes ASD, or they could lead to dead ends, encouraging scientists to explore other possibilities. Scientific research is a process of trial and error.
In a free society, government has a limited but legitimate role in public health: protecting people when one person's actions threaten the lives or safety of others. Too often, however, government directs research and policy toward personal health decisions that individuals can make for themselves, with expert advice if they choose.
When a public health agency issues opinions on personal health, those opinions quickly gain the force of mandates—disclaimers notwithstanding. History shows how badly this can go, from the food pyramid fiasco to the heavy-handed COVID-19 response that silenced dissent. Good public health policy requires humility, precision, and honesty. If we want a healthier future for our children, we must reject ready-made conclusions and insist on evidence over ideology. When the state dictates both the questions science asks and the answers it offers, it converts knowledge into propaganda and health into a matter of politics.
We don't need Washington to endorse a favored theory or influence the outcome; we need honest, independent science that can follow the evidence wherever it leads. The Swedish study that challenges the acetaminophen story shows researchers are capable of figuring this out without political interference. Parents deserve straight answers, not government-produced fiction.
So thanks for the offer, Mr. Secretary—but when it comes to understanding autism, we've got this.