The only one-handed pianist in the world – and not just because most people have two hands

By Emmeline Burdett

Maurice Ravel’s Concerto for the Left Hand was performed at the BBC Proms  2025 by Nicholas McCarthy, the only professional one-handed pianist in the world. It had not previously been performed by a one-handed pianist since 1951 (McCarthy, 2025). This inevitably raises questions about how physical disability is seen and interpreted, and how much this has really changed over the decades.

It also reminds me of the 2016 film Florence Foster Jenkins, starring Meryl Streep. This film was based on the true story of the US amateur soprano Florence Foster Jenkins (1868-1944), who was destined from childhood to become a concert pianist, but who had to abandon what were presumably her dreams due to an arm injury.  The idea clearly is that if you only have one arm, it is impossible to become a concert pianist. This is not the case, as this post will show.

Historical Background

Ravel’s Concerto for the Left Hand was written for Paul Wittgenstein, (1887-1961) an Austrian pianist who lost his right arm in the First World War.  

Figure 1 - This Photo of Paul Wittgenstein by Unknown Author is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND

McCarthy has described Wittgenstein as his ‘hero’ and pointed out that Ravel was not the only composer to write works for one-handed pianists.  A lot of nineteenth century composers wrote works for the left hand for the purposes of showing off: statistically, most people are right-handed, and writing for a performer’s less-dominant hand was gave a good opportunity to showcase a musician’s talents (Roberts, 2024). Tenacity and a desire to show off meant that there was plenty of scope for a one-handed pianist to make a career. In addition, in 1957, Paul Wittgenstein published School for the Left Hand, a series of exercises, etudes and transcriptions intended for one-handed (not necessarily left-handed) pianists. So, why did Florence Foster Jenkins feel that she had to give up a career she presumably wanted to pursue; why had Ravel’s Concerto for the Left Hand not been performed by a one-handed pianist for over seventy years; furthermore, why had Nicholas McCarthy  been discouraged from taking up the piano –  he had been told at different times that training to become a pianist would be a waste of his and everyone else’s time, (Jackson, 2012) and also that he needed to concentrate on playing pieces written specifically for the left hand (Everett, 2014). This  means that people from a minority – particularly people who are in a minority of one – are obliged to reinvent the wheel as it were – not because there have never previously been, for example, any disabled musicians, but because they are all considered to be individual unfortunates whose existence means nothing. Nicholas McCarthy had to reinvent the wheel by assembling a repertoire of piano works for the left hand – not because the people for whom they were written were despised outcasts, but because it seems not to have been thought that the reasons why they were written had any meaning other than in terms of personal biography, e.g. Paul Wittgenstein losing his arm in the First World War. A result of this attitude is that a disabled individual might not be able to succeed in their chosen field without being unusually tenacious. This is one reason why ’rights’ movements prefer to concentrate on the welfare of their group, rather than on specific individuals. Concentrating on the achievements of one individual can make the group’s situation appear better than it really is, but conversely, the last thing a ‘rights’ group may want is a successful individual who is not interested in portraying everything as being stacked against them. If one feels unable to participate in anything where it will be obvious that one is not ‘the norm’, the chances of one becoming any sort of pioneer are not high, but there are ways of approaching the fact that one differs from the norm, and merely telling someone that they should have had more backbone does nothing towards making the world a better place. Nicholas McCarthy has said that he was brought up to think of himself as being just like everyone else (Macmath, 2015), but this could mean anything from accepting that someone’s difference is just there, and is only relevant to certain situations to assuming that a disabled person has to abandon his or her ambitions to fit in with what ‘everyone  knows’ about disability, regardless of whether what ‘everyone knows’ is actually true. 

Florence Foster Jenkins and Franklin D. Roosevelt

There is no clearer demonstration of this than the case of Florence Foster Jenkins and how it is perceived.  

Figure 2 - This Photo by Unknown Author is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND.

In the 2016 film about her, there is no suggestion that she abandoned her career as a concert pianist for any reason other than she felt that it would not work. This suggests that either it was not common knowledge that a pianist could play one-handed, or that Jenkins felt that doing so was not an acceptable compromise. There may however be more to it than that, and it may be more indicative of the place of disability in certain kinds of societies. In his 1985 book FDR’s Splendid Deception, Hugh Gregory Gallagher highlights how the US president Franklin Delano Roosevelt (1882-1945), who contracted polio in 1921 which meant that he had great difficulty walking, stipulated that he should never be photographed or filmed using a wheelchair lest it be assumed that he was too weak to be president (Gallagher, 1985).  Roosevelt was President before, during, and after the Great Depression, and Gallagher argues that FDR wanted to show himself as ‘getting over’ polio as the US was ‘getting over’ the Depression. Gallagher also pointed out that previous biographers had regarded Roosevelt as an individual superhuman and not put his disability into any kind of context or discussed it in a rational manner. (Floyd, 2010) Their attitude is also instructive for the insistence that Nicholas McCarthy should not waste everyone’s time by training as a concert pianist, because there certainly would not be enough pieces to sustain a career.  

