A contribution towards a possible re-invigoration of our understanding of the social model of disability’s potential

Abstract

There has been published work in Disability & Society showing that the social model of disability may be re-invigorated if its emphasis reflects current social conditions and their specific context and if relevant questions are applied to specific impairment labels by each country. In this paper, I further address the issue of terminologies, concerning the notions of impairment, disability, the social model, as well as some terms with negative connotations surrounding these notions. I argue that, in attempting to detangle part of language’s complexity, it may be important to re-focus on the dynamic nature of relevant chameleon-like terminologies and their impact on attitudes towards disability, which seem to be prolonged. This scope, when coupled to a clearer focus on a materialist approach to disability, may act as a catalyst towards a re-invigoration of our understanding of the social model’s potential.

Points of interest

• This article looks into the issue of terminologies surrounding the notions of impairment, disability and the social model of disability.

• The article is written by an intellectually disabled woman who is committed to the social model of disability.

• Such discussions are important because the nature of the terminologies surrounding disability is often masked. As such, it affects attitudes toward disability.

• The materialist approach to disability is suggested to be at the heart of such discussions.

• When disabled people themselves raise such discussions, they act as catalysts towards a re-invigoration of our understanding of the social model of disability’s potential.

Keywords:

• Social model of disability
• impairment
• disability
• terminologies
• attitudes
• materialist approach

Introduction

Levitt (2017) argues that the social model of disability may be re-invigorated if its emphasis reflects current social conditions and their specific geographical context. Woods (2017), in his response to Levitt, maintains that these questions could be applied to specific impairment labels by each country. One of the questions Levitt (2017) asks and promotes for further discussion is

Which aspects of the negative influence of society on disability (other than barriers to inclusion) are particularly worth focusing on and how can these be effectively addressed? (Levitt 2017, 4).

To this question Woods (2017) replies, especially concerning the autism label, that the most important social barrier to focus on is its negative discourse and language. I find both Levitt’s and Woods’ contributions to be very important and timely.

In this paper I attempt to further elaborate on some of the points raised in their discussion; I continue the discussion of the work published in Disability & Society by Levitt (2017) and Woods (2017), concerning the re-invigoration of the social model of disability. I draw on my background to further address the issue of academically pretentious terminology, concerning the notions of impairment, disability and the social model. Even though I am diagnosed-labelled as an autistic person (Asperger’s Syndrome), for the purpose of this paper I address the issue of terminology from a broader point of view. Unavoidably, however, my discussion is informed by what I understand to be my identity. In this paper I argue that in attempting to detangle part of language’s complexity, it may be important to re-focus on the dynamic nature of relevant chameleon-like terminologies and their impact on attitudes towards disability. This scope, when coupled to a clearer focus on a materialist approach to disability, may act as a catalyst towards a re-invigoration of our understanding of the social model’s potential.

Background

In the following two sections, I draw on my background to offer my critique of academically pretentious and jargon-ridden terminology. The focus on my background is used as an attempt to clarify the conditions which have improved my current understandings. As a valid ethnographic method, a certain extent of ‘exposure’ of an author is necessary as it offers a clearer understanding of the writer’s subjective points of view.

In the second edition of Michael Oliver’s book Understanding Disability: From Theory to Practice, the author included a chapter that was originally given as a keynote address at the International Special Education Conference ‘Including the Excluded’, held in 2000. As Oliver admits:

… when I came back to this paper after several years, I was surprised that much of the terminology used was academically pretentious. So I have changed some of the language and terminology in order to clarify my argument. I have resisted the temptation to change the title, however, in order to demonstrate how pretentious academics can be sometimes. (Oliver 2009, 71)

The title Oliver is referring to is ‘Decoupling education policy from the economy in late capitalist societies: some implications for special education’ (ibid, 71). As Oliver states, since Disability Studies have a key role in promoting an inclusive society, then it’s a shame that published work often ‘tends to exclude rather than include non-academics’ (ibid, 179).

