True.
On the other hand, there are children like my son. I knew very early on he was odd. He got more odd as the years passed. The usual ways of parenting, teaching, relating to him were not very useful. I worried, I prayed and I read everything I could get my hands on.
Finally, when my son was 10 years old, we had a name, a label, a diagnosis. The "only" thing that did was help me find people who could understand him and help me to understand him. It helped me to find out that I am not a bad mother and it helped him to know that he isn't stupid, bad or crazy.
A name is whatever you make it be. For some, it may be incorrect or negative. For others it is a light in a very dark place.
I've visited with several people with Asperger's Syndrome, and they're quite nice. My mother taught one of them (Special Ed. English, high school) before she retired, and she found them delightful too.
It is true that having such a label does remove cruelty. Unknown to me at the time, one of my squadron mates in Air Cadet Camp (1984) was afflicted with Asperger's Syndrome. (This was actually unknown to everyone there, and such a realization didn't strike me until a year ago.) The more aggressive boys gave this fellow a "wedgie" and a "purple nurple," supposedly for the purpose of shaking him out of his lethargy.
Had his true condition been known, he wouldn't have gotten that treatment from the unit.
I'm of the old school, which says quite clearly that anyone with an affliction of this sort rates only compassion, unless there is a clear and present danger to someone else. The 'new school' seems to think that the proper use of the mentally afflicted is as new model Jim Dandies.
I wish I could continue on this track, but the proper words of emotion just leave me feeling drained. Best wishes to you and your son.