Neurodivergence isn’t the whole story. Your practice shouldn’t treat it like one.

In recent years, practitioners across criminal justice, safeguarding and prevention have become increasingly aware of the relationship between neurodivergence, online spaces and extremism. In a recent Home Affairs Committee Inquiry, neurodiversity was featured front and centre.

In many ways, this awareness is long overdue. However, findings from my research suggest that how we understand this relationship matters just as much as whether we recognise it at all. A recurring issue identified by practitioners was the reliance on surface-level understandings of neurodivergence, particularly autism. While intended to explain vulnerability, these simplified narratives may unintentionally increase risk, both for neurodivergent people and for the systems tasked with supporting them.

From “innocent” content to harmful pathways

Participants widely agreed that neurodivergent people can be vulnerable to online exploitation. They described a familiar pathway: engagement begins with seemingly harmless activity, such as gaming, memes and online humour, before progressing, often by chance, into darker and more extreme content. Over time, what once felt shocking becomes normalised, especially within closed or encrypted online spaces where graphic or extremist material circulates freely.

Importantly, this process was not unique to neurodivergent people. However, practitioners frequently suggested that autistic traits, particularly social isolation and specialist interests (often termed “fixations”), increased susceptibility to being pulled deeper by algorithms and online communities. As one practitioner explained, when someone “goes down the rabbit hole”, algorithms can quickly connect them with likeminded groups, reinforcing behaviours and identities that feel meaningful and validating.

This matters, because traits alone do not explain behaviour.

Where surface-level understanding becomes a problem

While these observations were grounded in practice, the way neurodivergence was discussed often lacked depth. Autism, in particular, was frequently treated as a catch-all explanation. All participants defaulted to talking about autistic individuals when asked about neurodiversity, with ADHD mentioned far less frequently. Deficit-focused language such as “symptoms”, “issues” and “suffering from” appeared in over half of the interviews.

By focusing narrowly on perceived inherent characteristics, such as routine-seeking, intense interests and social differences, there was little acknowledgement of situational and structural risk factors. Factors such as social exclusion, disrupted education, lack of meaningful support, or periods of isolation were often secondary, despite clearly shaping online engagement.