On the moral bankruptcy of Aristotelian theory of tragedy and disability

On the moral bankruptcy of the personal tragedy theory:

Towards a Brechtian model of disability politics

I am frequently confronted with a question that I can no longer ignore. People often ask me whether or not having an acquired or congenital disability is worse. And sometimes they outright tell me that having an acquired disability is worse, since I never knew what it was like to walk; and, owing to this fact, I don’t know what I’m missing. Let’s tackle this on three fronts.

First, anyone with the political backbone will tell you that the personal tragedy theory of disease is not helpful. It simply causes the process of narcissistic disavowal in the able-bodied majority, allowing them to legitimate the systemic oppression of those with nonnormative abilities. I would find it repugnant to participate in this unjust arrangement of society by legitimating the personal tragedy model. I’m not going to deny that sometimes I’m pissed off at the vicissitudes of fortune, as is everyone, but I’m considerably more angry at the social inequality I experience on a macro and micro level. It is not nature that creates the problem of disability, people,, including myself, do, and it’s about time we start taking responsibility for it. God knows we fight against everything else God’s patently absurd impotence is responsible for. I have absolutely no patience for the sentimental claptrap that says disability is a meaningful experience. It isn’t. It’s terrible, since life can be terrible. If you make a meaning out of it, it is only through a tremendous act of will to survive and thrive. If we think that tragedies have value, we would also have to do some comically odious intellectual gymnastics to find some significance in the pandemics that ravage our world. This naïve romanticism limits our ability to fight disease effectively and look at the underlying social causes. Some people may want to live in a fantasy land of intrinsic justice, but I don’t.

Second, I did have an accident: it happened to be earlier, but if we are using a tragic model, it was still unfortunate. It’s true; I did not have the pleasure of normative ability, so I don’t know the extent of that privilege. By the same token, however, persons with acquired injuries have benefited from a system that privileges able-bodied approximations for some significant portion of their lives. Conversely, I have never had the luxury of profiting from that system of oppression. Even so, I DO have a conception of what able-bodiedness is like. Unfortunately, the ideal is everywhere we go. How could I not have a conception? How could I not feel loss, when virtually everyone around me, from early childhood to the present, has something I do not and makes that fact known constantly? Moreover, during crucial years of upbringing, unlike many persons with acquired impairments, I had to endure tremendous stigma and underestimation on account of my nonnormative ability. While oppression in the present is, indeed, caustic to self-development, tremendous stigma in childhood is devastating. No wonder then that people with congenital disabilities often have different ways of being in the world, and often appear less normal to the able-bodied majority — they have simply been oppressed longer. This is not a mark of ontological difference; it is a mark of unjust social privilege. To be sure, I have not survived a single catastrophic event, but my life can be interpreted as coping with catastrophe; and so too can most people’s. Why we single some people out as survivors and others not says more about us than the object of study. The rhetoric of survival is not ethically permissible. If a person gains credit only for surviving a disease like cancer or some kind of accident, it implies that this person is somehow more worthy of life than those who did not or that she is somehow innately more meritorious than those who experience greater difficulty.

Again, my point is not that one is worse than the other. Instead, it is important to illuminate that you can use whatever rhetorical strategies you like. The persuasive tactics people often use only have power because the congenitally impaired are constructed as fundamentally other. We are essentially, not accidentally, tragic. The only reason my disability is important is because of circumstances I did not control. I do not relish it; I am not proud of it, per se. I would happily fix it, if this were possible. I say this, even though I recognize that it is a vital part of my life. This does not mean I am bitter or that I hate myself. It simply means that I am a pragmatic person, who loves life and wants to experience it to the fullest.

