Is there anything that can’t be put down to a ‘condition’?

I suppose it is overstating the case to suggest that dyslexia is simply a term coined to assuage the disappointment of middle-class parents faced with offspring who are considerably thicker than they fondly imagined them to be. There was an interesting report a few years ago by Professor Joe Elliott of Durham University. He wrote: ‘On the basis of current research, there are no meaningful grounds to differentiate between so-called dyslexic and non-dyslexic poor readers. Genetics, neuroscience and cognitive science can help us better understand the underlying nature of reading disability, but they do not offer means to make a dyslexic/poor reader distinction.’

Well, quite. The dyslexia industry — by now substantial — is angry that a new emphasis on spelling, punctuation and syntax in exam marking is discriminating against this vulnerable, and I daresay vibrant, section of the school population. Perhaps it is. But simply to define a condition is not remotely to alter it. Indeed everything, in the end, might be documented as a ‘condition’.

I performed very badly in several exams back in the 1970s, as the consequence of a debilitating condition known as ‘utter and complete bone idleness’, a venerable Liddle trait stretching back through the generations. Others failed because of a condition known as ‘stupidity’ or ‘pig ignorance’, which will undoubtedly have both genetic and socio-economic components.

We are what we are and should be wary of this cringing obsequy, which seeks to affirm that everyone is exactly the same, except for these unfortunate ‘conditions’ which append to them. It is a tautology, no? Back in 2016 my daughter, Emmeline, was irritated to discover that nearly half of the pupils taking the 11-plus examination alongside her had been documented as dyslexic, allowing them extra time to complete the exam.