I have recently completed my PhD studies in Inclusive Education and I am committed to the social model of disability despite its numerous critiques (Berghs et al. 2019; Boxall 2018; Goodley 2016; Shakespeare 2006; Terzi 2004; Thomas 2004; Shakespeare and Watson 2002). I do not take an anti-intellectual stance concerning Disability Studies, but I nevertheless still struggle with my written as well as oral communication skills. In English, even more so. In this section, I will attempt to summarise my background and to justify the reason I chose to problematise on the issue of terminology surrounding disability. I will not refer to myself out of arrogance, but rather to clarify what informs my points of view and thus as a means to be fair to those who might want to engage with my work and/or respond with their thoughts. I am not sure if there is such a thing as “too much exposure” for an author but, as a committed ethnographer, I consider it crucial to share information which may be helpful for readers to understand my scope. Moreover, and especially regarding the contribution to Disability Studies, I find it very helpful when I read work from authors who explain, ideally upfront, whether they engage with the issue of disability as disabled people, as their allies etc. Every contribution may potentially be useful, as long as one clarifies the context which informs it.

I started my postgraduate studies in Disability Studies in 2009, as an early career Physics teacher. Looking back, I did so because I found some teaching practices concerning disabled students at the school where I was working to be offensive, therefore I wanted to learn more on how I can be a better teacher for all my students. Another equally important reason, however, was because although back then I was not diagnosed-labelled with Asperger’s Syndrome, I have been disabled for as long as I remember, I suspect because of certain behaviours which people in my surroundings often found peculiar. During a difficult period in my life, I visited some therapists. I can clearly recall an incident during my first -and last- visit to a so called expert therapist, who reprimanded and advised me, in what I found to be too strict of a tone, to stop asking so many questions, to stop being obsessed with nomenclature and to just describe my feelings without trying to give names to them. For me, socially interacting with a stranger and communicating what is in my mind takes courage and is already hard enough. Without a relevant nomenclature, I may never be able to do so. I do not know if it is, at least to some parts, due to my personal Aspie traits that I find words and their meanings to be so important to problematise on and try to clarify, nevertheless due to my difficulties in social interactions, I regularly do so in order to find meaningful ways to understand the world around me, to express my thoughts and/or communicate effectively with people. I certainly did not mean to annoy this therapist. I only tried to communicate effectively. The above are, to a large degree, the reasons I chose to focus on the issue of terminology surrounding disability.

In this context, it was a great relief to read Oliver’s statement since, if a leading scholar of Disability Studies, with an unprecedented modesty and frankness is so clearly against the use of pretentious terminology, then I may not have to worry so much about having to use terminology that is too difficult for me to handle. Furthermore, a large part of my educational background has been within a context formed by a unique supervisor who chooses not to use pretentious terminology. An indicative example is a title she chose for a book chapter (both first and forthcoming second edition) on research methodology of a large scale research; the title is kept relatively brief and contains the simple and straight forward phrase “How did I do it?” (Phtiaka 2019, 1997). I can confirm that I have greatly benefited from reading it because I was able to engage with it; terminology can indeed be empowering when it is not disabling. Yet, Phtiaka’s and Oliver’s statements seem to have even deeper and serious implications.

(Why) is pretentious terminology necessary? To whom?

Recently, I was reading a book as well as an article published in a leading international journal, both written by Dr. Anastasia Liasidou, a Disability Studies academic (Liasidou 2012, 2008). I struggled with what I found to be a complex vocabulary. Partly this was, I suspect, due to my difficulties with the English language. However, I have read a number of articles written in English by a number of other scholars and found their writing to be more readable and thus engaging. What follows is a brief overview of some queries formed while attempting to engage with an article written by this scholar. I do not wish to undermine this admittedly prominent scholar’s work in any way, but rather I engage with it as an example which highlights the possible difficulties that some people may face while trying to engage with such scholarly work.