A lot of the ‘disability context’ that might apply to Roosevelt might also apply to Florence Foster Jenkins. They were virtual contemporaries, and Foster Jenkins died a year before Roosevelt. They came from similarly privileged backgrounds. Though this does not make them ‘the same’, it does raise the possibility that they may have had similarly squeamish attitudes to the public exhibition of what would widely have been seen as a weakness. 

The Ugly Laws 

Both Foster Jenkins and Roosevelt lived in the shadow of the so-called ‘ugly laws’ (Schweik, 2009). These laws, which were in operation in various US states between 1868 and 1974, were ‘unsightly beggar’ ordinances, aimed at criminalizing actions indicative of disease or disability, such as limping. As these laws were in operation for over a hundred years, they were clearly not a temporary measure. They did not legislate against the public exhibition of disabled individuals, but against interactions between disabled and non-disabled people, meaning that they could be interpreted as having a quasi-eugenic purpose. Since the US passed the world’s first eugenics law, in the state of Indiana in 1912, such ideas have a certain inevitability.  As President, Roosevelt could have been instrumental in repealing them, but his obsessive desire for secrecy makes this unlikely. Foster Jenkins may have been influenced by the legal requirement to hide a disability – an impression which is bolstered by her later decision to sing in public. She may not have been very good at it, but it would have enabled her to express herself musically whilst not displaying a damaged arm. By contrast, Nicholas McCarthy wore a suit which emphasised the fact that his arms were different lengths. This striking difference may be explained partly by the passage of time, but  why was Nicholas McCarthy the first one-handed pianist in over seventy years to play a composition specifically written for a one-handed pianist?

Stigma (1963)

In his book Stigma: On the Management of Spoiled Identity, published in 1963, the sociologist Erving Goffman suggested that a person with a ‘stigma’ (something that marks him or her out as being different from other people) will try to conceal this difference, and feel shame at being unable to meet other people’s standards. The book opens with a letter, supposedly from a teenage girl to an agony aunt. In this letter, the girl, who was born without a nose, bends over backwards to understand others’ negative attitudes towards her, conjectures that she must have done something wrong in a previous life and asks the agony aunt whether she should kill herself. (Goffman, 1963)

Enter Paul Wittgenstein, who was so resolutely unembarrassed by having only one arm that he asked the composer Maurice Ravel to compose a piece of music for him.  He might, however, have felt himself to be a non-disabled person who had had a serious injury. This attitude might be partly attributable to having lost his arm in wartime, which lends a certain heroism and might mean that he did not struggle with his identity to the same extent as someone who had been disabled from birth. Nevertheless, even if Wittgenstein was not ‘the norm’, he unquestionably existed.  The apparent assumption, however, that his attitude was not how someone would ‘normally’ react to disability, together with Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s biographers’  portrayal of him as an individual superhuman, lend weight to the idea that there is a general assumption about how one ‘should’ respond to disability, and that (a) deviating from this requires considerable strength of character and (b) deviations are generally interpreted as evidence that one is an unusual individual, rather than that one has a legitimate point of view. It may be that if deviations became more accepted as meaning something more than that one was a remarkable individual, it would not be so necessary to be a remarkable individual.    

Dr Emmeline Burdett is an independent researcher.

_____________________

References:

Dias, L. (2025) ‘Using negativity to drive forward: One-handed pianist Nicholas McCarthy conquers the classical world’. Scroll.in

Everett, Lucinda (2014) ‘Concert pianist Nicholas McCarthy on music education and the Paralympics’. The Daily Telegraph.

Floyd, B. (2010). Hugh Gregory Gallagher's Splendid Reception. Disability Studies Quarterly.

Goffman, E. (1963). Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity. New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, Inc.

McCarthy, N. (Performer). (2025, July 20). BBC Proms 2025: Ravel's Piano Concerto for the Left Hand. Royal Albert Hall, London, United Kingdom.

Schweik, S. M. (2009). The Ugly Laws: Disability in Public. New York/London: New York University Press.

Shaw Roberts, M. (2024). World’s only one-handed pianist reveals fascinating history of left-hand piano.  Classicfm.com

Recommended citation: Emmeline Burdett (2025): The only one-handed pianist in the world - and not just because most people have two hands. In: Public Disability History 10 (2025) 7.

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“Thou lump of foul deformity”: Richard III, William Shakespeare, and The Lost King

By Emmeline Burdett

The 2022 film ‘The Lost King’ tells the story of how the remains of the last Plantagenet king of England, Richard III (1452-1485) were rediscovered in a car park in Leicester, in 2012. (The Plantagenet dynasty ruled England from 1154 until 1485 and was succeeded by the Tudors). The rediscovery was spearheaded by an amateur historian, Philippa Langley. The film emphasizes that Langley feels a strong kinship with Richard because she sees parallels between the way in which he was portrayed as disabled as a way of discrediting him, and the way in which she has been looked down upon as a person with ME (myalgic encephalomyelitis). It is not uncommon for people with both ME, and other hidden impairments, to spend years, if not decades, attempting to get a diagnosis from a largely unsympathetic medical profession. Indeed, several times during the film ‘The Lost King’, Langley (played by Sally Hawkins) insists ‘It [ME] is a real illness!’. She does so with all the fervour of a person who has been repeatedly made aware that ‘real illnesses’ are ones which can be readily seen and identified by others – not ones which can be felt only by the people who have them.