Third, as undeniably unpleasant as my disability can be, it seems insignificant compared to the other problems that human beings around the planet face daily. In some small way, I am grateful because, at least in part, it assuages my guilt for being European, and, therewith, profiting from a system of exploitation that has no intrinsic legitimation. Even so, this does not exonerate my culpability in the system. It seems hypocritical to care excessively that I’m in a wheelchair, when we live in a world where it is commonplace for children to be blown to pieces. I’m not cynical; I’m a realist. God is not coming back; no one is going to save us, so it’s time we go fucking balls deep in the excrement of life. That’s our only  chance of making it get better. Things don’t get better without action. Wake up! 

All things are nothing next to our inevitable and complete that destruction. We need to stop fabricating meaning in misfortune. It is not healthy. And in the long run, it creates more misfortune. Manufacturing the category of congenital and acquired perpetuates the narcissistic fantasy that disability is something accidental to the human condition. I’m sorry to say it isn’t. You will be disabled. You will die. Eventually, very few people will remember your accomplishments, and all that will matter are those moments where you decided to help people in need, regardless of their ability. You did this because you understood them as creatures who experience suffering and are, thereby, worthy of concern. Think about that, for that’s a lot more productive than having me entertain this narcissistic question. When I meditate upon tragedy, it is useful to consider Brecht. He opposed the Aristotelian model of| purgation and relief. Instead, his model of tragedy encourages distance, which asks the audience to critically examine the circumstances that produced tragedy, thereby, becoming mobilized for political action. It’s time we repudiate Aristotle in favor of Brecht. Perhaps then people will see this as a nonsensical, as well as morally bankrupt, question.

The gay question and the rhetorical power of martyrology in human rights discourse

The Gay Question:

A Personal Reflection on My Sexuality As Embodied Religion

Problem for Reflection:

Though much has been written about the often acrimonious, though increasingly less so, intersection between Christianity and gay male identity in postindustrial society, little research has been done, especially within the field of religious studies, analyzing much of the Christian tropes that structure contemporary gay rights discourse. The following is a personal reflection on what I, as a white sis-gendered, Canadian male of relative prosperity, experience gayness as. Though not intended to be universal, or in any way to repudiate the insights afforded by queer theory, I have found that my personal reflection on this topic may reveal the underline martyrology that often structures the arguments of LGBTTIIAAPQQ rights advocates and their opponents. And I think this may suggest that we ought to cut the Gordian knot of persecution discourse, so as to advance the dialogue in a more productive direction. I extend my apologies for being rather heated in my discussion.

Positive Aspects

Though I can’t speak for all queer persons, my experience of being gay is something like this. To be gay is to live in a context where sexuality is an essential part of one’s identity, and the means by which one can create a subject position in the context of suffering. It is something that makes me so happy, I find it immensely rewarding, and of which I am very proud. Paradoxically, despite the fact that it has caused me excruciating pain, I consider it my best character trait, because it has help me develop all the other virtues I like about myself. I am happy to witness it in public, evangelize it, and — if necessary — I would freely choose martyrdom rather than renounce it. It is significant for me because of how I connect to the transcendent, and it is intimately married to my core beliefs.

 It’s about transforming the shame one experiences for homoerotic desire into an affirmation of the positivity of sex and the sanctity of love. As a political strategy, being gay is about removing certain oppressive power dynamics from sex and love, so that we can build a world that is more loving and more egalitarian. In this respect, it’s about turning “sexual deviance” into a positive ethical position. It is not an accidental part of who I am; it is an essential part of who I am, particularly in my ethical relationships with others and the transcendent.

 There is no Connor essence apart from it because it is impossible for me to imagine my subjectivity beyond the history that has shaped my life. Even when I tried to suppress it, it blossomed out of me like a lotus flower.  The truth about ourselves is revealed beyond our control. It seems to be disingenuous or against my nature to act any other way, and when I have done so it has led to destructive behavior with harmful consequences for me and those I love. Sometimes, though not always, I feel more fortunate because it allows me to see and understand different aspects of what it means to be human. It also makes me a better scholar because I have to practice self-doubt. Because I have experienced the pain of persecution, I am loath to cause suffering in others, and being gay has helped me develop a fascination with and acceptance of diversity. I feel I am less squeamish about sexuality and the body than a lot of my contemporaries because I’ve had to interrogate the Manichaean underpinnings of Occidental thought.

