The BBC's e-zine on disability issues, Ouch!, has been publicising a neat little project - "blogging against disability day", which is, yes, today, the 1st of May. (sorry for not posting some information about this sooner - but if anyone's reading this on the 1st of May and is keen to take part, go for it - hopefully you'll still be able to sign up your blog).

I have to admit I wasn't sure how to begin this little commentary, but since this blog often touches on the mass media, it seemed a good place to start. I was re-reading a really good piece on znet earlier by Alex Doherty, in which he makes a very important observation on racism: that, far from being something you can shake off via a simple process of reasoning, racism is something deeply entrenched in our collective psyche; the product, in fact, of a thousand messages in the dominant culture, with which we are bombarded every day. Denying that we too are the victims of the same process of enculturation is not only dishonest; it can be actively harmful. The only truly productive solution is "learning to feel" - acknowledging what the prevailing culture tells us about ourselves and others, the stereotypes and prejudices it subjects us to daily, and trying to work against them.

How does this relate to the issue of disability? One of the greatest harms mainstream culture produces, it seems to me, is in fostering our ideas of what constitutes normality, and of what constitutes deviation from that normality. As Marta Russell writes in one excellent article,

The concept of inferiority is rooted in the late 19th century social creation of "normality." "The normal" was used as a means of measuring, categorizing, and managing populations. It informed hegemony, ranking order by the directive of the constructed "norm." In turn, normality established the universal, unequivocal good and right from which social, economic, and political rights were granted -- rights being a means in liberal democratic societies of mitigating oppression.

Simultaneously the concept of normality equated with a belief in western progress. Eugenics was its obvious "scientific" progeny. Under the eugenic view, perfection was attainable; by eliminating the abnormal; the defective could be eradicated from humanity.

A little while ago I learnt that Dove, the leading purveyor of "cleansing and personal care" products, have just launched the "campaign for real beauty", including a "self-esteem fund", aiming (according to their website) "to educate girls and inspire women on a wider definition of beauty".

"Low self-esteem is a serious issue among girls", according to the campaign's website - indeed 92% of girls apparently "want to change at least one aspect of their appearance". Scandalously, Dove tells us, a recent UK survey found that, "6 out of 10 girls thought they'd "be happier if they were thinner.""

Why might this be? As the website points out, "Whether it's models that wear a size 2 or movie stars with exceptional curves, beauty pressures are everywhere. And when young girls find it hard to keep up, low self-esteem can take over and lead to introversion, a withdrawal from normal life, and a waste of potential"; "For too long, beauty has been defined by narrow, stifling stereotypes."

It would be difficult to disagree with that - but rather more interestingly, as a friend recently pointed out to me, Dove is owned by Unilever, also the owners of Lynx - which, as anyone familiar with the "Lynx effect" advertising campaign will know, is hardly a company to distance itself from manipulative "beauty pressures" and "stifling stereotypes". The genuinge level of commitment in Dove's faddish piece of corporate P.R., in other words, is essentially zero - and in a cultural environment absolutely awash with messages about how we need to look and behave to feel normal, Dove's campaign, presuming it even attempts to do anything substantive, is barely likely to make a dent.

So our idea of normality (indeed, a largely fictitious, unobtainable and self-serving idea of normality) is firmly entrenched by mainstream cultural output. And, unfortunately, if unsurprisingly, this stuff takes its toll on our all too malleable psyches. And it affects our attitude to the disabled every bit as much as towards those of a different race, gender, or sexual orientation. It is the reason behind the excrutiating little awkwardnesses, the patronising special treatment, and all the other oddities that tend to characterise the general attitude to the disabled, which are all easily observable on a day-to-day basis.

Damon Rose, in a recent article, describes some of this stuff as "little acts of degradation":

Do I imagine it or, when I go off to get a cup of coffee, is the voice of the person serving me just that little bit more smiley? Smilier than the voice given to the person before me? And why do I get called sweetheart? Not exactly malicious to call someone sweetheart is it? But what does it say about me and how I'm perceived by the shopkeeper? Does it matter?

Other little things include language. Lazy language. Blind drunk? Turning a blind eye? Didn't take a blind bit of notice? Should I be using these words too? Are they little acts of degradation? Certainly if one of these phrases slips out of someone's mouth while they're in the same room as me a pause occurs, you can hear their brains shift into gear, and they'll either apologise or move on hoping no one noticed. Does it bother me though? I'm not entirely sure.

Lennard J Davis writes on the same phenomenon, comparing it with earlier prejudices prevalent in the 1950s with regard to race and gender:

In those days, a good liberal could be counted on to say the following: "I feel sorry for X group." "I have one friend who is X, and I can tell you those people are good, solid citizens." And in the privacy of his or her own home might say, "Thank God I am not X" and of course "I wouldn't want my daughter to marry X." And then there was the awkwardness of meeting, talking, interacting. That is the real "tell." As many white people were (and still are) uncomfortable conversing with people of color -- or do so with the constant thought in their mind that the person with whom they are speaking is a "black" or a "Hispanic" or an "Asian" being.

In that sense, most so-called "normal" people do not feel comfortable talking with a person using a wheelchair, a quadriplegic, a Deaf person, a blind person, a person with mental retardation or a person who has been treated for serious mental problems, someone who has cerebral palsy, who is spastic, and so on. That level of comfort one has with normals just isn't there. There will be the hesitancy about making eye contact, the desire to look with the simultaneous avoidance of looking. That behavior alone should tell anyone that the relations between people with disabilities and nondisabled is a problematic and fraught one. Indeed, for most people, it is a relationship based on ignorance and liberal notions of sympathy and pity. In other words, to put the matter bluntly, it is the relation between an oppressor group and an oppressed group.

The kind of reaction to disability Davis describes is all too easily recognisable - it is certainly something I recognise in my own behaviour.

What do we do about it? The first step is surely to recognise that, just like racism, sexism, homophobia, or other prejudices, disablism is about more than just conscious attitude - it is not something one can wish away through rational or moral reasoning. Unfortunately, like these other forms of prejudice, it is insidious, ingrained, and affects us on a deeper level. On a personal level, then, we can work to try and change ourselves - not a simple task, but also far from impossible.

More broadly, we have to create cultural institutions that foster human values; values thoroughly in opposition to the anti-human ones promoted by advertisers, the cult of celebrity, and all the other cultural products which dazzle us with harmful conceptions of what it means to be "normal". Again, not a simplistic or easy task. One passage I am reminded of is Noam Chomsky's description of the history of the U.S. labor movement, and some of the barriers it managed to break down in the course of its struggles:

"... when people were really working together organizing, that overcame the isolation. In fact it even overcame things like racism and sexism to a great extent. ... And also, women were running all sorts of things too, a lot of the sexism was broken down as well. And that's what tends to happen when people join together in common struggles. ... A lot of the unpleasant aspects of life disappear, and you can compensate for them, in the course of some kind of common struggle. ...

So the best answer, I suspect, is just the same as for anything else - we have to develop stable popular organizations, and a culture of concern, and commitment, and activism, and solidarity, which can help to sustain us in these struggles, and which can help break down some of the barriers that have been set up to divide and distract us." (Chomsky, Understanding Power (Vintage, 2003), pp. 213-214)

Perhaps one of the ways in which institutions can promote human values, then, is if they are human-scale. If we want to counteract the mainstream culture of normalcy, experience suggests that alternative forms of culture, co-operation and community which spring from the bottom up can potentially help break down culturally-ingrained forms of prejudice.

There's my two cents (with not a little help from other, much better writers and thinkers). I hope, at least, it'll prove to be a bit of food for thought.