Historical Background

Richard III was slain at the Battle of Bosworth Field in 1485. He was the last English king to be slain in battle. Because he was the last Plantagenet king of England, and because his death led to the beginning of the Tudor dynasty, it has been argued that the Tudors wanted to blacken his name, and that they did this in two ways – by portraying him as disabled, and by portraying him as deciding that, because he was disabled, he (in the words of William Shakespeare’s play about him) ‘could not prove a lover’, and would therefore hurtle enthusiastically down the path of least resistance and ‘prove a villain’(Langley, 2013, pp.30-52 provides an overview of this long-running debate). These ideas were given their most eloquent and enduring expression in the playwright William Shakespeare’s play Richard III, written c.1592-1594, the full title of which gives an account of Richard III’s supposed crimes, namely “his treacherous Plots against his brother Clarence: the pitiful murther [murder] of his innocent nephews: his tyrannical vaurpation [usurpation]: with the whole course of his detested life and most deserved death”. The play itself was based partly upon Sir Thomas More’s History of Richard III, published in 1513. Sir Thomas More’s text focused on Richard’s appearance, describing him as

Little of stature, ill-featured of limbs, crook-backed, his left shoulder much higher than his right, hard-favoured in appearance…’ (Sir Thomas More, quoted in Langley, 2022).

In the same way that Shakespeare’s play would later do, More’s biography makes the argument that deficiencies in Richard’s physical appearance were reflected in his character, and that

‘He was close and secret, a deep dissembler, lowly of countenance, arrogant of heart, outwardly friendly where he inwardly hated, not omitting to kiss where he thought to kill, pitiless and cruel…’

A Painting by an Unknown Artist

In the film ‘The Lost King’, Philippa Langley shows her husband (played by Steve Coogan) a photograph of a portrait of Richard III which has been overpainted to change his features so that they correspond more exactly to More’s description of his physical appearance. The portrait in question was first recorded in the inventory of the Tudor king Henry VIII, and analysis of its wooden panel suggests that it was painted between 1504 and 1520, probably from an earlier painting created during its subject’s lifetime. Though there is no indication of who painted the portrait, the British Library website speculates that the artist was either Flemish or British, and working at the English court. (British Library) The painting has been subject to various striking alterations – for example, the line of Richard’s coat has been altered to suggest that his right shoulder was much higher than his left, his eyes have been overpainted a steely grey and the corners of his mouth have been turned down to give him a more malevolent appearance. One alteration to which Langley draws attention in ‘The Lost King’ is that Richard’s fingers have been elongated to make them appear more like talons. These changes can be seen with the naked eye as the overpainting has aged differently from the rest of the painting. (British Library)

Figure 1 - A version of the painting in question. Credit: This Portrait by Unknown Author is licensed under CC BY-SA.

In their book The Lost King: The Search for Richard III, Langley and her co-author Michael Jones observe that, although it is now more widely accepted in academic circles that this view of Richard is deeply flawed, the image of Shakespeare’s hunchbacked, limping villain has been difficult to shake from the public imagination.(Langley, 2022, 49) Though they report that few members of the public regard Shakespeare’s portrayal as historically accurate, the fact of its existence tells us some things about fifteenth and sixteenth century English beliefs about disability. Chief amongst these was a belief in astrology, and this was of great importance to one of Richard III’s earliest detractors - the Warwickshire priest and antiquarian John Rous. In his history of the English kings, which was written during the reign of King Henry VII (1485-1509), Rous moved Richard’s date of birth from 2nd October (under the sign of Libra) forward three weeks to enable him to write ‘At his nativity Scorpio was in the ascendant … and like a scorpion he combined a smooth front with a stinging tail’.(Langley, 2022, 39). This was considered important because it tallied with the widespread belief in the power of astrology and its ability to manipulate events. (Vincent-Connolly, 2021,52).