Being gay is linked to human flourishing. It can be conceived by many, including myself, as a particular way of life, encompassing many different and unique cultural forms, often not located in straight culture. It can even be a type of language. And it can be a way to build profoundly immoral or moral communal relationships with others. It can be a history as well as an aesthetic sensibility. This is not to say that, like everything else, it is not a product of historical accident. Just because a phenomenon is contingent, it does not follow that it is either completely malleable or meaningless. Life is not that simple!

 So long as it is not harmful to others, I want human beings to be happy, since there has been enough suffering in the world. For whatever reason, I am happiest when loved by men. I don’t seem to be able to live  as good of a life without male companionship. It inspires me to write poetry, compose essays, commit virtuous acts, endure physical pain, experienced trust, experience sexual desire, let go of fear, etc. As you know, I have a very strong platonic bias, so rather than complementarity, I value sameness, insofar as I long for a philosophic partner who I can also have sex with. I think sometimes, though not always, same-sex relationships can be more egalitarian and compassionate because there seems to be less masquerading. When I’m around men everything is in color; for everything makes sense to me. When I’m around women for too long, or I have to deny my sexual orientation,  a heavy fog comes over me. I love to touch men. I love to be near them. I like the way we smell, and I like the way we give hugs. I like the way we struggle with emotions. I like the way we feel, and I like our strength. I want to be with other men all the time. I think we can be the most beautiful things in creation, like walking works of art. Men are more complex than a philosophical puzzle”. I enjoy our candor, and sometimes even are socially constructed machismo, ability and aggression, if properly exercised. I enjoy the roughness and gentility of men. We men often don’t know ourselves, and it is the profoundest joy of my life to help men access emotions often denied them because of the way heteronormativity works.

Like anyone, I experience a lot of lust. Nevertheless, I desire to have sex with men because I want to give myself over completely to them, open myself to them, sacrifice myself for them, unite with them, let go with them, feel ecstasy with them, cry with them, be fragile with them, explore my flaws with them, know that I’m alive with them, and, most of all, fall asleep with them exhausted in my arms. I desire to live with them, so that I can sacrifice myself for them. I want to support them when they’re sick. I want to raise children with them. I want to volunteer with them. I want to be incorporated into their family. I want to make a home with them. I want to support them in their careers. I want them to help me understand the meaning of life. I want to share my secrets with them. I want to swim with them. I want to travel with them. I want to die with them holding my hand and I want them to remember me when I’m gone. I am grateful for the work that has been done, but there is still a lot to do.  Nonnormative ways of being in the world are not adequately cherished or understood by society. Gay men are not a monolith, and it is impossible to know “what gay men want”, but a good starting place is understanding them from where they are, even if they don’t conform to what others may deem acceptable.

Experience of Social Stigma

Being gay is never to take the process of recognition by others as human beings for granted. It is to identify consciously as a second-class citizen. It is like having a giant question-mark over one’s head all the time, especially when I grew up. Sometimes, as much as it can also be a very happy experience, it is like carrying around a giant millstone on one’s neck made up of rage and resentment at injustice; and you have to guard against turning suffering into a general desire for vengeance, because frequently you are not precisely sure who, if anyone, is your enemy. It is to live, consciously or not, in protest against the ghosts of moral horror and censoriousness conjured by the dying embers of sodom’s condemnation, even though you may not perform anal intercourse. It is to live partially outside the “general public”. Theologically speaking, it is often to be guilty until proven innocent.

