Genes are thought to contribute a certain amount to the cause of

Hear the words of Simon Baron-Cohen: “Genes are thought to contribute a certain amount to the cause of autism but it's not 100 per cent. It might be about 60 per cent genetic. So there are going to be environmental factors that mediate the impact of autism.” This statement, spoken in the measured language of science, resounds like an echo of ancient truth: that the human condition is never shaped by one force alone, but by the weaving together of inheritance and environment, of nature and nurture, of seed and soil.

The mention of genes reminds us of the deep inheritance passed down through the generations. Just as a tree grows according to the pattern hidden within its seed, so too do human beings carry within their bodies and minds the traces of their ancestors. In the case of autism, these genetic patterns may play a powerful role—guiding development, shaping perception, influencing the very way the world is experienced. But the wise hear Baron-Cohen’s reminder that genes are not destiny; they are possibility, awaiting the conditions of life to reveal their form.

The environmental factors he speaks of are like the winds, waters, and soils that determine how a seed shall grow. A tree planted in rich soil, given sunlight and care, may flourish even if its seed was small and fragile; another, though born of strong seed, may wither in drought or flood. So it is with the mind: the presence of love, understanding, education, and acceptance can transform the course of a person’s life, even when genetic influence is strong. This truth reminds us that though we inherit much, we are also shaped by the hands that hold us and the world that surrounds us.

History gives us many examples of this interplay. Consider the life of Helen Keller, who though struck by illness in early childhood, was guided by her teacher Anne Sullivan into a life of meaning, learning, and triumph. Her story teaches that the conditions around us—the patience of a mentor, the resources of a community, the hope given by those who refuse to abandon us—can awaken possibilities that genes alone cannot explain. In the same way, children with autism are not bound to struggle alone, for with support and understanding, their lives may blossom in ways unseen by those who judge only by biology.

Baron-Cohen’s words also remind us of humility. In a world that seeks simple answers, he declares that the truth is layered and complex. No single cause explains the richness of human diversity. No single factor can account for the challenges or the strengths of those with autism. The wise will therefore resist the temptation to reduce people to their genes or to their environment, but instead honor the mystery of both working together in harmony and tension.

The lesson, then, is one of responsibility. We cannot change the genes we are born with, but we can shape the environment around us. Parents, teachers, neighbors, and leaders hold in their hands the power to mediate the impact of autism—not through cures or eradication, but through compassion, adaptation, and support. To build classrooms that welcome, to craft societies that understand, to speak words of encouragement instead of scorn—these are the ways we transform possibility into flourishing.

Therefore, let each listener take action. Learn about autism, not to fear it, but to embrace the unique ways it shapes perception and thought. Offer patience instead of judgment, opportunity instead of exclusion. Remember always that every life is a garden—its seed may be determined, but the fruit it bears depends upon the care it receives.

Thus, Simon Baron-Cohen’s words stand as a teaching for the ages: autism is born of both genes and environmental factors, of inheritance and experience. And though we cannot command the past, we can shape the present. Let us, then, build a world where every seed is given light, water, and space to grow—so that each life, no matter its beginning, may rise to its fullest, radiant height.