That Richard III had a long history of being considered disabled – either because he was, or as a way of discrediting him, or both – makes a claim made in the British online journal Disability Arts Online seem rather bizarre. In an article published in October 2022, Jeffrey R. Wilson claimed that ‘Richard only really became disabled in the 1980s’. (Wilson, 2). Wilson was, though, making the point that, up until then, the possibility of Richard’s disability had not been seen as an important part of either his identity or of that of the actor who played him. This started to change with the late Antony Sher, who in 1984 drew on his memories of using elbow crutches when he broke his leg to accentuate Shakespeare’s description of Richard III as a ‘bottled spider’. Sher’s research for the role included ‘watching interviews with psychopaths’ and ‘reading about mass-murderers’, which would suggest that he was not challenging Shakespeare’s portrayal of Richard III as someone who had reached the top by killing anyone who got in his way. Sher also watched Stephen Dwoskin’s autobiographical film Outside In, about his experience of polio. Sher seems to have found in Dwoskin’s film a confirmation of what he already thought disability was – a purely physical experience:

Very useful for Richard. He [Dwoskin] has severe polio in both legs and has to wear complete callipers, so the legs can’t bend at all. He walks with crutches and even then, has enormous difficulty throwing each leg forward. I must use this – the hip throw. (Sher, 150)

Another sequence of him [Dwoskin] limping slowly out of the darkness into a square of light. A way of starting the play?  … You hear ‘Now is the winter’ coming from the darkness, then he starts to limp into the light… (Ibid)

 

Figure 2 - Anthony Sher as Richard III 1984. Credit: This Photo by Unknown Author is licensed under CC BY-SA.

All of this suggests that Sher believed that if his Richard III looked right, that was all that mattered. With such a visual portrayal, this was of course not irrelevant, but neither was it the only thing of any importance, particularly as the idea that he had a disability had played such a significant part in attempts to discredit him. Indeed, this seems not to have been understood, as someone with whom Sher discussed his preparation for the role suggested that Richard III’s physical disability should be a visual marker of his inner moral deformity:
Sher reports that the actor Richard Wilson asks him why the crutches that are so important to him are not mentioned in the text of the play Richard III, which Sher counters by saying that other characters keep referring to him as various four-legged creatures. Richard Wilson then asks, ‘Why should it [Richard’s physical disability] be such a hang-up otherwise?’[unless it was severe]  (Quoted in Sher, 1985,139).

Why would someone be ‘hung-up’ on relentless unnecessary mentions by those around them of a characteristic which was incessantly used as a stick to beat them with? Possibly because the person in question is not made of stone? In Charlotte Brontë’s 1847 novel Jane Eyre, Jane describes the ‘reproach of my dependence’ as being ‘very painful and crushing’, and whilst the descriptions of Richard III were intimately connected with the play’s depiction of him as evil, rather than, as in Jane Eyre, with the dreadful crime of having been sent, as a baby, to live with rich relations who did not want her and never missed an opportunity to tell her so, it seems that he was subjected, sniper-like, to frequent uses of his disability as a way of criticising him, whether or not such criticism was actually valid. Antony Sher’s book talks about how other characters in the play ‘keep’ referring to Richard III as various four-legged creatures, and gives the specific example of his wife, Lady Anne, referring to him as “a lump of foul deformity”. (Sher, 1985,139)  Continuous reminders that one does not belong to the ‘tribe’ in which one happens to find oneself (and that, by extension, those who do belong to it, are not merely reaping the benefits of something that had nothing to do with them at all and thus for which they cannot legitimately claim any credit – well done, Lady Anne – congratulations on your colossal personal achievement!) constitute a process known as Othering, and Sher’s comment that other characters ‘keep’ referring to Richard III as various kinds of four-legged creature suggests that this happens more than once. Looking at the play itself reveals that various characters refer to Richard III as ‘a toad’, ‘a hedgehog’, ‘a bottled spider’, and so on. This takes us back to Sir Thomas More’s description of Richard III as being ‘close and secret’ and ‘outwardly friendly where he inwardly hated’, as one reaction to being Othered might be the development of a character where no-one really gets to know you. This sounds a very modern insight for a play written in about 1592-4, but a lot has been written about how acute Shakespeare’s understanding of psychology was, and of, for example, how Sigmund Freud’s theory of the Oedipus Complex was developed thanks to Freud’s reading of Hamlet. This could be another example of Shakespeare being well ahead of his contemporaries, particularly as one does not have to be disabled to be Othered; one must merely possess a characteristic which sets one apart from others, and which they feel entitled to use against one. This insight may have been lost on Elizabethan theatregoers who simply wanted to boo a villain and enjoy Shakespeare’s rather colourful insults, but that does not mean that it did not exist. It may subsequently have been lost as an insight into the behaviour of a disabled character for several reasons: non-disabled people’s behaviour towards disabled people often goes unquestioned and unnoticed; a perception that there is nothing to say about disability, and so on.   The play opens with Richard III bemoaning his own fate, and this is certainly a more comforting idea for most people – that disability discrimination is somehow less wrong because the disabled person is suffering primarily from the torment of differing from the norm anyway. The modern idea of the social model of disability challenges this, by saying that people are disabled by society’s failure to accommodate them – for example by being sent a letter in an inaccessible format when one is visually impaired, or being unable to get into a station – or the part of a station which one needs – because one is a wheelchair user and the platform can only be reached via a flight of steps. It is ignorant to assume that the social model existed in an era which ended with the death of Queen Elizabeth I in 1603, when it was in fact not suggested until the 1970s. 