What is puzzling for me, is that in her article Critical discourse analysis and inclusive educational policies: the power to exclude, Liasidou (2008) refers to a paper by Barton (2005) regarding the contribution of research to the empowerment and inclusion of disabled people. Liasidou rightly considers Barton’s reference to the barrier formed by jargon-ridden work, and relates it to the fact that Critical Discourse Analysis occasionally has a jargon-driven nature. She then offers some admittedly valuable insights as to the necessity to disseminate Critical Discourse Analysis work beyond academia, namely to key governmental policymakers, other policy activists, researchers, as well as teachers, in order to adopt a more self-reflective stance to their own assumptions. Considering the above, it is puzzling to me that the author does not extend this necessity beyond academia or professionals, to other disabled or non-disabled readers of her work. I, as an example of a disabled reader who is committed to the social model of disability, honestly want to reflect on her work, but how can I do so if I cannot wholly engage to it because of the complex vocabulary? Can an important work that deconstructs policymaking (which has the power to exclude), act as a barrier to inclusion?

In much the same way, other scholars in Disability Studies elaborate on the issue of complex terminology. Swain, for example, admits that he seeks a simplification of Disability Studies and that he ‘just want(s) to understand’ (in Oliver 2009, 503). Shakespeare (1993, 96) advocated against the ‘perception that it is necessary to be complex and intellectually trendy in order to be accepted… as Einstein once said, Make everything as simple as possible. But not simpler … ’. Barton (2005) argues, while citing Oliver, that research which seeks to empower disabled people should not be a gift of the few who have it to those who do not. Barton continues, asserting that research should be about ‘people empowering themselves and using the knowledge and the ‘expertise’ of the researcher towards this end’ (ibid, 318). Therefore the results of a research that seeks to build a more inclusive education policymaking, should be accessible not only to (disabled or non-disabled) policymakers, policy activists, researchers, teachers or to Disability Studies students who are willing to struggle with their English and have a dictionary at hand at all times, but first and foremost, to disabled people ‘on the street’ (Oliver and Barton 2000, 8) and to ‘much more widely than only to disability professionals in developed countries’ (Levitt 2017, 591). The complexity of the issue under consideration is vividly expressed by Oliver and Barton (2000, 7-8):

In trying to speak to two communities, the academy and disabled people, disability studies faces the difficult task of producing work that the disabled person on the street will understand as well as trying to satisfy the academy of its academic credentials… To understand the complexities of the process of disablement in society is difficult enough; to write clearly about them is even more so. But it is not only that disability studies has sometimes failed in this task but also that disabled people have not always been prepared to put in the necessary intellectual work to understand their own situations. The gradual establishing of teaching programmes in disability studies, especially where they actively encourage disabled people to participate fully has begun, at least to address this issue.

When I recently met a prominent academic in the field I asked for her advice on how I could improve my English. I also expressed my worries as to whether complex terminology might be an obstacle to the wider dissemination of an academic’s work, especially to non-academics, whether disabled or not. My question stems from the fact that, although I may not wish to do so, I myself may be accused of using difficult terminology. The academic responded that difficult terminology has to be used if you want to have your work published. Her answer made me realise that I may never have any of my work published, if I consider the fact that I cannot write in such a complex way, maybe with the exception of some words originating from my native Greek language, with the hope that they may sound pompous enough to get my work published. Yet, I also realised that even if I struggle so as to really improve my English in the future, I might never want to publish anything that contains too complex terminology, simply because it would not reflect my real thoughts; it would be something used on purpose with the hope that it may cause enough awe so as to get it published.

Secondly, in the same way that I may now try to understand a difficult, for me at least, article, there might be people, e.g. my adolescent students, who may choose to read my work in the future, whose English is not very good. Constructing this kind of disabling barrier through my work even for a small group of readers that I want to problematise on disability related issues, and indeed on purpose, is something I would never do, even if that may be equivalent to decelerated publishing prospects for my work. I am nevertheless self –critical and I recognise that this danger may be present in my work too, as I find nomenclature and the meanings behind words to be very important. I want to problematise and ask, even if it is merely in a theoretical way, how can an author avoid this danger? In this context, what follows is an outline of some issues that I consider important to be discussed and critically reflected upon. This analysis reflects my current understandings and by no means is it authoritative or without limitations. I just want to understand, as well as attempt to contribute to these issues’ further discussion. I find my contribution to be simple, but I will struggle for it not to be simplistic.

