Set Up for Failure
The "abusive" tendency of ABA isn't solely in the physical punishment that some programs use; or anyway, it mightn't need those things going on to be abusive.
It might be worse, for many kids, to be so often told "No. Wrong. You're doing it wrong. That's wrong. Stop doing that. Sit down. Be quiet." Over and over again.
It's not really failing that's so bad. You have to fail a few times before you get something right; and someone who is naturally fond of learning won't mind that sort of failure, as with every failure you learn a little more; but that sort of learning is self-directed and playful, not regimented and externally imposed... in fact, regimented identification of failure tends to make unavailable the tendency to take failure as a sort of natural experimental step to learning. You have to know when you're not doing something right, and know what you can improve (I have in fact had trouble with a professor who would not tell me what I should improve, and had to get a counselor to intercede for me); but there comes a point at which correction becomes not useful but oppressive.
The main problem is that the failure is pointed out, made obvious, repeatedly--while it is labeled, oh-so-strongly, as bad. Unacceptable. When failure is both unacceptable and inevitable (and it is inevitable in all learning), the child is set up for defeat.
When somebody tells me I am doing something wrong, dismissing my effort when I've done my best at it, it hurts more than just about anything you could say to me. Whether that's breaking a rule, or messing up a problem in class, or being reprimanded for being mistakenly rude, every time I feel very bad about it. Sometimes it's necessary, sure; and I don't hate people for doing it. But when I have tried my best, and when it's still no good, it feels like... well, it feels as though I've disappointed myself, and been disappointed by myself, at the same time. I want very much to do well. When I'm told I haven't, it is almost the same upset as having plans changed suddenly.
With small things, it's easy enough to correct. I only feel that way for a little time. Like at work: "Put the slides in the ethanol for five minutes, not three." Okay. I can do that. It feels bad to be corrected; but once I've set the timer for five minutes, the feeling fades and they eventually see I remember to do it that way. Little unexpected events aren't so bad--but they add up. So does criticism.
If I were told repeatedly that I was doing something wrong, especially in a loud, abrupt way like a "NO!" or even a physical slap or shock... Well, it wouldn't be the physical that hurt me the most. It would be the rejection of my effort that hurt. I tried my best and you still do not think it's any good. I've done it wrong. I've failed. That hurts.
I initially failed at going to college because I wasn't ready to live on my own yet, nor manage college without help. I became depressed because of my failure--so badly depressed that I became suicidal and had to be hospitalized twice (though whether these hospitals had any positive effect is rather doubtful). When I am told that my best effort isn't good enough, and worse, that who I am is not good enough, it hurts more than any physical force ever could.
If only they will tell me how to do it right, I don't have too much trouble with corrections. But there is only so much correction somebody can take, especially someone like me. Repeated, over-and-over, as in ABA, "This is the only right way to do things; your effort is not good enough," would have created that sort of suicidal depression in me that happened when I failed in school. Of course, at the age when one usually goes through ABA, suicidality cannot easily be acted on, especially if one's emotions are also blunted from being dosed with neuroleptics. (Some children, reportedly, have tried.)
I'm quite sure I deserved those failing grades, of course. One doesn't learn physics while staring at the wall and trying to gather one's slowed thoughts into a coherent pattern. What might have helped--the supports that now allow me to legitimately earn good grades and hold a (heavily individualized) internship--simply wasn't available to me at the time. Circumstances basically set me up for failure, and the results, with my personality, were inevitable. Still, no one is to blame, because no one--including me--knew I had more challenges than most.
But people teaching little autistic children don't have that excuse. They know the child learns differently... or, they should know.
One shouldn't blame a dyslexic person for not reading a word correctly, nor a deaf person for failing to recognize a tune, nor an autistic person for not reciting the correct greeting. And yet... this ABA... it is setting the child up for repeated failure. For everything the child learns successfully, he will have been told, "No." "Wrong.", or else have his effort ignored (which amounts to the same thing) repeatedly; and it's even worse when the skill is developmentally unavailable to learn at all, and there isn't even a success at the end of all that failure. I think that happens rather often, as people have an idea of autistic people needing years of practice to manage the simplest things. They will try to teach the child something he is not ready to learn, and teach it for years, until he is finally ready to learn it and does; and then they will assume it was their teaching that got him to learn it.
If a child fails at school, you get him tutoring and show him how to catch up. You don't just sit him down in front of the problem until he chances on the correct answer. Long before he does, frustration and the repetition of "No!" and "Wrong!" will have caught up with him, and he'll get the idea that he oughtn't to try at all, lest he fail. Nor does it do any good to guide his hand through the movements of making the right answer on the paper, as it won't mean he's understood the concept; only how to draw the correct figures. But if that child is autistic, both forcing repetition and forcing imitation without understanding are well-accepted and widely-used techniques.
The problem of prompt-dependence might be directly connected to that, too, for some cases. Having to hear someone tell you to do something in order to be able to do anything at all could be directly connected to the natural hesitance that anyone feels to initiate action, after repeatedly having been told "no!" when he takes any sort of initiative. I realize that for some it's an executive function issue; but for others, I would surmise it is closer to, "If I try anything on my own, I risk being told I'm wrong; so I'd better play it safe and not try at all."
