I don't know how many of you are aware and read the article below,by Vic
Finkelstein, on 'Conductive-Education'?
I see similarilities in what he was saying in his article, in 1990,to the
current Applied Behavioural Analysis (ABA), human rights abuse cases, that
are happening daily within 'institutions' against children and adults, in
the U.K, USA, Canada, Australia and across the global world.
Has much changed this is article on 'conductive education'? I know that this
practice is still prevalent around the global world and
not been 'banned', as human rights child abuse against disabled children.
I am well informed that money is still being raised daily for these
'conductive-educations' institutions to continue running, by numerous
charities, here in the U.K. I know this, because I had a friend who I
'fell-out' with, who is making about a thousand pond a week, as a
fundraiser, for a charity called 'Lee Sykes National Centre's', who raise
funds for 'conductive-education', for children with 'cerebral-palsy'.
Lee Syke's National Centres at:-
http://www.leesykes.com/
So what can we learn from the abuse within 'conductive-education' to
'FREEOURPEOPLE', from discrimination and abuse?
Let he your views!
Colin R
CONDUCTIVE EDUCATION
A Tale of Two Cities
Vic Finkelstein
This paper was published in Therapy Weekly (22 March 1990).
In November 1988 I spent a week in Hungary as part of my contribution to the
presentation of the
new United Nations Data Base on Disability.
This was the second phase of my involvement which had begun in June 1988
when I spent a month in the USA working at the UN Statistical Office.
Travelling using a wheelchair is usually a mixed affair. Often high levels
of anxiety raised by
confrontation with unexpected barriers are followed by a sense of liberation
when good access and helpful assistance make mobility in a wheelchair
perfectly natural. This is one disabled person's attempt to make sense of
the anxieties and pleasures I experienced in two cities, New York and
Budapest. But how to interpret this experience? I certainly was the same
person in each place but felt so different in the two cities! It was as
though each city imposed its own disability identity upon me, and the
contrast could not have been greater. It was, however, during my visit to
the Peto Institute in Budapest that my thoughts began to crystallise.
For this reason I will start back-to-front
in Budapest where the philosophy and goals of 'conductive education' help
expose, in stark reality, so much that is wrong with many contemporary
approaches towards disability.
BUDAPEST
'The Peto Institute is not a medical centre, it is an educational centre' I
was politely but firmly
informed during my visit. But to me there could be few doubts. The feeling
was overwhelming.
From first sight there could be no mistaking the message of this large
conglomerate of buildings with wheelchair access through a side entrance
under a covered way while the main entrance with its flight of stairs was
reserved for ambulant helpers and concerned relatives. This is an institute
built to the well-established rehabilitation philosophy. 'In' the back in a
wheelchair, or stretcher, etc., via an ambulance and 'out' the front down
the stairs rehabilitated! I spent far too long at Stoke Mandeville not to
recognise this familiar atmosphere.
From the moment of entry there was the usual bustle of white-coated staff
going about their officious business. Everywhere children with helpers
struggling laboriously along 'walking'. Memories of Stoke Mandeville! How
many hours did I spend in those endless corridors learning to 'walk' before
returning home and promptly settling into a more active and rewarding life
in a wheelchair?
My hosts and I waited for the lift and while we waited watched little
children slowly working their way up the staircase with ever attendant
'conductors' (some staff, some parents) hovering over them. As we came out
of the lift (not, of course, the sort that can be operated by someone in a
wheelchair) we could look down the stairs at the children about to have the
rewarding satisfaction of having taken half an hour to reach the same floor
we had so effortlessly arrived at in the lift.
The thought was overpowering - 'what view of disability enables able-bodied
people to spend huge resources in brain-washing disabled children against
the use of our access-mobiles (wheelchairs) while at the same time it
enables able-bodied people to spend a fortune perfecting and promoting use
of their own access-mobiles (such as motor cars and lifts)?' The answer is
equally overpowering - the 'medical model'.
The fact is, as was made perfectly clear to me during my discussions, that
the 'central' objective of the institute is to orchestrate the behaviour of
disabled children, using sophisticated educational
technology, so that these children become 'normal' (ie. walk and attend
normal schools).
The use of educational technology in the interests of medical goals, it
seemed to me, did not negate the institutional adherence to the medical
model of disability. On the contrary, because the central
philosophy of the institution is so deeply rooted in normative assumptions,
it is educational goals that become subverted and medicalised. If schooling
is about preparing children for life as adults in society then the way that
this world is perceived will influence the character of education.
Clearly the assumption behind the 'Peto Institute' is that society is fixed,
it is for able-bodied people, and the task of 'conductive education' is to
fit disabled children into this world. As I listened to these views I felt
increasingly disabled! This was not just an example of the inappropriate
application of the medical model of disability corrupting the potential of
education to enlighten but a stagnant view of the very nature of society and
human potential.
The whole history of human endeavour to alter and change the world we live
in was being reduced to the goal of 'normality'. What a triumph for the
medical model of disability and what a denial of the right of disabled
people to make their mark on the world that we all live in.