Terminology and its dynamic nature

In the following two sections, I focus on the dynamic nature of terminologies concerning disability. I first expand on disability-first and person-first language to argue that the power of language is crucial and should never be underestimated. As far as Disability Studies researchers is concerned, I suggest that it is important to take this aspect into full consideration in any study which tries to reflect on and communicate important ideas. In addition, I argue that it might be beneficial if authors also focused not only on acknowledging their own background, but also their own dilemmas and difficulties in relation to the language they use in order to describe and analyse concepts related to the issues they engage with. I then turn to the materialist approach to disability to highlight the dynamic nature of disability related terminologies; as an example, I suggest that the concept of disability cannot be defined in non- or pre-capitalist societies.

I am not sure whether it is the lack of a clear terminology which blurs the meaning of complex concepts and phenomena or if it is at the same time an inherent characteristic of terminology to be unclear and inadequate to describe complex concepts and phenomena no matter the richness of discourse surrounding them. However, I will attempt to further engage with the issue below, by converging to the terms of impairment, disability and the social model.

Stiker (1999, 1), in his book A History of Disability, mentioned, in the introduction, that ‘the issue of responsibility is… implicated in the study of disability. People struck by disability and their circle of family and friends, are among us…’ (my emphases), thus clarifying, from the very first page of the book, his approach to disability: that of duty of some who identify themselves as superior, to other people labelled as inferior. Could we suggest that such terminology may be now excused on the grounds that it reflected other times? Could we call for a modification to be made, on the grounds that in 1999 the social model of disability did exist and had already meaningfully influenced disabled people’s lives? On similar grounds, after all, was the title of this journal changed, in 1994, from Disability, Handicap & Society to Disability & Society. Or could we argue that a contribution by an author who is not British may be excused, on the grounds that he has probably been more familiar with another context, whereas the social model has historically been useful mainly in the United Kingdom?

The power of language is crucial and should never be underestimated. As far as Disability Studies researchers is concerned, I believe that it is important to take this aspect into full consideration in any study which tries to reflect on and communicate important ideas. In addition, it might be beneficial if scholars also focused not only on acknowledging their own background, but also their own dilemmas and difficulties in relation to the language they use in order to describe and analyse concepts related to the issues they engage with. As Kneller lucidly put it, it is only ‘when we know the true possibilities of language, (that) we shall begin to communicate effectively’ (1966/2004, 116). Within this context, the dynamic nature of terminology, in both spatial and temporal terms, must also be taken into consideration when attempting to detangle part of its complexity. In what will follow I engage with examples which highlight what are, to me, parts of this complexity.

I use disability-first language (‘disabled person’) rather than person-first language (‘person with disabilities’) in order to engage with the subjects I raise in this paper. Gabel (2001) maintains that disability-first language is used as a chosen identity of disabled people, denoting pride, or ‘to represent the power of the social consequences of particular ways of being’ (ibid, 32), that is, as a symbol of their being discriminated against and oppressed. Person-first language is used as a critique to those who consider disabled people less (or more) than human, i.e. it stresses the fact that ‘people with disabilities’ are first and foremost human (ibid). Disabled people are often treated as less than human (Barton 1986), therefore in such a context person-first language may be important and useful in stressing first and foremost the human value. On the one hand, one could argue that such a statement is now outdated since attitudes towards disabled people have changed for the better - to a large part due to the impact of the social model of disability. On the other hand, and in light of Levitt’s (2017) and Woods’ (2017) contributions, one may object to this by asking, where has it nowadays changed? For which labels?