In his article in Disability Arts Online, Jeff Wilson gives the example of various non-disabled actors who have played Richard III, and argues that they tend to be extremely athletic, which does not suggest that they really had mobility impairments. (Wilson, 2022,2) On the other hand, the impairment that Richard III is thought to have had – a type of spinal curvature called scoliosis – would apparently not have prevented success on the battlefield and would not have been visible once he was wearing armour. (Vincent-Connolly, 2021,145).

This leaves two questions unanswered. Firstly, was Richard III actually disabled, or was that just a claim made to discredit him? Secondly, what significance does the question have today? 

In answer to the first question, when the skeleton was excavated from its resting-place in the car park in Leicester in September 2012, it was shown that it did indeed have a spinal curvature. It was pronounced, but as it was well-balanced, would probably have resulted in little physical disfigurement, and the fact that the bones of both legs were well-developed suggests that Richard III would probably not have walked with a limp. (Appleby et al, 2014, 1944). Not quite the person described by William Shakespeare and Thomas More.  

In answer to the second question, there has been a persistent perception that Richard III’s reputation needed rehabilitating, but this has not always related to a feeling of fellowship with him due to a real or imputed disability. For example, the Gothic novelist Horace Walpole’s Historic Doubts on the Life and Reign of King Richard the Third was published in 1768 and seems to have been much more preoccupied with the idea that Richard III’s bad reputation was based on the continued failure robustly to interrogate sources which, like Sir Thomas More’s biography of Richard III, were themselves deeply flawed. On the other hand, Philippa Langley seems only to have started looking for Richard III’s remains after she discovered that she felt that they had both been looked down upon because of a perceived disability. In addition, The Lost King relates Langley’s unhappiness with a scoliosis specialist’s tendency to describe Richard III as a ‘hunchback’ – a word which Langley does not explain her dislike of, except to call it “that awful word” which she thought “had been discarded”. (Langley, 2022, 170). She gives the impression of somebody who takes the description of someone else far too personally, but one might suggest that it is bound up with her feelings of kinship towards Richard III, and also with her experiences of feeling judged and improperly understood by the medical profession in particular. In addition, she says that she thought that the word ‘hunchback’ had been discarded. This could be a reference to the controversy surrounding the 1996 Disney film The Hunchback of Notre Dame, based on Victor Hugo’s 1831 novel Notre Dame of Paris. Disney’s decision to use the word ‘hunchback’ to describe the famous character of Quasimodo was among the aspects of the film which were criticized; some disability activists claimed that using the word was pejorative and that it raised various problems which it  made little attempt to solve – chiefly that small children were (allegedly) afraid of the Quasimodo character, something which Disney’s attempts to make him less frightening had not solved, as his character might still cause small children to recoil, and refer to disabled people in general as ‘hunchbacks’. In addition, the film gave the impression that all disabled people were physically unattractive. (Knight-Ridder, 1996) One of Disney’s executives, Peter Schneider, said that they ‘had’ to use the word, but it is unclear why he thought that Disney was so powerless that it could not have avoided using a contentious word, particularly as the film’s advertisement posters made no mention of Victor Hugo (something which angered Hugo’s descendants), and the book is often known as Notre Dame of Paris anyway. (Strauss, 1996)

‘Nobody tweaks the Bard’

I came across this claim a few months ago, made in a television drama by a character directing a Shakespeare play, and I thought it was ridiculous. Everyone tweaks the Bard. Well, not everyone, obviously. A significant number of people have, though, whether in terms of changing the era or the location of one of Shakespeare’s plays to make a point, and Shakespeare is often known as ‘The Bard of Avon’ to reflect this. As far as disability is concerned, the most recent ‘tweak’ is the 2024 production of Richard III which starred Michelle Terry in the title role and had a cast that was exclusively female or non-binary. Despite its commitment to other kinds of modern concerns (in addition to its casting, the play explored ideas of toxic masculinity), it seemed clear from a Q & A session with two cast members (Helen Schlesinger and Katie Erich) that I went to as part of a Richard III study day at the Globe Theatre in London in August 2024 that the cast rather felt that the controversy surrounding Terry’s decision to erase Richard III’s disability had rained on their parade. As one cast member, Katie Erich, used British Sign Language, and brought a British Sign Language interpreter along to the Q & A, it was surprising that, unlike Philippa Langley, she seemed to feel no solidarity with Richard. It may have been that Erich viewed herself as a member of a linguistic minority rather than as a disabled person, and she may simply have seen British Sign Language as something which enabled her to do her job without the necessity of having to lip-read her colleagues as well. It seems that one thing to consider is that seeing disability as a purely individual phenomenon helps to encourage the idea that no ethical questions arise from it.

Dr Emmeline Burdett is an independent researcher.