For me, this was an insight. As I sat in the office at the Peto Institute I
felt the direct connection
between this world famous institute with its philosophy and resources
promoting 'normality' and the almost total invisibility of disability in the
real world, out there in the streets, shops and life of Budapest.
The meeting place where we discussed issues in planning services and
facilities for disabled people was inaccessible, the central offices
concerned with the identification and allocation
of benefits to disabled people was inaccessible, the streets and shops were
inaccessible, even
moving about in the hotel, let alone out the front door, was difficult.
Despite the extraordinary helpfulness of my Hungarian hosts who made every
effort to provide assistance wherever this was needed a week in inaccessible
Budapest, being the odd one out, stared at and immobile, took a steady toll.
I felt thoroughly disabled and, for me, this found its ultimate expression
in the values and goals of the Peto Institute.
In this place disabled people are 'conducted' by able-bodied 'educators' who
write the score and decide how it is to be played. There are no disabled
people earning their way in the world (and paying their taxes) by working in
this expensive enterprise. I was most definitely not an equal. In here I was
a 'person with a disability' and as an adult, if not actually a lost cause,
then at best a potential case for re-education. Nowhere could I detect signs
of disabled people impressing their culture, values and goals on the
utilisation of resources, facilities or attitudes of staff.
To me this was not the place where disabled people could expect the 'right
to education' to mean learning respect for ourselves as disabled people, or
how to cultivate our perception of the world, or how to impress our
understanding and values on the living world.
As I sat listening to an able-bodied staff member making over-confident and
somewhat trite
assumptions about what were proper goals for disabled people I felt myself
slipping into the final
stages of resigned passivity that characterises so many disabled people who
are overwhelmed by
failure to make their way in the able-bodied world.
I made an effort and consciously pulled myself
together. 'But do you not think that we might better spend scarce resources
making the world fit for disabled people rather than spending so much time
trying to fit us into the able-bodied world?' I had asked this hesitantly,
trying to be polite in questioning what was, after all, a massive resource
investment in the medical model which virtually left nothing for social
approaches towards disability in Hungary.
My question was met with blank incomprehension. I tried re-wording the
question
several times: 'Uh, if the social and physical environment was adapted and
disabled people could move more freely perhaps we could get more jobs, make
a financial contribution to society rather than being a burden, develop a
sense of self worth about ourselves, help devise more effective community
services, etc., etc.'
The interpreter turned to me and said 'She does not understand what you are
asking'. I tried once more: 'Did any disabled person contribute to the
planning and development of the concept of conductive education?' This time
we communicated. A smile and shake of the head. My question was obviously
daft. I gave up. Adoption of the medical model in its extreme form
stultifies innovative thinking.
For me there are two unacceptable outcomes resulting from the inappropriate
values nourished by conductive education:
1. Resources are poured into making disabled people normal and the social
and physical
environment is left to stagnate. Disabled people are passive and
inconsequential to social
development. Critical thinking is stultified and social innovation is not on
the agenda. (Budapest
appears to be almost totally inaccessible).
Attitudes towards disabled people are tainted by obsessive concern with
'normative' goals.
Disabled people are 'prevented' from evolving any independent self-image and
pride in themselves.
The extraordinary intensity and time spent in trying to make disabled
children 'normal' must, surely, inculcate idealised images of the
able-bodied form and life style. I believe this is unhealthy both for the
individual and society. (In the Peto Institute disabled people are
non-people.)
Lets face it, it is highly desirable to campaign and set up systems for good
medical practice in
relation to disabled children and adults so that we can be physically
comfortable, free from pain and
illness. But it seems to me that this does not imply spending ten years of
ones life trying to be
'normal'.
There are a lot better ways of spending one's time and energy, discovering
the delights of
life, particularly in these exciting times when there are real prospects for
disabled people to create
their own role models and to define their own contribution to the welfare of
society. I felt that in the Peto Institute educational skills were not only
being corrupted, through its service to the medical model, but that good
medical practice too was subverted into expensive and fruitless channels.
There was no understanding of the deep psychological hurt that is being
inflicted upon disabled individuals and the disabled community.
NEW YORK
It was in New York that long forgotten memories of being 'normal' were
revived. For one month I
rented a room in a large block of flats on the South East side of Manhattan
and during the working day travelled to the United Nations office in the
wheelchair accessible public buses.
The regulation is that accessible buses must allow entry for a person in a
wheelchair at a bus stop if no wheelchair user has already boarded.
Passengers sitting on the fold-away seats (where wheelchairs can be
automatically clamped) are obliged to move when a person in a wheelchair
boards the bus.
This means public transport is accessible even during the rush hours.
Entering an overcrowded bus during the rush hour, strange as it may seem,
was an absolute pleasure after so many years of being denied access to
normal public transport.
However, this is not my most enjoyable memory of being a commuter in New
York. Travel does not just mean moving from one place to another.