For long I used to believe that the need to stress the fact that a human is indeed human seems unnecessary, until, during an ethnographic research with adolescents at a Cypriot VET school, a student mentioned that he wants to ‘give up trying’ because ‘the Ministry of Education considers us to be numbers; I am not a number’!’ (personal communication, May 4, 2015, translated from Greek-Cypriot dialect). Despite that, I can readily relate to Oliver and Barnes (2012, 6) comment that ‘(t)o accept the label ‘people with disabilities’ is to accept that disability is an individual rather than a social problem’. Previously in this paper I used disability first language to express that I am an intellectually disabled person; I use disability-first language to denote pride in my identity. However, I admit that I still find it confusing when I want to communicate effectively with people, as I usually have to say “I am a person with Asperger’s Syndrome” for most people to understand. I do not like the negative connotations associated with the term ‘with’ and ‘syndrome’. I prefer saying that ‘I am an Aspie’, in a similar way that a Deaf person may describe their identity and denote pride in their community, but not everyone can relate to the term Aspie. I once got the spatial related response ‘is that place in Europe?’. I usually explain that my mind is differently wired, although some people’s responses and even prolonged attitudes, give me the impression that to their ears the term ‘wired’ may sound as ‘weird’. Terms can never be simple. Nor attitudes.

The materialist approach to disability, in relation to relevant terminologies

Oliver and Barnes (2012) argue that it was the rise of capitalism which turned institutions into mechanisms of social control:

… [disability] is about nothing more complicated than a clear focus on the economic, environmental and cultural barriers encountered by people who are viewed by others as having some form of impairment – whether physical, mental or intellectual… [There are ways] in which both impairment and disability are ‘produced’ as individual and medical problems within capitalist society (ibid, 12-13).

The importance of the materialist approach to disability has been famously vividly expressed by Finkelstein (1981, 2–3), who also elaborated on these issues in the past, and maintained that:

The physically impaired people living in early capitalism were just as crippled by capitalist production using increasingly efficient machinery, as they were by the physical condition of their bodies. The cripples of early capitalist society started parting company with the cripples of feudal society and the social impediment to integrated community living became a small component together with the physical impairment component that went into making the new cripple. It took the Industrial Revolution to give the machinery of production the decisive push which removed crippled people from social intercourse and transformed them into disabled people.

A critique to Finkelstein’s use of the word crippled might be, to some, a valid point to start with. However, relevant criticisms are often also made on the grounds that such a framework does not offer substantial ‘analysis of disability in non- or pre-capitalist societies’ (Barnes and Mercer 2010, 84). For example, Borsay (1998) critiqued the view that disability is a product of industrial capitalism, and argued that it already existed during the decay of feudalism and rise of mercantilism. Metzler (2013, 10) goes even further, to argue that the concept of disability ‘already applied to certainly the later Middle Ages if not earlier’.

As I understand it, the link between disability and the rise of capitalism is tight, therefore it is confusing for me to engage with analyses of disability in non- or pre-capitalist societies (as opposed to forms of discrimination and/or exclusion), on the grounds that when disability is accepted as being a notion closely related to the rise of capitalism, then it does not make sense to talk about its characteristics before the rise of capitalism. Even so, I hold that an analysis of forms of discrimination and/or exclusion in different times and contexts (or of disability, for those who see its nature differently) is of crucial importance, and is offered by the work of scholars such as Gleeson (1999) and Stiker (1999). I suggest that relevant work may be useful in clarifying and further understanding the dynamic nature of certain terminologies and the way certain prejudicial meanings evolve and mask themselves, thus catalysing certain insistent attitudes towards disability. Vlachou (1995) has cited Abberley to talk about the ‘stickability’ of discourse and of definitions, as being strongly connected to hegemony’s ideological positions. Such discussions may need to be re-invigorated.

