Autistism is Not an Excuse: Elon Musk, a Dangerous Salute, and the Harmful Misinformation About Neurodiversity

I am an autistic counsellor who specializes in working with ADHD and Autism. Over the years, I have devoted myself to advocating for understanding, dismantling stigma, and building a more inclusive and compassionate world for neurodivergent people. It’s not just my work—it’s my life. Autism is a part of who I am, and every day I encounter clients who share similar struggles: living in a world that misunderstands them, fights their existence, and diminishes their humanity.

This is why public perception matters so much. Representation matters. And public figures—especially those who are autistic—shape how the world sees us. That’s why, when I saw the video of Elon Musk performing what appeared to be a Nazi salute during Donald Trump’s inauguration, I felt a deep sense of dread and heartbreak. It wasn’t just the act itself, though that alone was jarring enough. It was the realization of what would follow: the excuses, the defenses, and, inevitably, the invocation of his autism to explain away the inexcusable.

Let me be clear: Elon Musk’s autism did not make him perform a gesture steeped in genocide, white supremacy, and hatred. Yet that’s exactly the narrative that Musk himself and his defenders have leaned into. Almost immediately after the footage surfaced, right-wing politicians, commentators, and media figures began parroting excuses. They claimed it was innocent, a loving gesture, and a result of Musk’s neurodivergence. In the same breath, neo-Nazi and white supremacist groups celebrated the moment, proudly claiming the gesture as their own. To them, it was an acknowledgment—a nod to their hateful ideology by one of the most powerful and visible figures in the world.

Watching this unfold in real time was both horrifying and profoundly disheartening. This wasn’t just a fleeting moment of controversy. It was a glaring example of how deeply entrenched misinformation and prejudice about autism remain—and how easily those in power can weaponize those misconceptions.

The hypocrisy of Musk’s narrative is staggering. For years, he has cultivated an image of himself as a creative genius and visionary, someone who has revolutionized industries and reshaped the future. He has publicly credited his autism with helping him think differently, solve complex problems, and achieve groundbreaking success. To his followers, Musk’s autism is part of his brand, something that sets him apart and makes him extraordinary. But now, when faced with criticism for his actions, autism has suddenly become a convenient scapegoat. In this narrative, autism isn’t a source of brilliance—it’s an excuse for a gesture that even a child could recognize as morally reprehensible.

You can’t have it both ways. You can’t celebrate autism as the key to your success in one moment and use it as a shield to deflect accountability the next. Autism isn’t a tool to justify genius or a prop to explain away wrongdoing. It’s a fundamental part of who we are—our strengths, our challenges, our perspectives—and it’s not something that should be reduced to a convenient narrative for the world’s richest man.

But this isn’t just about Musk. It’s about what his actions and the narratives that followed say about the world we live in. Autism is already deeply misunderstood. Many people still cling to harmful stereotypes that portray autistic individuals as cold, unfeeling, or incapable of understanding social norms. These misconceptions don’t just hurt—they actively harm. They fuel discrimination, limit opportunities, and create barriers that keep autistic people from living fully and authentically.

For Musk to tie his autism to a gesture so inextricably linked to hatred and genocide reinforces these falsehoods. It gives weight to the lie that autistic people are socially or morally disconnected, that we can’t understand the impact of our actions, or that we’re incapable of empathy. This is categorically untrue. Autistic people aren’t morally compromised; we’re human. And we are just as capable of distinguishing right from wrong as anyone else.

The fallout from this incident didn’t happen in a vacuum. It unfolded in a cultural and political climate where misinformation and hatred are on the rise. Neo-Nazi and white supremacist groups didn’t just quietly observe Musk’s actions—they celebrated them. They claimed the gesture as a symbol of alignment, a nod of solidarity from someone who has become a powerful and visible figure. And it didn’t stop there. Musk’s well-documented history of engaging with extremist accounts on X (formerly Twitter) only adds fuel to the fire. His actions, his platform, and his influence have already emboldened far-right groups, and this moment was no exception.

What’s particularly chilling is how quickly alt-right politicians, conservative media outlets, and public figures jumped to Musk’s defense. They weren’t trying to protect autistic people. They weren’t building understanding or fostering compassion. They were weaponizing autism to deflect criticism and normalize behavior that aligns with their far-right agenda. In their hands, autism wasn’t a diagnosis—it was a shield for white supremacy, a tool to excuse behavior that should never be excused.

This should terrify all of us. The people rushing to defend Musk’s actions aren’t just ignoring history—they’re rewriting it in real time. They’re normalizing gestures and rhetoric that embolden hate, and they’re using autism as a smokescreen to justify it. The harm this does to the autistic community is immeasurable.

But this moment does not define us. Elon Musk does not define us. Autism is so much more than the harmful narratives being spun around this incident. Every day, autistic individuals are making meaningful contributions to the world. We are educators, scientists, artists, advocates, and innovators. We bring creativity, passion, and dedication to everything we do. And we do this despite a world that often misunderstands us, underestimates us, and devalues us.

I see this every day in my work as a counselor. I see it in the clients who are striving to build lives of meaning and purpose; autistic community members who are breaking barriers and reshaping industries. I see it in the quiet acts of kindness and the bold acts of leadership that so many autistic individuals bring to the world. These are the stories that deserve to be told. These are the examples that should shape how the world sees us.

This is why visibility matters. The more the world sees who we really are—the more they see our humanity, our strengths, and our contributions—the harder it becomes for moments like this to define us. We are not the stereotypes. We are not the scapegoats. We are people, and our lives matter.

And to those who still insist that Elon Musk’s gesture was innocent, I have a suggestion:

The next time you’re at work or standing in a crowded street, try doing the exact same thing. Perform the gesture with the same timing and posture. Watch how people react. Better yet, film it and post it online. See how the world responds to your "innocent" act of "sending love."

Or maybe don’t. Because after all, I imagine you’d prefer not to explain your actions at your next staff meeting, or family dinner.