By Julia Gebke
“If we can’t speak, why even live? We’re like dead bodies moving around.” That’s what Shabana said in a BBC News report by Yogita Limaye last year, shortly after the Taliban enacted their "virtue laws" in Afghanistan at the end of July 2024. These laws prohibit Shabana and all other Afghan women from speaking in public, reading aloud, and singing, among other things. The Taliban classify women's voices as intimate and therefore exclusively for the private sphere, which is the basis for the ban. Their voices are to remain silent in public spaces. After making women invisible by requiring them to wear concealing clothing that is not too thin, short, or tight, the Taliban are now focusing on making women inaudible. The significance of voices and voicelessness also plays a significant role in historical studies and sometimes poses challenges to our work.
One common thread among gender studies, postcolonial studies, and dis/ability studies is the effort to give a voice to people who have largely remained unheard, i.e., silent, throughout history (a few samples of recent projects: HEX, Voices & Agencies and Voices of Women in Early Modern Ireland). We are now trying to bring those who are usually relegated to the edges of the stage – offstage and behind the curtains – onto the stage. We deliberately shine the spotlight on them so they can shine in it. We want to do them justice, give them space, and honor their voices. Sometimes, however, it feels more like we are dragging them onto the stage and mercilessly shining the spotlight on them. This is a challenge we encounter time and again. We want to do them justice, but sources often don't reveal enough about them to show their full complexity. Their view of things often has to remain hidden, because for a long time, their view of things was simply not in demand.
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| They are not exactly behind the curtains or offstage, but facing the stage: the theatere audience portrayed by Hippolyte Michaud (1840–1886), Public Domain, https://id.rijksmuseum.nl/20027409 |
We try to categorize and study them under umbrella terms such as minorities, marginalized groups, and outcasts (Randgruppen and Randständige in German). However, after spending more time studying these groups, it becomes clear that the term "marginalized" is misleading because they probably make up the majority of early modern society. In terms of their lack of voice, they are a majority, not a minority. It would be more accurate to describe the nobility, clergy, and scholarly elites as marginalized. However, available sources, i.e., who was written about and who was not, or who wrote and who did not, distort our view of the dimensions. So, how can we rectify this? How can we give a voice to the voiceless without inventing one for them? Isn't it presumptuous to believe that we can become a mouthpiece for those who have whispered so quietly until now? With all these linguistic images of giving a voice and becoming a mouthpiece, aren't we already taking the reins again and placing ourselves in a position that sometimes seems downright intrusive?
That's why I like the magazine andererseits: journalism by people with and without disabilities. Together, they research and work on stories and reports, publishing them in various formats with different partners, such as Magazin Royale from German broadcaster ZDF or the magazine Dossier. They usually publish the results of their research in simple language to make them accessible and understandable to as many people as possible. Here, all voices are represented directly. No one has to be given a voice.
Returning to our initial conundrum: How do we find the voices of people who were hardly heard in earlier eras?
Serendipity
Fortunately, there are always these individual cases, these unexpected personal accounts that provide exciting insights we hardly dared to hope for. To give a few examples: Carlo Ginzburg's northern Italian miller, Domenico Scandello, also known as Menocchio (Ginzburg 72011); Peter Hagendorf, a mercenary (Hagendorf 2012); Glikl von Hameln, a Jewish merchant (Glückel 1987); Franz Schmidt, a Nuremberg executioner (Schmidt 2015); and Dionys Fitzherbert, an Englishwoman born into an Oxfordshire gentry family (Fitzherbert 2010). They all left behind accounts of their lives that are to be understood as exceptions rather than the rule.
Their insights are fascinating, but extreme caution is required when drawing conclusions about an entire group from an individual life. Many Ashkenazi merchant women in northern and southern Germany may have been socialized and raised similarly to Glikl von Hameln and may have thought similarly. However, without the necessary comparative material, it is difficult to determine what unites this group culturally in terms of their way of life and thinking and what can be attributed to Glikl's individual characteristics in her memoirs. Rachel Greenblatt (2024) has made an exciting attempt at contextualization in this regard. Similarly, Carlo Ginzburg found independent theoretical thinkers in the rural but educated social class in northern Italy; however, they would not have been the majority (Ginzburg 72011: 155-159). These are not necessarily isolated cases, but the available documentation is insufficient to allow us to draw general conclusions about an entire group. The same applies to others.