 For me, homoerotic desire brought fear, isolation and confusion. For years I felt deceptive and untrustworthy, even though I wasn’t living much of a lie. You have to negotiate when to disclose and when not to, lest you be perceived as “promoting a gay agenda”. And you have to deal with the trauma of the quest for your humanity being considered an agenda. Some people find you to be a fascinating novelty, while others wish you would vanish; few people who are not like you understand you. You have to develop defense mechanisms, since you have been exposed to bigotry. You live in fear of violence, and so you learn to distance yourself from people, lest they hurt you. You are constantly aware of persecution, and willing to use the law to protect yourself because you feel attacked, outnumbered and outgunned. And you’re aware that many countries believe that your existence is the sign of Western decadence, even as you are also often portrayed as the sign of Original Sin.

If that fails, people claim that you contravene some pleasantly ahistorical Natural Law, and, if natural law does not fit the bill, they use evolutionary biology. These things are also used to enable well-intentioned heterosexuals to make you in their own image, a timeless idol of their conception of sexuality and gender. Often, of course, they understand neither; for there is complete ignorance about topics that are meaningful to you, including from healthcare professionals involved with your well-being. Moreover, there is less access to the services you require to keep you healthy, while you are also blamed for the spread of infection. There are fewer social supports for you, especially when you become elderly. If you ever need care, you will likely be dependent on persons from cultures where your existence is often viewed as abhorrent. And the irony of this, of course, is that you are the one who apparently makes so much of sexuality, while their unacknowledged fantasies about you does much more to support the current system of sexuality.

 You feel exhausted because you never know when you will have to defend yourself; or, if you are fortunate, when your family will have to defend you. As accepted as you may feel, from time to time, you probably feel guilty about disappointing your parents. And you care what people think, while you also have guilt because you are not supposed to care what other people think, always maintaining pride and strength, fitness and perfection. And you are supposed to be able to repel anything hateful that happens to you with a sassy and upbeat remark. And because of this pressure, you are more likely to have mental health issues, and have contemplated suicide.

 You don’t understand why society is the way it is, but you recognize that you are not part of the dominant group: most of the messages you see through media don’t reflect your experience. You feel constantly judged, and so you learn to control your behavior because what you experience as natural much of society deems mildly repugnant or inferior. You feel the need to justify your sexual orientation, since you have been made to feel like you have some sort of handicap. People often imply that everything you do either is a response to pride or shame. If you like something that fits with the stereotype of what gay people like, you are often mocked. But you are also mocked if you don’t conform to the stereotype. You are encouraged to integrate. You are told that you are equal, even though you don’t feel that way. No one acknowledges their uncomfortableness with what you do in private because those things are not considered essential to who you are. You have to struggle against disgust with your desires from yourself and society

.

You are aware of being part of the movement that allegedly fights against the weight of tradition. People say that you are indicative of innovation and decadence. You have few role models and you have to fashion them from a tradition that is constructed as excluding you. People who claim to love you sometimes believe in a God that would condemn you to an eternity of suffering for loving another man. This same God, apparently, created HIV for the same reason. And if you get HIV it’s your fault for being promiscuous.

Now with the advent of same-sex marriage, there is pressure to adopt an institution that has excluded you for millennia. Some people do not respect your way of doing things, or that there may be multiple and non-heteronormative ways to live a good life. And people who are supposed to accept you claim the moral high ground on account of their belief in a benevolent God. And you are expected to tolerate their barbaric, ignorant and irrational beliefs because they are sincerely held, though they come from a place of violence and hatred. The Bible becomes a weapon against you, and it acts as a sanctimonious shield blocking any charitable or sensible conversation. The public debate about “homosexual activity” seems to be endless, even though logically there should be no debate because no moral issue is at stake. Nevertheless, no matter what you do, there always seems to be another argument against you, a slightly different form, because some ideologue, who doesn’t know you, decides that it is appropriate to pronounce on what she thinks you do in the bedroom

Conclusion: Openness and Deep Equality

Though there is much I admire about those constructed as women, I could not form a successful romantic partnership  with one, while also being honest with her or myself; nor would chastening my desires excessively bring me to anything approaching the state of grace that is my best hope for a more meaningful life. To act in any other way than as a gay man would cause me to fight futilely and hopelessly against my best hope for redemption; and, in doing so, I would surrender all that that redemption has to offer to the world. That would be a rejection of grace. Moreover, it would constitute an apostasy every bit as serious and unethical as renouncing one’s faith under political pressure. I would rather experience perpetual torture than worship a God who would torture people for love or sex, and any person with a backbone ought to feel the same way. Fortunately, if there is a God, it is completely illogical to suppose that she/he is like that. Nor is it ethical for a human being to behave that way either.