_____________________

References:
Appleby et al. ‘The scoliosis of Richard III, last Plantagenet King of England, diagnosis and clinical significance’, The Lancet, 2014 (vol.383), p. 1944.
British Library, https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/richard-iii-portrait-with-overpaint-c-1504-20
Langley, P. and Jones, M. (2022) The Lost King: The Search for Richard III. John Murray.
Sher, A. (1985). Year of the King. Nick Hern Books.
Shakespeare, W. (2000). The Tragedy of King Richard III. Oxford World’s Classics.
Strauss, Bob. ‘Courting controversy? Disney’s Newest Animated Feature, ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’, Takes On Sensitive Adult Issues’, (1996), Sunday, June 23rd.
Vincent-Connolly, P. (2021). Disability and the Tudors: All the King’s Fools. Pen and Sword Books.
Wilson, J. ‘Cripping Richard III’. Disability Arts Online, (2022), October 3rd.
Wolfe Knight-Ridder, Kathi, ‘Another Burden for the Disabled’, The Spokesman Review, (1996), Wednesday, July 3rd.
 

Recommended citation: Emmeline Burdett (2025): "Thou lump of foul deformity". Richard III, William Shakespeare, and The Lost King. In: Public Disability History 10 (2025) 3.

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The "Counter-Monument" of the Grey Buses: Emotion Networking as a Method for Public Disability History

By Janneke van der Heide & Jan-Christian Wilkening

Introduction

Remembering the crimes committed against people with disabilities during the Nazi era as part of the T4 program is organized in many ways in Germany. Exhibitions and memorial sites are an integral part of this culture of remembrance, as are monuments commemorating the victims of the National Socialist regime in Germany. One of these monuments is the Monument of the Grey Buses. Designed by the artists Horst Hoheisel and Andreas Knitz and originally erected in Ravensburg in Germany in 2006, a stylistically identical Wanderdenkmal [moving monument] was created shortly after. Said Wanderdenkmal has continuously been changing its location and has been temporarily installed across 16 different German cities since its creation. The goal of both the permanently installed and moving monument is the same, namely to commemorate the more than 200,000 victims of the T4 action organized between 1940 and 1941. Grey buses of the Gemeinnützige Krankentransportgesellschaft GmbH [non-profit patient transport company] transported victims to various extermination camps in the German Reich, where they were systematically murdered (Hamm, 2005; Henke, 2008).
The possibilities for engaging with the Monument of the Grey Buses are diverse and have already been the subject of publications (e.g. Müller et al., 2017, for a more general approach towards the theory of memory culture see e. g. Assmann & Czaplicka, 1995). In the following remarks, we would like to focus on emotion networking as a specific method that we believe is suitable for using said monument (and others) to initiate historical learning processes in the context of public disability history. Therefore, we will first give insights into Aktion T4, to the Monument of the Grey Buses, and to its importance for public disability history in Germany. Then, the method of emotion networking will be introduced and it will be explained how this approach can be used to critically reflect on monuments that commemorate people with disabilities. We will conclude with some further thoughts on the relevance of emotion networking for the remembrance of people with disabilities who fell victim to the National Socialist regime in Germany.

Remembering the Perpetrators and Victims of Aktion T4

August 18th 2024 marked the eighty-fifth anniversary of the order of the National Socialist regime in Germany to have allegedly inferior children systematically murdered; an order that was later extended to adults under the name Aktion T4, an order that symbolizes the crimes of National Socialism like no other singular event (Schlebach, 2024). The “euthanasia” program was the culmination of a Nazi social policy aimed at the exclusion and extermination of allegedly inferior life. It was designed to target all people who, according to the regime's understanding, were abnormal, dangerous to the public, incapable of working, or in need of permanent care (Aly, 2014). In addition to the almost 200,000 people who were murdered in the course of Aktion T4, there were 400,000 people who were forcibly sterilized in accordance with the Gesetz zur Verhütung erbkranken Nachwuchses [Law for the Prevention of Hereditarily Diseased Offspring], a law created to prevent alleged hereditary diseases, which was passed on January 1st, 1934. These victims did not conform to the Nationalist Socialists' ideas of racial hygiene and were therefore to be neutralized (Klee, 2001). The National Socialist government had abandoned the traditional system of reference, which placed the individual person at the center of medical, preventive, and rehabilitative efforts, in favor of the health of the Volksgemeinschaft, and therefore cemented eugenic patterns of thought (Thümmel, 2003). Eugenic thinking has its origins in the nineteenth century and had already been critically discussed in the Weimar Republic after the publication of the essay "Die Freigabe der Vernichtung lebensunwerten Lebens" ["Permitting the Destruction of Life Unworthy of Life"] (1920) by the jurist Karl Binding and the psychiatrist Alfred Hoche. However, it had never been put to practice during that time and was only fully implemented on the political stage during the Nazi regime (Staudinger, 1999; Bezenhöfer, 2009).
The Monument of the Grey Buses is a reminder of Aktion T4 (image 1). Not only in one place, but rather (temporarily) in several German cities that are connected to the mass murder of people with disabilities. For example, the memorial has previously been placed in Berlin's Tiergartenstrasse (2008), from where the T4 operation was coordinated. Further, it has been placed in front of various former killing centres where the victims were brought to in the grey busses – such as in Pirna (2010) or Hadamar (2018) – to be murdered systematically.