Against Our Grain
We have source genres, such as court and visitation records, in which our voiceless subjects speak as defendants or witnesses. Sometimes, as in the Spanish Inquisition records, we hear them directly and unfiltered. Every word was recorded and transcribed. However, it must be kept in mind that their statements were guided by the questions they were asked. Not to mention, the situation itself was forced, which does not exactly encourage anyone to speak freely. Sometimes, we find their statements paraphrased by the person taking the minutes. These records often reveal more about the Spanish Inquisition or the conditions of a visitation than about the people who were questioned.
Nevertheless, we can read these sources critically to gain insight into the lives of the laundress or gatekeeper. In doing so, we must take care to make their voices heard without putting words in their mouths and to listen to what we ourselves may not want to hear. What goes against our grain because it does not align with our own ideas? We must not distort our sources just because their statements make us uncomfortable.
A recent television example illustrates this dilemma. In an episode of the SWR documentary series Down the Road – Die Abenteuerreise (Down the Road – The Adventure Trip), Daniel, a young man with Down syndrome, talks about how being born with Down syndrome prevented him from pursuing the education he wanted. Hearing this statement and simply accepting it without immediately wanting to do something about it is difficult. Ideas start to flow such as: Society and his environment have drummed into him that education and a subsequent career are life's goals and must be pursued at all costs. Simply acknowledging this struggle as a statement in its own right was incredibly difficult for me, but it is something we owe to others. The same applies to historical persons.
In my doctoral thesis, I discussed the work of the Jewish physician Isaac Cardoso, who expressed anti-Jewish tropes, such as the idea that all Jews are naturally prone to melancholy. He then twists this trope by citing the harsh life in the diaspora as justification and holding the Christian environment responsible for the increasing diagnosis of melancholy among Jews, thereby subtly criticizing it. Initially, I was displeased that he was using the trope instead of vehemently combating it. Only with some distance was I able to accept this and admit that his argumentative strategy was much more promising than strict negation. Nevertheless, I was left with a bad taste in my mouth when I realized that he had not only used the anti-Jewish trope but had also internalized it. However, we must neither romanticize nor demonize history in retrospect (see Jarrett 2020: 81-94).
We don't need inspiration porn, as Stella Young called it, nor do we need to conjure images of the dark Middle Ages. We should leave historical statements as they are, even if that is sometimes difficult.
However, this discomfort is precisely an indicator of what we ourselves are struggling with. According to Jean-Jacques Stiker, one of the pioneers of dis/ability history, the fear surrounding disability is, above all, very unspecific (Stiker 2012: 6-9; Stiker 2007: 7-10). Disability confronts us with our own vulnerability and holds up a mirror to us. According to the German Federal Statistical Office's July 19, 2024, press release, "Just under 91% of severe disabilities were caused by illness, and around 3% of disabilities were congenital or occurred in the first year of life."
Lurking in the back of our minds is a concern that is by no means statistically unfounded: It could be me; it could happen to me. This fear isn't necessarily of a particular disability itself, but rather of the consequences, of the gaze of a society that still excludes more than it includes and an environment that is still characterized more by barriers than accessibility.
Changing Perspective
Due to the desolate source situation, we occasionally have to admit defeat. Then it is necessary to accept that I cannot make the voice audible and that I have to change my perspective. Often, I am thrown back to society's view of our "marginalized" people. However, this perspective is by no means obsolete. On the contrary!
It helps us understand and question the non-disabled perspective that still dominates society today. Unfortunately, a magazine like andererseits is still the exception rather than the rule. Journalists with disabilities are few and far between in the rather monotonous media industry. This makes contrasting the social perspective with past perspectives and questioning the outside view of disability all the more important. Both external and internal perspectives have their validity. Both are necessary for changing the way we think. Although we are more inclined to lend our voices to those who have had little say in history and tell their stories from their perspective, this desire must occasionally remain a pipe dream due to the unpredictable nature and availability of sources.