It might be worse, for many kids, to be so often told "No. Wrong. You're doing it wrong. That's wrong. Stop doing that. Sit down. Be quiet." Over and over again.
It's not really failing that's so bad. You have to fail a few times before you get something right; and someone who is naturally fond of learning won't mind that sort of failure, as with every failure you learn a little more; but that sort of learning is self-directed and playful, not regimented and externally imposed... in fact, regimented identification of failure tends to make unavailable the tendency to take failure as a sort of natural experimental step to learning. You have to know when you're not doing something right, and know what you can improve (I have in fact had trouble with a professor who would not tell me what I should improve, and had to get a counselor to intercede for me); but there comes a point at which correction becomes not useful but oppressive.
The main problem is that the failure is pointed out, made obvious, repeatedly--while it is labeled, oh-so-strongly, as bad. Unacceptable. When failure is both unacceptable and inevitable (and it is inevitable in all learning), the child is set up for defeat.
When somebody tells me I am doing something wrong, dismissing my effort when I've done my best at it, it hurts more than just about anything you could say to me. Whether that's breaking a rule, or messing up a problem in class, or being reprimanded for being mistakenly rude, every time I feel very bad about it. Sometimes it's necessary, sure; and I don't hate people for doing it. But when I have tried my best, and when it's still no good, it feels like... well, it feels as though I've disappointed myself, and been disappointed by myself, at the same time. I want very much to do well. When I'm told I haven't, it is almost the same upset as having plans changed suddenly.
With small things, it's easy enough to correct. I only feel that way for a little time. Like at work: "Put the slides in the ethanol for five minutes, not three." Okay. I can do that. It feels bad to be corrected; but once I've set the timer for five minutes, the feeling fades and they eventually see I remember to do it that way. Little unexpected events aren't so bad--but they add up. So does criticism.
If I were told repeatedly that I was doing something wrong, especially in a loud, abrupt way like a "NO!" or even a physical slap or shock... Well, it wouldn't be the physical that hurt me the most. It would be the rejection of my effort that hurt. I tried my best and you still do not think it's any good. I've done it wrong. I've failed. That hurts.
I initially failed at going to college because I wasn't ready to live on my own yet, nor manage college without help. I became depressed because of my failure--so badly depressed that I became suicidal and had to be hospitalized twice (though whether these hospitals had any positive effect is rather doubtful). When I am told that my best effort isn't good enough, and worse, that who I am is not good enough, it hurts more than any physical force ever could.
If only they will tell me how to do it right, I don't have too much trouble with corrections. But there is only so much correction somebody can take, especially someone like me. Repeated, over-and-over, as in ABA, "This is the only right way to do things; your effort is not good enough," would have created that sort of suicidal depression in me that happened when I failed in school. Of course, at the age when one usually goes through ABA, suicidality cannot easily be acted on, especially if one's emotions are also blunted from being dosed with neuroleptics. (Some children, reportedly, have tried.)
I'm quite sure I deserved those failing grades, of course. One doesn't learn physics while staring at the wall and trying to gather one's slowed thoughts into a coherent pattern. What might have helped--the supports that now allow me to legitimately earn good grades and hold a (heavily individualized) internship--simply wasn't available to me at the time. Circumstances basically set me up for failure, and the results, with my personality, were inevitable. Still, no one is to blame, because no one--including me--knew I had more challenges than most.
But people teaching little autistic children don't have that excuse. They know the child learns differently... or, they should know.
One shouldn't blame a dyslexic person for not reading a word correctly, nor a deaf person for failing to recognize a tune, nor an autistic person for not reciting the correct greeting. And yet... this ABA... it is setting the child up for repeated failure. For everything the child learns successfully, he will have been told, "No." "Wrong.", or else have his effort ignored (which amounts to the same thing) repeatedly; and it's even worse when the skill is developmentally unavailable to learn at all, and there isn't even a success at the end of all that failure. I think that happens rather often, as people have an idea of autistic people needing years of practice to manage the simplest things. They will try to teach the child something he is not ready to learn, and teach it for years, until he is finally ready to learn it and does; and then they will assume it was their teaching that got him to learn it.
If a child fails at school, you get him tutoring and show him how to catch up. You don't just sit him down in front of the problem until he chances on the correct answer. Long before he does, frustration and the repetition of "No!" and "Wrong!" will have caught up with him, and he'll get the idea that he oughtn't to try at all, lest he fail. Nor does it do any good to guide his hand through the movements of making the right answer on the paper, as it won't mean he's understood the concept; only how to draw the correct figures. But if that child is autistic, both forcing repetition and forcing imitation without understanding are well-accepted and widely-used techniques.
The problem of prompt-dependence might be directly connected to that, too, for some cases. Having to hear someone tell you to do something in order to be able to do anything at all could be directly connected to the natural hesitance that anyone feels to initiate action, after repeatedly having been told "no!" when he takes any sort of initiative. I realize that for some it's an executive function issue; but for others, I would surmise it is closer to, "If I try anything on my own, I risk being told I'm wrong; so I'd better play it safe and not try at all."