Image 1 - Original Monument of the Grey Buses in Ravensburg. Credit: https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Denkmal_der_Grauen_Busse, last accessed on 05.12.2024

The Monument of the Grey Buses was designed by the two artists Horst Hoheisel and Andreas Knitz, who see the memorial as a place of remembrance for perpetrators and victims alike:

“However, the design is not only intended to commemorate the victims of the ‘euthanasia’ campaign, the deed and the perpetrators are also reflected in the bus as a memorial. The artists use the grey buses as a means of transporting memories, so to speak.” (Stadt Ravensburg, 2006 [our translation])

Hoheisel and Knitz themselves describe their monument as a counter-monument (NRW Skulptur, n. d.). According to Quentin Stevens, Karen A. Franck and Ruth Fazakerley, counter-monuments can be distinguished from conventional monuments in terms of subject, form, site, visitor, experience and meaning (Stevens et al., 2012). While conventional monuments commemorate famous people in a country, counter-monuments aim to focus primarily on the history of victims, as Stevens and colleagues explain (ibid., p. 955). In addition, the authors argue, counter-monuments have a rather abstract form, are inconspicuously integrated into their surroundings, evoke a “close, bodily encounter by the visitors” and do not allow a uniform interpretation:

“Anti-monumental approaches … , offer no easy answers. They remain ambiguous and resist any unified interpretation; their meanings are often dependent on visitors’ historical knowledge, or supplementary information made available through signs, brochures, guides or interpretive centres.” (ibid., p. 961)

The Monument of the Grey Buses represents a valuable source for people interested in public disability history for two reasons. Firstly, the intended discussions and reflections on the crimes committed against people with disabilities during the Nazi era as well as their after-effects and significance for the present are not limited to only one location. Rather, the traveling counter-monument enables historical discussions around groups of perpetrators and victims in different places across Germany. This can be considered to be important for Germany as there is still a need to shed more light on the crimes committed against people with disabilities during the Nazi era. For example, only recently, Lebenshilfe e. V., an advocacy group for people with intellectual disabilities, called for the victims of Aktion T4 to be recognized as victims of persecution (Lebenshilfe, 2023). The travelling monument can also act as a starting point for explicitly initiated historical learning processes from which pupils, students and other historically interested people alike can benefit. In recent years, various considerations have been made and materials have been created that deal with the (extracurricular) thematization of monuments in Germany (Dräger, 2021; Dräger, 2022). Whether or to what extent memorials that deal with the history of people with disabilities during the Nazi era should be specifically addressed was just as little a subject of discussion as was the question of the extent to which special methodological approaches would have to be developed in order to be able to convincingly come to terms with the Nazi crimes against people with disabilities with the help of memorials in learning communities.

Emotion Networking in Public Disability History

Dealing with the history of the National Socialist regime is often emotional, especially (but not only) in Germany. Anger, sadness, fear and disgust are just some of the emotions that can be triggered by confronting the crimes of the Nazis. When monuments in public history are in some shape or form connected with the National Socialist regime, like the Wanderdenkmal of the Grey Buses, the method of emotion networking offers a possibility to share emotions and knowledge about monuments in a structured way. Although an unstructured confrontation with one's own emotions does not have to be fundamentally bad, it seems necessary to us to at least think about structured procedures for historical learning in and outside of schools in order to prevent learners from becoming overwhelmed and traumatized.
Emotion networking is inspired by the ‘Circumplex Model of Emotion’ by the American psychologist James Russell (1980) and was developed around 2020 by Hester Dibbits of the Amsterdam Reinwardt Academy and Marlous Willemsen of the Amsterdam Institute ImagineIC (Dibbits, 2020). The activity can be organized both on paper and in space in a group setting. When emotion networking on paper, participants position their emotion(s) as a point in a circle along two dimensions of valence and arousal. By emotion networking in space (like in a classroom or in a public space), the participants gather around the object, showing their emotion by choosing a relative position towards the heritage object. The point of a personal emotional stance can be made visible by stepping forward or backward, or by putting images of emoji’s in front of them.
In October 2024, a group of 20 international students in an ERASMUS+ course on ‘Heritage Education’, organized by the University of Cologne (Germany), University of Leiden (Netherlands), the Amsterdam University of Applied Sciences (Netherlands) and the Linnaeus University (Sweden), visited the Monument of the Grey Buses in Cologne. They were asked to stand around the object to position themselves emotionally and to choose one or two out of six emoji’s (ranging from angry and sad, to neutral and optimistic) that best expressed their emotions. Strong(er) feelings were expressed by putting the chosen emoji’s close to the heritage item, whilst weak(er) feelings were expressed by putting the chosen emoji’s further away (image 2). 