How terminology affects attitudes, and vice versa

In this section, I expand on the characteristics of attitudes surrounding disability to describe them as being persistent and difficult to be changed. I therefore suggest that critiques against the social model of disability as being outdated are paradoxical, as it is the very model which has managed, as a parallel gain to its more practical focus, to attack and catalyse the outdating of offensive attitudes.

Attitudes (as settled points of view) can often be characterised as being prolonged and systemic. This has, for example, been analysed by Scott (1990) concerning structures of domination and comparable patterns of resistance and by Willis (1981), concerning both patterns of resistance and conformism. Levitt (2017, 589-591) rightly maintains that

in the past three decades the United Kingdom’s societal attitudes to disabled people and disability have changed substantially…The social model…can also be addressed to non-professionals, to disabled people and to other geographical regions in which it has particular potential to change attitudes towards disability (my emphases).

Concerning the changing potential of attitudes, what I find to be a paradox is critiques (Shakespeare 2006; Terzi 2004; Thomas 2004; Shakespeare and Watson 2002) against the very model which has managed, as a parallel gain to its more practical focus, to attack and catalyse the outdating of offensive attitudes, as now being outdated itself; I find it to be a paradox since, as I see it, attitudes are by definition persistent and, as such, it may be tricky to superficially bestow either them, the social model, the existing material interactions or the existing social forces of hegemonic control with an anachronistic (old-fashioned) label.

As previously analysed, terminology surrounding attitudes often has a dynamic as opposed to a static nature and seemingly due to chameleon-like characteristics can often mask itself under new, modern, properist notions. Coining new words is easy. But what about the meanings attached to them? Do they also undergo a metamorphosis (transformation)? In this context, on what grounds is the social model of disability outdated, wrong and/or in need for a re-invigoration? Does it need a re-invigoration due to the indisputable fact that in certain contexts the lives of disabled people have changed for the better? Did attitudes also change for the better? To what degree? Do certain prejudicial meanings stick and hide themselves under new notions, thus perpetuating certain negative attitudes? In conclusion, what I attempt to show in this paper is that discussions of the complex and dynamic nature of language, terminology and attitudes surrounding disability could re-invigorate our understanding of the potential of the social model of disability and of our subsequent actions towards a continuation of the emancipation of the voices and the lives of disabled people, especially when such discussions are coupled to what I see as the very core of the model, i.e. its focus on a materialist approach.

The notions of impairment, disability and the social model

In this section, I attempt to elaborate specifically on some aspects of the complexity surrounding the notions of impairment, disability, the social model, as well as of terms with negative connotations. Through these examples, I maintain that in attempting to detangle part of their complexity, there is a need for a clearer focus on relevant dynamic and chameleon-like terminologies surrounding these notions, as well as their effect on (or how they are affected by) attitudes concerning disability. I will also suggest that the above, when coupled to a clearer focus on a materialist approach to disability, may act as a catalyst towards the re-invigoration of our understanding of the potential of the social model of disability.

In the context of Disability Studies the term ‘impairment’ is often used to denote functional limitations, which might or might not be obvious, as well as might be of biological origin (Bolt 2010), without excluding the possibility of being both materially and culturally determined. According to Barnes (2012) and Oliver and Barnes (2012), some characteristics such as baldness might not impede a person’s functional ability, but may have important negative implications in particular social contexts, therefore what constitutes an impairment, can be both materially and culturally determined. Often, at least in the social context that I am familiar with, responses such as ‘she/he is bald’, or ‘she/he has blemishes’, or ‘she/he has Asperger’s Syndrome’ (i.e. concerning both bodily or intellectual characteristics), impose a label to the person, as well as all kinds of assumptions about this person’s functional abilities and/or human value. For example, Zafiropoulos (2001) mentions that in Greece, despite the aesthetic standards favoring the tall, there is still a saying stating the assumption that someone who is tall, is stupid. Could this assumption still affect attitudes towards tall people nowadays?

