Common perceptions: Probably the prototypical image of disability has to do with mobility. Eliazbeth Guffey set out to write about the history of the now ubiquitous symbol for disability, the International Symbol of Access, the wheelchair, in Designi…
Probably the prototypical image of disability has to do with mobility. Eliazbeth Guffey set out to write about the history of the now ubiquitous symbol for disability, the International Symbol of Access, the wheelchair, in Designing Disability: Symbols, Space, and Society. But she learned much more about the movement toward barrier-free living.
She records that the modern wheelchair did not appear until the 1940s, primarily in Britain. As designs improved and chairs more common around the world, some people perceived that much disability was caused by physical barriers which, of course, came from social and medical attitudes. These attitudes considered disability as an extraordinary problem which should be dealt with by exceptional means rather than by normalizing it as part of every-day thinking. It was a question of whether the disabled should strive to "fit in." Disability advocacy movements in the U.S. and Europe were split by the 1960s, disagreeing about whether the built environment should be constructed with disability in mind, and to what extent signage should play a part, e.g., indicating wheelchair-accessible paths, ramps, doorways, elevators, and toilet facilities.
The idea of "access", she writes, typically identifies a host of very real accommodations, such as Braille, signs, ramps, and elevators. For the disabled (as she identifies herself), "access" becomes a legalistic term with different meanings. The Americans with Disabilities Act, ensures access to the built environment, while the UK's Equality Act considers equal opportunities to access (we will review Canada's attitude below). She sees in these the difference between largely individualistic social environments and largely socialist ones. The matter of who must adapt, the impaired individuals, or those around them, remains the key question.
The medicine of disability:
Ruth O'Brien's Crippled Justice: the History of Modern Disability Policy in the Workplace discusses in great detail the effects of psychological understandings of people with disabilities in the U.S., and contrasts them with those in the U.K., mostly since WWII; and the results of court decisions since then (as of 2001). It is a history of ambivalence between whether disability is something to be treated in the body part affected and the person sent on to rehabilitation and thence some form of work; or whether the effect upon the "whole man" must be considered, including society's attitude toward the person and the person's self-image. The medical approach is ambivalent between how much the person should adapt to the environment, and how much the environment to the person. There are fascinating details about psychological interpretations which held that being disabled makes a person resentful and angry, which attitudes get in the way of being absorbed into normal life. Essentially it is a history of ambivalence: must an employer "make the doorway ever wider" or must the person get smaller, or come via the freight entrance. Is it that the person just can't do the job in the same way as others, or that the employer declines to arrange the work appropriately? One can be insufficiently disabled to qualify for unemployment subsidies, and at the same time too disabled to be gainfully employed. Employers often do not understand that a person's anger may be justified and the work problems should be mitigated (notwithstanding Ford).
In the late 1970s, people with disabilities in Canada began to organize and challenge the then dominant view of disability as a medical defect or pathological limitation. The disability rights movement rejected the medical model of disability and argued that it was social barriers and prejudices which created disabilities. The goal of the movement was to secure the right of persons with disabilities to self-determination, individual autonomy, and the opportunity to participate in society as full and equal citizens. At the heart of the disability rights movement was the desire to transform disability from a concept of charity to a concept of rights.
The emergence of the disability rights movement coincided with the introduction of human rights legislation in Canada - and particularly the gradual inclusion of physical and mental disability as prohibited grounds of discrimination. The principles of anti-discrimination established by human rights legislation formed a basis for analysing and understanding the social, political and economic inequities experienced by persons with disabilities, both as individuals and as a group. Under a human rights analysis, the focus shifted from ascribing fault to individual limitations, to recognizing the harmful effects caused by social structures and institutions on persons with disabilities. This analysis affirmed that the systematic exclusion, segregation and isolation of persons with disabilities from mainstream society occur primarily because of discriminatory attitudes and systemic barriers. The shift to a rights-based analysis therefore, represents a profound and decisive turning point in the history of persons with disabilities. In 1980, people with disabilities understood that, to nurture this transformation, a legal foundation consisting of both constitutional recognition and human rights legislation was necessary.
As late as January 12, 1981, {Justice} Minister Chretien still maintained that it was not appropriate to include the ground of disability in the Charter {of Rights and Freedoms}. COPOH and other disability groups did not give up but continued to apply pressure wherever possible.30 And then on Wednesday, January 28, 1981, without warning, the ground shifted and the Parliamentary Committee unanimously accepted an amendment to the Charter which, at long last, included the ground of "physical or mental disability" in section 15, the equality guarantee.31
No one seems to know for certain exactly what sparked the Committee to make this eleventh hour decision. Clearly, much of the credit must be attributed to the hard work of the members of the Obstacles Committee who were relentless in their efforts to convince their political colleagues to accept the amendment.
…substantive policy and legislative complexities which have subsequently plagued disability rights, securing inclusion in the Charter could be construed as a simple process matter; who was in and who was out.
So there is the law. Yet the situation today is that the Ontario Disability Support Program provides a maximum of $1,368 a month for basic needs and shelter for a single person, and possibly additional money for transportation to medical appointments, and other medical expenses (if providers agree to accept ODSP as the payer) and more for a spouse or child. A new report released this morning https://www.ices.on.ca/publications/research-reports/report-on-the-pregnancy-outcomes-and-health-care-experiences-of-people-with-disabilities/ says that one in eight pregnant people in Ontario have disabilities, but face a lack of accessible care. This is insufficient for a decent life. The new federal disability support payment will be $200 per month beginning two years from now, and that amount may be subject to clawbacks by provinces.
I give Dr. Phillpot the final word:
More recently, I've come to think that the term vulnerable does not reflect the people to whom it is attached, but rather the category where we, as a society, have placed them. We use the term vulnerable as a euphemism for people whose voices we've not made the effort to hear.
…we should only use the word vulnerable as a modifier, as in made vulnerable.
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