So excepting any person, evil or good, straight or gay, conservative Christian or militant atheist, requires us to recognize the whole humanity in them already, and that they can achieve redemption and atonement from where they are, not where we want them to be. It is time to work for a better way forward, for the sake of everyone, since neither party is likely to disappear anytime soon. I hope that some Christians will begin to see the religious elements of being gay, and some gays will understand the Christian narratives even in seemingly secular gay rights struggles. I hope that we can unite under a common vocabulary, and not be like the people at Babel when we talk in court. I don’t know what Christians want, but, as hard as it may be, gays have to extend the olive branch and attempt to recognize their dignity, even though it may be unfathomable why they oppose as. Otherwise, we may “win” the fight with religiously motivated or secular opponents, but we run the risk of crucifying an essential component of our humanity in the process through recourse to the discourse of martyrdom and a Manichaean worldview. Though Christianity is to blame for much persecution, and the celebration of sexuality has contributed to the depreciation of certain forms of the Christian worldview, the problem is much wider than the mythology of the culture wars suggest. Let’s work for redemption, as opposed to persecution. This

Stop Para-Transpo Booking Policy Changes; Fight for Equal Access to Transit for All

Saturday, September 4, 2015

To whom it may concern:

            First, I would like to express my satisfaction with and gratitude for Para- Transpo. Despite its problems, I am a very satisfied customer. I recognize and appreciate everything every member of the team does to get me where I need to go, and I can honestly say that it is my favourite thing about living in Ottawa. Notwithstanding my praises, I am writing to express concerns in the matter of proposed changes to transit service delivery. There seems to be much confusion and rumour regarding what proposed changes are being considered and the extent to which this may or may not affect regular users. I was grateful to have the opportunity to fill out the customer survey, thanks to the accessibility measures that its designers provided; and it appears as though management is considering a variety of options. I, therefore, being a satisfied customer of goodwill, invite the reader of this letter to consider the following in any just deliberation about changes to the service.

            I am a person with quadriplegic Cerebral Palsy. This means that, among other things, I use a power-wheelchair and have difficulty navigating around the city, owing to an impaired sense of direction. Though I am physically able to take conventional transit (weather permitting), I choose not to because I am unable to secure my wheelchair with the safety belt independently, and bus drivers refused to help me with this task owing to time constraints. Were I to take the bus, therefore, it would not only be dangerous for me, it would also be dangerous for other passengers. In fact, one of the reasons I stopped taking conventional transit is that gravitational force propelled me across the bus several times, even though in all other respects I am properly positioned.

            I moved to Ottawa and have stayed here, against the betterment of my career, on account of is its undeniable accessibility. Though there is much work to be done, Ottawa is a world leader. Alternate forms of transportation are an essential part of that leadership role. I am 25 years old, and I use transit like any other 25-year-old would, regardless of ability. I visit friends; I go to bars; I work, I volunteer; I go to appointments; I attend religious services; and, most importantly for me, I attend school and participate in extracurricular activities. In short, as for anyone else, access to transportation is a crucial tool for the achievement of actualized personhood and participation in society as an equal citizen before the law. Indeed, the reason we have alternate forms of transportation is because courageous persons refused to accept inequality in the provision of public service. And this story is analogous to the example of Rosa Parks, who realized that discrimination in transit directed against African-Americans was not acceptable. Though ability equality requires more effort, in the sense of conscientious governmental action, it is no less laudable or legally mandated. The courts have consistently maintained a commitment to substantive equality in the area of disability rights; and this means that justice should outweigh costs to redress systemic inequality. Second-class citizenship on transportation should not be permitted, even in times of economic hardship. If society were to do this, we would run the risk of trivializing fundamental democratic principles for transitory monetary benefit.