Considering the use of unacceptable terminology, either offensive and/or depersonalising, it has historically been attacked by disabled people (Oliver and Barnes 2012). Seeing the glass half full, we may like to believe that the use of such terminology as well as relevant attitudes has followed the same fate as that of the dinosaurs. However, we may also benefit from discussing the chameleon-like characteristics of such terminology, which may catalyse the perpetuation of certain negative connotations surrounding this terminology and therefore the prolongation of certain attitudes. I argue that rather than trying to avoid using such terminology altogether, or, even worse, masking it, we could identify, confront and attack it.

Ingstad (2001), however, stresses that there is not always a straightforward link between someone’s discourse on their attitudes and how they actually act. All authors must be self-critical and address this issue when writing. Anyone who does not take an anti-intellectual stance in Disability Studies must, in my opinion, always attempt to dig many layers below the surface of the terms she/he engages with, in order to unravel their true potential. As Bolt (2003, 6) lucidly explains (especially concerning blindness, but I hope that he will not oppose to the fact that I am generalising it),

(t)here is an empowering argument for the appropriation of terminology that is inaccurate but commonplace, while coinage of a new term would enable… individuals to relinquish the age-old burden of misrepresentation. Before declaring the latter position preferable, consideration should be given to Kirtley's point that new terminology is ‘not likely to be effective unless such attitudes have already improved, for without this change, the older, prejudicial meanings would simply become reattached to the liberalized vocabulary'… This is true, but so too is the unlikelihood that attitudes will improve through the use of terminology to which prejudicial meanings are inherent.

I this light, Woods (2017) maintains that having a blanket Autism Spectrum label might help to avoid the negative stereotypes of the discourse surrounding autism. Would that really be effective, or will the older, negative meanings mask themselves under the new terminology? In any case, the fact that not only people, but often words themselves are labelled, must be brought back in the agenda for further consideration and discussion.

Concerning the term disability, it is used within the social model context to denote social restrictions imposed on top of impairments and not as a result of impairments, and to stress the fact that the causal link between impairment and disability is broken (Bolt 2003). According to Finkelstein (2007, 2), ‘it is society which disables physically impaired people. Disability is something imposed on top of our impairments’. As Bolt (2010, 2) argues,

A person may be impaired for many reasons, but it is only by society that he or she is disabled. For example, the inability to walk is an impairment, but the inability to enter a building because the entrance is at the top of a flight of steps is a disability. In other words, as Colin Barnes and Geof Mercer have pointed out, the radical social model challenges the idea that disability is an inescapable biological destiny…; it draws the distinction between biological impairment and social disability.

Also Oliver and Barnes (2012, 6) maintain that

(a)ll people with impairments experience disability as a social restriction, whether those restrictions occur as a consequence of inaccessible built environment, questionable notions of intelligence and social competence, the inability of the general population to use sign language, the lack of reading material in Braille or hostile public attitudes to people with non-visible conditions and impairments… In sum, people who have impairments have ‘disabilities’ thrust upon them by an unjust and uncaring society… Whilst impairment may be a human constant, disability is not and need not be.

Taking into account the above, it is often argued that since attitudes towards disabled people have changed, the social model of disability is outdated and/or needs to be re-invigorated (Oliver 2013). Levitt (2017) maintains that its emphasis should reflect current social conditions and their specific geographical context. In the specific context of Cyprus and Greece, as an example, unlike in the United Kingdom, research has indicated that the disability movements in both countries adopted a social model of disability after 2000 (Symeonidou 2019), and following the implementation of 113(I)/99 Law (Phtiaka 2006) specifically for Cyprus. According to this law, children with disabilities have the right to be educated along their non-disabled peers at the school of their locality. To date, the social model approach in local disability movements is anything but outdated. Still, their impact in policy development has not been consistent (Symeonidou 2019).

