Neuroinclusion: tech tools are great, but culture is key
I am one of the 15 to 20% of the world’s population who can be defined as neurodivergent. Neurodivergence is natural variation in how our brains are wired, and it covers diagnoses including ADHD, autism, dyslexia and dyspraxia.
Being ‘neurotypical’ is a construct, and neurodivergence is a difference, not a deficit. But that difference can be hard to carry in environments where the systems and processes we navigate rarely allow for a different way of processing or fit the way we work. It is exhausting, and it leads to staggering rates of burnout.
I spend my working life championing neuroinclusion, leading a wonderfully diverse team to empower young people and upskill organisations. It is a brilliant, mission led job, and it is the first time in my squiggly career journey that I have celebrated the way my brain works.
Tech as a tool
When we talk about making workplaces more accessible for neurodivergent employees, we often reach for tech. Screen readers. AI note takers. AI agents. Calendar reminders. Whether they are tools we choose for ourselves or part of a formal adjustment package, neurodivergent brains often rely on tech to make working in a neurotypical world achievable.
I am no exception. I use an AI agent every day to help me focus, and it is counting down the minutes I have given this blog as I type.
Neurodivergence in the tech industry
I can see exactly why neurodivergent brains are drawn to tech. It rewards pattern recognition, deep focus, systems thinking and original ideas, and there is a role for every kind of brain. Which is why I was not surprised to read, in the Tech Talent Charter’s Diversity in Tech report, that around half of tech workers identify as neurodivergent. I was alarmed, though, that the same employers estimate just 3% of their workforce are.
That disparity brought to mind an interview a colleague recently carried out with Jake, a neurodivergent employee we have been working with.
Jake is a talented programmer. He pushed himself through a computer science masters until, in his words, it “led to burnout”. He dropped out, and for nearly two years could not even face filling in a job application. When he did return to work, it was at a tech startup with what he describes as “a very harsh expectation” and little room for wellbeing. It was only when he moved somewhere with real support and “a very big focus on health and wellbeing” that things changed. “I was really able to apply myself to my own strengths and the ways that make me unique,” he said. Same person, same skill, different culture.
Does the tech industry rely on tools more than culture?
Jake had every technical skill his employers needed. What was lacking, until he found the right place, was a culture that felt psychologically safe, and no tool could have fixed that. And Jake is not unusual. A recent NeuroBridge report found that neuroinclusion was the strongest single predictor of wellbeing across a whole workforce, ahead of diversity, inclusion and training initiatives, and that 58% of those who stay silent at work do so for fear of discrimination and stigma.
Because neurodivergence is a human experience, and a human experience needs human connection and an environment of psychological safety. You cannot build that with tech. You build it with conversation, with understanding, and with transparency.
Tech tools absolutely have their place. I rely heavily on mine, and we have even built one of our own, with Professor Ian Burn at the University of Liverpool, to help employers make their recruitment more accessible. But they should never replace inclusive workplace culture.