Last Option: Fiction?
Some may not want to consider this option at all, while others may find it appealing. To what extent can fiction address a lack of sources? For those straddling the disciplines of history and literature who can imagine such an approach, I recommend telling several different versions of history and presenting them side by side to avoid attributing a particular version to historical actors.
However, I am undecided and torn on this point. On the one hand, I have this thought pop into my head: Shouldn't we leave fiction to the writers? On the other hand, writers are unlikely to be enthusiastic about the multi-version option. In science communication, archival and media education, however, such fictional narratives based on source material could have potential. The Hidden Valencia project (Bolufer et al. 2022) is a step in this direction. This smartphone app features the fictional character Josep, a blind street singer from the early modern period who guides users through Valencia's old town during the Revolt of the Brotherhoods (1519–1522). At the very least, I didn't want to gloss over this point, so I put it up for debate.
Not all sources can be read against the grain, and we don't always have serendipity on our side. However, almost every source opens up a perspective that allows us to question social norms, whether past or present. Adding a dash of fiction could fuel this possibility even further. Ultimately, it is up to us to find a way to do justice to the long-unheard voices of the past.
Julia Gebke is a research associate at the Austrian Academy of Sciences in Vienna (Austria). She co-founded the research group DisAbility Studies at the University of Vienna and is a founding member of the Early Modern Disability History Network.
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References:
- Bolufer, Mónica / Gomis, Juan / Llanes, Blanca (2022): Making Disability visible in Digital Humanities. Blind Street Singers in Early Modern Valencia, in: Fabrizio Nevola / David Rosenthal / Nicholas Terpstra (ed.): Hidden Cities. Urban Space, Geolocated Apps and Public History in Early Modern Europe, London, 85-102
- Fitzherbert, Dionys (2010): Women, Madness and Sin in Early Modern England. The Autobiographical Writings of Dionys Fitzherbert, ed. by Katherine Hodgkin, Farnham
- German Federal Statistical Office (July 19, 2024), Press Release, https://www.destatis.de/DE/Presse/Pressemitteilungen/2024/07/PD24_281_227.html
- Ginzburg, Carlo (72011): Der Käse und die Würmer. Die Welt eines Müllers um 1600, Berlin
- Greenblatt, Rachel (July 2024): Women Wrote. Glikl in Context, in: In Geveb. A Journal of Yiddish Studies, https://ingeveb.org/articles/women-wrote-glikl-in-context
- Hagendorf, Peter (2012): Tagebuch eines Söldners aus dem Dreißigjährigen Krieg, ed. by Jan Peters, Göttingen
- Hameln, Glückel von (1987): Denkwürdigkeiten der Glückel von Hameln, transl., comm. and ed. by Alfred Feilchenfeld, Frankfurt am Main
- Jarrett, Simon (2020): Myths of Marginality. Idiocy in Britain in the Long Eigteenth-Century, in: Special Issue: DisAbility im Europa der Frühen Neuzeit, ed. by Julia Gebke and Julia Heinemann, Frühneuzeit-Info 31, 81-94
- Limaye, Yogita (September 11, 2024): 'If we can't speak, why live?' - BBC meets women after new Taliban law, BBC News, https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c20rq73p3z4o
- Schmidt, Franz (22015): Hinrichtungen und Leibstrafen. Das Tagebuch des Nürnberger Henkers Franz Schmidt, ed. by Geschichte für Alle e.V. - Institut für Regionalgeschichte, Nürnberg
- Stiker, Henri-Jacques (2007): L’infirmité est le miroir de notre monde. Entretien conduit par Yves Jeanne, in: Reliance 26,4, 7-10
- Stiker, Henri-Jacques (2013): Corps infirmes et sociétés, Paris, new edition
- Young, Stella (April 2014): I'm not your inspiration, thank you very much, TEDxSydney, https://www.ted.com/talks/stella_young_i_m_not_your_inspiration_thank_you_very_much
Recommended citation:
Julia Gebke (2025): Dis/ability. The Complex Search for Voices in the Pre-Modern Era. In: Public Disability History 10 (2025) 6.
