How “disabled” became an insult – and why those affected are calling themselves that again

“I describe myself as disabled,” says Vanessa Grand from Valais indifferently. She has been in a wheelchair all her life because of the bone disease. Werner Ruch from the Linth region, who is also confined to a wheelchair due to polio, prefers to speak of “being disabled”. Because: “I can handle the limits of my body. I am mainly hindered by my environment.” Vanessa Grand also agrees on this point.

Both are making a pilgrimage to Bern this Friday. There, for the first time, a session with only disabled people will take place in the Federal Palace. In one afternoon, 42 people with disabilities occupied exactly 22 percent of the seats in parliament. This number represents the 22 percent of the Swiss population classified as disabled in some way, according to the Federal Statistical Office.

Disabled session? Have not those affected fought against being labeled as disabled in recent years and have not houses and Pro Infirmis pushed for the phrase “people with disabilities”? Organizer Pro Infirmis writes on its website that the title was deliberately chosen: “The subject of ‘restrictions’ should not be hidden, but open for discussion and taboos should be stripped.”

In addition, the title refers to the legal and linguistic reality. In Switzerland, for example, there is the Disability Equality Act and the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, which Switzerland ratified in 2014. So a new movement is starting: the reappropriation of the word ‘handicapped’.

For centuries, people with disabilities have been labeled with words that negatively signified their medical deviation from the norm. Werner Ruch still remembers how it felt to be housed in a clinic that used to be called the “Institute for Crippled Children”.

As the term “disability” became established in various disability movements beginning in the 1960s, many hoped it would finally take into account the social obstacles that stood in their way. They wanted to get rid of purely medical glasses that only saw shortcomings. According to the motto: “I’m not disabled, I’m disabled.” Nevertheless, starting in the 2000s, young people used the neutral term as an insult.

Back to square one? “We were never really a step ahead,” Ruch believes, citing the term “invalid” — which literally translates as “worthless” or “invalid.” According to him, a new term for people with a disability is equivalent to a new coat of paint on the house: “Only on the outside something changes.” Society still sees you as less valuable. So something has to change radically. And that is exactly what Ruch wants to do in Bern.

Perhaps the deliberately provocative choice of title also helps to draw attention to one’s own concerns. The focus of the Disability Session is on improving the political participation of people with disabilities. Each participant gets two minutes to present what that means for him or her. Because: Disability is not just a handicap. The perceived social and political obstacles are numerous. This becomes clear when you talk to the participants.

The spectrum starts with people with legal guardians who are not allowed to vote – even if they were cognitively capable of making an informed decision. And it ends with active politicians such as National Councilor Christian Lohr, who has represented Thurgau in the National Council since 2011 and only gained access to the lectern in 2021. Lohr is in a wheelchair due to damage from thalidomide. He was born without arms and with deformed legs. For ten years there was no ramp to the lectern.

“In everyday life, life is made more difficult for us than it should be – also on a political level,” says Jürg Brunner. He will also participate in the session for the disabled as he is visually impaired. Last year he became chairman of the city parliament of St. Gallen – by chance, because the actual president suddenly dropped out. “Under normal circumstances I would never have been chosen for this position,” Brunner is convinced. Because of his visual impairment, Brunner was deemed unfit for many of the duties a mayor is required to perform. Thanks to a lot of initiative, the 63-year-old proved that it was still possible.

But even as citizens, Jürg Brunner, Werner Ruch and Vanessa Grand repeatedly encounter obstacles that make it difficult for them to participate in politics. For example, Brunner points out that blind people cannot fill out voting documents without help, which makes secret voting impossible. And Ruch and Grand suffer from countless state buildings that are still not free of obstacles.

The UN Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UN-CRPD) also criticized Switzerland on these points in the spring of 2022. However, his report revealed an even more perilous premise: “Instances were reported where voting papers were submitted by people in institutions, people with disabilities were destroyed across the board without the affected people being asked about the specific election/vote .”

Swiss people who live in a home because of their disability often have to actively ensure that they receive their voting certificates in the first place. Because, as the CRPD also criticizes, people with disabilities in Switzerland are still too much separated from the rest of the population by being housed in closed institutions.

In an interview with Vanessa Grand, Werner Ruch and Jürg Brunner it becomes clear: Being able to have a say in politics like people without disabilities often means extra work for them. The three gladly accept this to fight for their rights. They describe themselves as passionate or as “fighters”. But not all people with disabilities are willing and able to compete on the political level, says Vanessa Grand. “Because daily life with a disability is often struggle enough.” (aargauerzeitung.ch)