            It is because of my commitment to such values that I am currently pursuing a doctorate, after which I desire to attend law school. To do this effectively I usually reserve a day in advance. It is not always possible to anticipate when I will have to travel to campus in order to attend a meeting and/or execute many of the other functions incumbent upon me as a teaching assistant and the researcher. Hence, any extension of the booking practice from its current form would severely impact my ability to do my job. It would also constitute a disproportionate burden anathema to the original intention of paratransit, which was the emancipation of the disabled.

            While I recognize that the service has grown and many people have difficulty accessing it; and I also recognize that I am just one person, my story is not wholly unique. It is no doubt important to prioritize medical appointments, and I recognize that every one of my desired leisure activities may not be accommodated for the sake of others. But surely a meaningful life such as I want to live, and, with hard work, am entitled to live, encompasses more than medical appointments. I am not a person defined by his physical challenges alone. I have goals which I need help to achieve. If liberalism promises me something to the effect of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” then five-day in-advance bookings or an overly stringent hierarchy of priority could impede this considerably. It is difficult enough to get a booking as it is, even when one has the privilege of calling at seven a.m. A system of advance bookings will likely make it impossible for anyone who requires a small measure of flexibility in scheduling to use the service, which already requires considerable patience and affability of clients in the face of unpredictability

            In a just society there would be greater money for alternate transit; unfortunately, we do not live there. Granting this fact, instead of changing booking policy, there should be greater restrictions placed on those eligible for paratransit, greater efforts to make conventional transit more accessible and an assessment of wages for drivers. It’s not a stretch of imagination to infer that the greater power of the driver’s union has meant the decline in unionized labour being employed by the city. My opinions are liable to accusations of self-interest. Here are, therefore, four reasons why I believe that they are philosophically defensible. In truth, I have no other choice but to take alternate transit, both because of neglectful snow removal practices and refusal of assistance on the part of conventional transit bus drivers. Conversely, some, though not most, riders may have a choice. Second, I am still in the prime of life, and, as such, I bear other responsibilities and aspirations. Many other users have had the enjoyment of regular transit and a regular life for decades, whereas this is my reality now and will continue to be in the future. Third, greater restrictions on alternate transit of whatever sort will inevitably lead to greater difficulty finding and keeping fruitful employment. We should be moving toward the goal of further participation, but what I hear of proposed changes will only mark a further retreat from that goal. Fourth, it is unjust to make either the disabled or the elderly bear the brunt of economic austerity or union politics. We bear enough social injustice as is: our lives do not require any more difficulties. Why should the disabled and the elderly experience these hardships, with ever-increasing transit expansion? There is no equity in that state of affairs.

            Doubtless, many will say that the needs of the many outweigh those of the few, but such utilitarian arguments are far less palatable when one is a member of the few asked to sacrifice his hard-won, and I hope someday to demonstrate by my betterment of society, properly exercised independence, liberty and equality before the law. As the reader deliberates about change in this sensitive topic, I humbly ask her/him to consider my story and arguments. Every time persons have sacrificed justice for expediency, they have been remembered with sadness and derision. The legacy of disabled people has been one of injustice with constant setbacks, in which able-bodied people and persons with disabilities alike have become apathetic to inequality. I hope my reader as he/she deliberates will be on the side of justice rather than apathy. Justice is everyone’s hope for the best life possible. Regardless of ability, it is everyone’s due. Booking restrictions of too stringent a kind are unjust; ergo, management should not pursue them, instead seeking other avenues for economizing  service

Sincerely,

ΚονῶρΣτῆλε

Connor Steele