Levitt (2017) also adds that confining the scope of the social model to barriers to inclusion or its practical applications must be avoided. Indeed, a meticulous consideration of terminology and discourse may be helpful in re-invigorating our understanding of attitudes towards disability and the potential of the social model. For example, we may benefit if we ask questions such as, what do we mean when we suggest a re-invigoration of the model itself? What I find problematic in this expression is whether it may create a context where we merely discuss, whereas our responsibilities and actions may be displaced, diminished or not fully understood. Is it the model that needs re-invigoration to reflect current social conditions or does our understanding and discussion of current conditions and the attitudes and discourse around them need to be re-invigorated in order to better understand the model’s potential?

Conclusions and suggestions

Oliver (2009) has stated that academic terminology is often pretentious. Drawing on my background as an intellectually disabled woman who is committed to the social model of disability, as well as on examples of what I find to be academically pretentious or jargon-ridden work, I suggested that terminology can be empowering when it is not disabling. I do not exclude myself from the danger of using too complex terminology, even if I do not wish to do so, as I find nomenclature and meanings behind words to be very important. I am nevertheless self -critical and I want to problematise and ask through this paper, even if it is merely in a theoretical way, how can a writer avoid this danger? I suggested that in trying to address issues related to this, one must be ready to ‘expose’ themselves to the scientific community, in a way that may sound overly personal. In reality, however, it is already a valid method in Ethnography, which I believe may be useful when discussing disability related issues and it can be used as an attempt to set the context and the background which inform an author’s current views.

Converging to the terms of impairment, disability, the social model, as well as to notions with negative connotations surrounding these terms, and by critically examining disability-first language and person-first language, I showed that the power of language is crucial and I argued that it is important to take this aspect into full consideration in any study which tries to reflect on and communicate important ideas surrounding disability. The dynamic nature of these terms and notions, in both spatial and temporal terms, must also be taken into consideration when attempting to detangle part of their complexity. I argued that in attempting to detangle part of this complexity, there is a need for a clearer critique on relevant chameleon-like negative terminology surrounding these notions, as well as their effect on (or how they are affected by) prolonged attitudes concerning disability.

It is true that any approach to disability, as well as of terms closely related to it, is never straightforward. What is important, is that in each contribution the authors explicitly explain their own difficulties with certain terminology, their background, scope and the context which informs the way they use specific terminology, upfront, and try to critically engage with it by using a language that is simple enough for readers to meaningfully engage with. Reviewers of work in Disability Studies may ask authors to revise certain exaggerated key vocabulary or to provide parentheses or foot notes with synonyms and explanations for certain terminology. Journal editors may ask for an extra mandatory field at the beginning of each paper, in which the author will briefly clarify what background has informed their decision to problematise on specific concepts.

Indeed, a meticulous emphasis on terminology seems to be a crucial aspect for future relevant discussions and contributions. As a lifelong learner who is not willing to take an anti-intellectual stance in disability related matters, I attempted to explain my belief that Disability Studies may be benefited, if we reconsider a shift to a more materialist approach to disability as a context which will inform the understanding of the dynamic nature of relevant terminologies and attitudes. That way actions towards a more inclusive society may be catalysed. The dynamic and chameleon–like nature of terminologies seems to me to be at the heart of attempts to better understand the potential of the social model of disability in acting upon current barriers which create and/or construct both impairment and disability.

Oliver (2013 [in Levitt 2017, 589]) maintains that ‘(s)urely it is time to either re-invigorate the social model or replace it with something else. One thing is for sure; the talking has to stop.’ I agree that merely talking about the model has to stop. Meaningful actions within the context of this powerful tool are more than necessary, as long as they are informed. In my opinion the model, as a practical tool, as well as its heart, the materialist approach, are not faulty. It is rather our understanding of the complexity and the implications of terminologies and the attitudes surrounding it that may need to be re-discussed. It is such an awareness that seems to me that could lead to the re-invigoration of meaningful action towards a more inclusive society.

Acknowledgements

I am deeply indebted to my teachers Dr. Helen Phtiaka and Dr. Simoni Symeonidou, as well as to my critical friend Dr. Eleni Damianidou, for their ongoing help and support, and for believing in me; without their guidance, this work would not have been possible and I would still be immensely confused and identity-less.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).