It also entails seeing the world from a particular viewpoint and, more
importantly, sharing common experiences with fellow citizens.
It seems banal to say that we make sense of our world according to the way
we experience it but
this principle, rather than any principles derived from the treatment of
physical impairment, is basic to understanding disability.
If disabled people are denied access to normal social provisions we will not
only have different experiences to that of our able-bodied peers but we will
interpret the world differently; we will see it and talk about it
differently.
This, of course, is the root cause behind the disparity between demands for
new approaches to community services articulated by leading organisations of
disabled people and the call for yet more resources to be poured into
existing
services set up by able-bodied people for disabled people.
In New York travel in public transport provided me with the opportunity to
share an important daily activity with other commuters. For the first time
in adulthood I felt I was experiencing the same freedom of movement in the
public arena that was possible to my able-bodied peers. This common
experience not only raised common points for communication (for example,
muttering about a bus being late) but, more significantly, influenced my
sense of equality with them.
Each day I felt confidence in myself growing and I became more adventurous
in my willingness to
travel unaccompanied in the city. Confidence bordered on recklessness and
several people
cautioned me about wandering alone in New York! I not only felt less
self-conscious as an isolated disabled person in an able-bodied world but
also more able to initiate and respond to conversation with my peers in the
street and increasingly in other spheres of daily activity. Poorly
constructed ramped kerbs, steps into buildings, narrow doorways, uneven
sidewalks and inappropriate street architecture still persist in sufficient
abundance to ensure that New York continues to disable its mobility impaired
citizens.
However, the accessibility of new metropolitan buses and access into, and
in, modern buildings has been taken sufficiently far for there to be a real
sense that equality for disabled people is not just a distant aspiration but
also an achievable goal.
CONCLUSION
What a curious contradiction. In Budapest the Peto Institute concentrates on
trying to make
disabled people normal. The philosophy of 'normality' is paramount. As a
result there is no
recognition of disability as a 'construction' of the social and physical
environment.
The longer I stayed in Hungary the more disabled I felt - anxious,
vulnerable and dependent. In New York there is a move towards accepting
disabled people as citizens with normal rights. As a result disability is
reduced by policies involving barrier removal in the social and physical
environment.
The longer I stayed in the USA the less disabled I felt - increasingly
confident in my ability to function and pursue my own interests. For me my
contrary sense of disability in the two cities raises profound questions
about the underlining values of the Peto Institute. This can be summarised
by a simple, clear-cut question:
'Why did I feel so disabled in Budapest, where the world famous institute
emphasises normality, and refreshingly normal in New York where disabled
people have been in the fore-front of campaigning for their rights as
disabled people?'
It is, of course, perfectly understandable and proper for parents to look
for approaches which can help overcome their children's physical impairments
and it is appropriate for the medical and paramedical professions to respond
by creating services which focus on this goal.
However, the legitimate medical objective of curing physical impairments
(body defects) should surely not be distorted into practices which fail to
notice that disabled people, too, should have the right to determine their
own status in society, the right to determine their own image in society,
the right to determine what is, and is not, an appropriate response to the
problems that they face and, more importantly, the right to make their own
impact upon the world.
It is these rights which form the basic repertoire of characteristics that
make us human and it is one of the most unfortunate ironies of the Peto
approach that it encourages deeply concerned parents to advocate a system
which profoundly undermines the future of their children as fully
functioning citizens with a say in how the
world should be made accessible to them.
The campaign by certain professional workers and parents of disabled
children to increase the use of conductive education in the UK is a case in
point. 'Rapid Action for Conductive Education' (RACE) accepts the basic
doctrine of the Peto Institute in aiming to make disabled people normal.
This is admirably reflected in their 1986 logo which shows a dummy-like
figure rising from a
wheelchair and beginning to run. The message is unmistakable - being in a
wheelchair is wrong.
Clearly those involved in the RACE organisation are unaware that the
philosophy that they are
championing actively reinforces negative stereotypes of wheelchair users and
in this respect seriously undermines a section of the modern disability
movement which is attempting to present a positive image of wheelchair
usage.
The Peto philosophy has a powerful logic, as I found so overwhelmingly in
the inaccessible streets of Budapest, and this too seems to find its
inevitable expression in the undertakings of RACE.
The RACE leaflet for its 1989 conference 'Many Roads to Rome?' informed us
'R.A.C.E. very much regrets that there are four steps which cannot be ramped
inside the main lecture theatre.
There will be stewards permanently on duty by these steps to aid people for
whom they present a barrier to access.' No doubt this is the same reasoning
behind the toleration of steps at the main entrance of the Peto Institute
... and then the inaccessibility of streets and shops in Budapest.
I am confident that we can make better approaches in the UK towards the
problems that disabled people face. Whilst I clearly do not believe that the
philosophy of the Peto approach is helpful to disabled people in the long
run, I am also not convinced by what I saw in New York.
In the end my most striking memory of New York was the sight of disabled
people begging on street corners while the accessible buses rumbled by.
________________End of message______________________
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