But in a letter written March 1 and obtained byThe Crimson, the FDA requested additionalinformation about the decelerator and thestructure of the studies BRI is conducting.
According to this recent letter, the FDA hasdetermined "it is in the best interest of thepublic health that [BRI's] studies be conducted inaccordance with the full requirements of theInvestigational Device Exemptions regulation," asopposed to less thorough pre-market approvalprocess.
Parents of patients have been strenuousadvocates both for and against aversive therapy.Some have taken a public profile, testifyingduring state hearings on BRI and appearing onnational television.
Driscoll's program, Amego, uses a star pupilnamed Cory Genereux to show that abusive patientscan be treated without aversives or drugs.
Cory, the son of Sandra and Wesley Genereux ofSouth Easton, is autistic and has engaged in boutsof violence towards himself and others since hewas little.
Between the ages of 14 and 20, Cory was deniedadmission to 25 special needs programs becausethey deemed he was too difficult for theirfacilities.
And Cory was kicked out of three schools forinjuring staff and students. At one school, hisbehavior put a staffer in the hospital.
In another incident, Cory trapped his father inthe bathroom, pinned his mother to her bed and bither on the head while slowly twisting her neckaround. After that, the autistic 20-year-old wasaccepted at Amego.
Amego initially had to add extra exits to eachroom and escape routes from the building toaccommodate Cory. But only three years after beingadmitted, he has a part-time job in town, seldomabuses himself or others and returns home forvisits, Driscoll says.
At hearings last month on the Anti-AversiveBill proposed by Rep. David Cohen (D.-Newton),Sandra Genereux and Driscoll told Cory's story.Genereux pleaded for the end of painful aversivesand likened BRI's program to "torture in the DarkAges."
But for every Cory opponents can produce, BRIpresents a success story of its own.
Take the example of the autistic son of aHarvard professor. Before being admitted to BRI,the son used to put his hand down his throat andpull out pieces of his own esophagus, according toIsrael.
The professor and his wife both declined tocomment for this story and asked that their namesnot be used.
But their son--called "Brian" in an article inthe Cambridge TAB--has improved so much at theinstitute that the professor and his wife head acommittee called the BRI Parents and FriendsAssociation.
Members of the association testify on behalf ofBRI at state and court hearings on aversivetherapies. According to Israel, "Brian" no longerhurts himself and is well enough to return homefor unsupervised visits.
With all the conflicting testimony, aresolution to the controversy seems far-off. Bothsides claim that morality and science supporttheir cause, but the moral and scientific factsare unclear.
Israel acknowledge: "There are manywell-meaning people who believe you should neveruse aversive therapy."
And as long as the controversy rages, theembattled Dr. Israel will be unable to achieve hisideal--and Skinner's ideal--of a communal utopia