By Abhishek Anicca
A disability certificate issued by the state government. A unique disability ID. A Divyangjan Card issued by the Railways. In India, one is never sure which disability certificate is deemed acceptable or “enough” by different branches of the government. Even if you have all these certificates, you might still have to appear in front of a special medical board to get a government job or seat at an educational institution, at times only to be rejected on the basis of their arbitrary rules.
The assessment of disability is a difficult journey for anyone who wants to be identified as a person with a benchmark disability. Awarded by a medical board, this process is no less complicated than a government exam and perhaps far more traumatising. If less than 40 percent disabled, you are not disabled enough to be a beneficiary in this country. If more than 80 percent disabled, you are too disabled, enough for some rights and entitlements to be taken away. The assessment itself is dehumanising and reduces a person to their symptoms or body parts.
Amidst all this, the recent judgement of the Supreme Court calling out the ableism in the National Medical Commission’s eligibility conditions for MBBS admissions is a welcome step. It critiques, among other things, the prescription that for admission to the MBBS course, the applicant’s both hands should be “intact”, an arbitrary statement that neither fits into the criteria of how disability is defined by the law nor captures the functional abilities required to become a doctor. In fact, it seems that the Commission’s understanding is shaped by their normative ideas of how a doctor should “look”. To their credit, the National Medical Commission has been consistent with their lack of imagination, issuing prescriptions that have been ableist and transphobic in nature.
Even if you happen to have the right percentage of disability, you can still be deprived of a dignified life. The politics of disability in India is marked more by exclusion than inclusion. Applications for a certain job might exclude certain disabilities without any justification. Insurance companies can refuse to give you insurance, and in worse cases, deny your claim citing a pre-existing condition. Accessibility in many places exists only on paper. Disabled people are made to run from pillar to post just to get the benefit of a government scheme.
The entire systematic apparatus lacks imagination in how it understands and perceives disability. Despite years of activism by disability groups to acknowledge its social aspects, at its core, the state’s understanding of the same remains purely medicalised, and its policy, prescriptive. This medical understanding not only lacks empathy but is outdated and exclusionary. This results in a systematic ableism that starts at the certification process and becomes an embodied reality of a person with a disability that haunts them throughout their lives.
Able-bodied people only realise this when someone close to them faces ableism. A bit of inaccessibility, a bit of exclusion. It’s not something they would question the government on or vote for. Not every day are their elderly parents travelling and need a wheelchair. For them, it becomes a passing discomfort. For persons with disabilities, this is a daily struggle, and frankly, it seems that all of society, with its silence, is proactively playing its part in this discrimination.
These days, social media applications are full of chatter about fake disability certificates. The sanctity of a disability certificate is under question. On the other side of the spectrum, the idea of disability itself is under attack. It is ridiculed and made fun of. Dark humour, they say. The only difference between a disabled person being the subject of ridicule and a person taking undue advantage of a disability certificate is an important government job. Either way, your dignity is always under question. What can be a more glaring example of the pervasive ableism in our society?
Ableism might seem like a grand word, but for those who bear the brunt of it every day, it makes one question the ideals of equality embedded in the Constitution. Everyday ableism doesn’t inquire about disability percentages. Even if one is only 20 or 30 per cent disabled, their disability invites unrelenting discrimination, stigma and lack of accessibility. They will never be deemed “normal” by society, ridiculed for being different. They might not be disabled enough to be a beneficiary but they will have to pay the price of being disabled. There is a loss of dignity, opportunity and eventually confidence.
The entire medicalised model of disability is inherently ableist. Should we do away with everything? I don’t know. But, the understanding of disability needs to expand, for both the government and society. The marginality of disabled bodies must be acknowledged and not reduced to their identities as mere beneficiaries. This might require a policy revolution or two, and demands empathy from the able-bodied majority. Until then, ableism will not only survive but thrive all around us. We will notice it only when the Supreme Court reprimands someone for it.
The writer is the author of The Grammar of My Body and is 57 percent disabled according to government documents