"Disabled?" #007
What does the word really mean?
So, hello! Welcome again. Today, I want to briefly speak about something that I've been thinking about, and it just occurred to me. This word, 'disabled'—you know, I'm aware that this isn't a word that's fashionable to use. People object to it. But I was never entirely sure why.
What's the bad thing about speaking about disability or disabled people? Much of our official government literature and TV media still use the word, so it doesn't seem like a horrible mistake to use it. However, there's something wrong about it.
Suddenly, today, it occurred to me what it is. I also realized that, in a sense, I am 'disabled.' I walk with a stick myself now. Why am I using this? Because my hip—you know, I'm overweight—over the years, my hip joint has been used up, so I have to have a replacement. Thankfully, I'm in a situation where I can afford a hip replacement. I'm in a country where these things are possible and safe, and relatively trouble-free. So, I will have a hip replacement, and I'll get the gift of another few years of life without this pain, which many others cannot afford. I know this.
But specifically about 'disabled,' I was thinking: Does this make me disabled? Does the fact that I have this stick here to walk around make me disabled? I have trouble getting up the stairs or downstairs. I have to use elevators. I cannot walk long distances. So, in a sense, I am disabled. But then I was thinking about the meaning of the word 'disabled.'
Because when do we disable something? When is something disabled? When you think about how we use this word normally, it means that something does not work at all, right? It's off. 'Disable the camera' means switch it off. 'Disable this microphone installation' means switch it off. A particular mode is enabled—air conditioning mode is enabled in the building—means it's on now. So, 'enabled' and 'disabled' seem to be a binary thing. When you are disabled, you're off; when you're enabled, you're on.
In other contexts, somebody enables a revolution to take place, somebody enables a crime to happen. These are again binary, right? I make it possible for the revolution or the crime to take place. However, this is not the case here, and it's not the case with any other person who is considered disabled. It's not like these people are switched off, or I am switched off just because I have a stick. I am still doing exactly what I did before. I have the same life—I go to my university, teach my classes, write my papers, and record these videos. There's not much that is disabled about me except that I don't walk as well as before. So, in a sense, if I was an Olympic runner before and suddenly I couldn't walk, then you might say, perhaps as an Olympic runner, I might be disabled because I couldn't participate at all in this thing. But this is not what happens. You are still not disabled in general; you are perhaps disabled as an Olympic runner, and that's a very different thing. Also, we have to see that if you take this idea seriously—'I'm disabled at something, and I'm not disabled at something else'—then this suggests that if you look around at your life and your knowledge, you are actually disabled at almost everything.
You know, I am disabled as a car mechanic. I cannot take a screwdriver and go down to repair my car. I can only scratch it with a screwdriver. I won't even be able to open the hood in front. I'm always struggling to find where the right button for that is. I am completely disabled as a car repairman.
Another person is enabled in this respect. My car repairman knows how to do this, but he doesn't know how to make a YouTube video. He's completely disabled. He wouldn't be able to teach a university class on ethics. He is completely disabled at this. Some of you may be from Italy or France—you speak Italian, you speak French perfectly. You are enabled as French or Italian speakers. I am completely disabled at this. I have no idea—I don't speak any French or Italian. But I do speak German and Greek, and perhaps I am enabled as a German or Greek speaker, and you are disabled at this. So you see that everything—every piece of knowledge, mathematics, languages, geography—you can be enabled or disabled at something.
But not even this is true. You can be partially enabled. In geography, I'm not totally disabled. I know where the continents are; I know where most of the important countries are. But there are some countries where I would find it difficult to locate them. If you ask me for the precise position of Kazakhstan, yeah, it's somewhere in Asia—somewhere there in the middle of Asia, toward the south, bordering what was the Soviet Union in old times. But that's it. I mean, I couldn't just go and pinpoint Kazakhstan or even Tasmania. Where is Tasmania? I have no idea where Tasmania is. Close to Australia, perhaps?—I'm not sure.
On the other hand, many things I can pinpoint. I'm not completely disabled; I can get most of Europe right. I can identify most other big countries in Asia. I know where India, Thailand, Myanmar, Japan, and China are. In the United States, I can perhaps pinpoint about 10 states out of the 50. I'm not completely disabled, but I'm also not completely enabled, you know.
The same is true for everyone. It's probably true for you as well in terms of mathematics. We all have some mathematical knowledge. I can calculate the grades of my students, find an average, and even calculate a standard deviation if pressed. I know the formula for it, although I haven't used it in a long time. I can also do a little bit of trigonometry with my children when they're in school. I remember some of it and can use it to somehow calculate angles in a triangle. However, I can't do calculus at all, nor can I work with integrals. I recognize how an integral looks, but I have no idea what it's doing. So, again, we're all somewhere in between—half disabled, half enabled. This concept applies to what we typically call disabilities. For example, someone might have lost the ability to walk entirely, while another person, despite not being able to walk, can use a wheelchair to move around. It's a matter of degree.
There are some things I can do. There are some things I cannot do. But it's not true that somebody in a wheelchair is disabled. In what sense are they disabled? They still live their life. They can work; they can go to their office. They work all day in their office, teach classes, and do science. They can do all kinds of things that everybody else does.
On the other hand, physically fit people—like Olympic runners or Arnold Schwarzenegger—are disabled in many other respects. They might struggle with mathematics, lack knowledge of geography, or be unfamiliar with chemistry.
So, this is what I wanted to say, and this realization struck me today. Perhaps as we go about our lives, we ought to think a little bit about these limitations we all have. When I see someone in a wheelchair, there's no reason to think that I am in any way superior to them. Sure, I can climb stairs, but that's not much of an achievement. In every other respect, I can be inferior to them. They might excel in mathematics, geography, or languages. So, who is the disabled one?
That's it for today. Thank you for listening, and see you tomorrow! Bye-bye.