Image 2 - Schematic situation of emotion networking in space. Credit: www.emotienetwerken.nl, last accessed on 05.12.2024

We then asked the participants, following the protocol of the method, to voluntarily share and explain their position and feelings. One student responded that the experienced emotion was strong, because of the hard concrete the bus is made from, and that this represented in her eyes the harshness of the historical event to which it referred (image 3). Another student suggested that the size of the windows of the bus reflected the personal scale of the victims, as was the phrase that is carved in the stone in the midst of the bus: ‘Wohin bringt Ihr uns?’ [Where are you taking us?]. Another student expressed weak feelings towards the heritage object, not feeling any particular emotion in front of a – in her opinion – log and unwieldy concrete bus. Yet, most of the students felt affected by the senses when looking into the aisle down the middle of the bus, which is actually split in two parts. Striking and causing emotion for some students was that this particular aisle is suitable for wheelchairs, which made the connection of the impaired of past and present heartfelt. The particular geographical position of the monument did raise eyebrows, questioning the symbolic meaning of the perfect ‘see through’ from the aisle of the Monument on the Cologne Cathedral.
 

Image 3 - A group of international students at the Monument of the Grey Buses in Cologne. Credit: Picture of the authors, taken in October 2024

While the participants share their emotional arguments for choosing a particular spot around the heritage item, interruption is not allowed, as emotion networking is an exercise in listening to each other. After the interactions of emotions, emotion networking requires that knowledge is added by means of information about various stakeholders that are involved in the particular heritage. In a classroom setting, this knowledge is usually added by showing information sheets or slides or showing short videos of different people who represent multiple perspectives (Dibbits, 2020). When emotion networking in a particular space, such as at the Monument of the Grey Buses, information about stakeholders can be communicated by telling. In this case the used stakeholders were the disabled victims of the “euthanasia” policy of the Nazi regime, the relatives of the disabled victims of the “euthanasia” policy, the perpetrators like the managers of the institutions involved and doctors, the Nazi regime as such, the German population as such in wartime and postwar period, and the disabled patients and their relatives nowadays. After the sharing of knowledge by means of stakeholders to get a multiperspective view, the students can adjust their emotional position if their feelings have changed. Again, positions and arguments are then exchanged without interruptions from other participants. The question is if the awareness of multiple perspectives has redirected the emotions. Finally, to conclude the method of emotion networking, a short discussion can be instigated about the question ‘What has this exercise taught you about (this particular) heritage?’ (ibid.)
Emotion networking shows the complexity of different individual emotional stances and prevents the sometimes persistent bipolarity of collective emotional stances towards the heritage object. At the same time, it acknowledges that emotions may change by interacting and adding multiple perspectives and can be defined as dynamic. Thus, emotion networking provides insights into the interactions between the participants, as well as between the participants and the heritage item. (ibid.)
The overall goal of emotion networking around a sensitive heritage item, is – in the words of the developers Dibbits and Willemsen – to become “heritage wise”: acquiring “a competence that enables people to critically relate to heritage and discuss it, by paying attention to the social dynamics surrounding heritage and their own and others’ position in relationship to it” (ibid.). Whether the central item is a sensitive object in public disability history, or a sensitive social or historical topic to discuss in your history class, emotions are channeled by the structured form of the method, and by means of keeping a balance between individual emotion and knowledge of multiple perspectives.  

Conclusion

Memorials in Germany that exclusively commemorate Aktion T4 are rare. This makes it all the more important to consider how these few memorials can be used to provide learners with access to the history of people with disabilities under the Nazi regime. The emotion networking method seems suitable for discussing and reflecting on emotions triggered by monuments such as the Monument of the Grey Buses. Particularly in view of the emotional nature of the memory of the National Socialist regime, we believe that an examination of emotion networking would be beneficial in order to be able to use public disability history spaces as starting points for historical learning processes. We cannot answer how sustainable or effective emotion networking was for the international students mentioned above. However, we would like to point out the overall positive feedback from the students, who largely rated the excursion to the Monument of the Grey Buses positively. Therefore, we are confident that not only students interested in heritage education would benefit from emotion networking, but also people around the world who are interested in facing their emotions when confronted with the public history of disability.

Janneke van der Heide is a cultural historian and history teacher affiliated with the Amsterdam University of Applied Sciences. She completed her PhD at the University of Amsterdam on the political and social impact of Darwinism in the Netherlands (1859–1909). Her research interests include the reception of Darwin’s ideas and history education, and she has published in several edited volumes on the cultural reception of Darwin in Europe. Since 2008, she has taught courses on heritage education, cultural history, and the philosophy of history.

Jan-Christian Wilkening is working as a research assistant in the Department of History Education at the University of Cologne. He just defended his PhD thesis on “Historical Thinking and Learning of Students with Intellectual Disabilities: Participatory Practices of an Inclusive History Education”. His research primarily focuses on inclusive history education, public history, and historical thinking.

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References:
Assmann, J. & Czaplicka, J.: Collective Memory and Cultural Identity, in: New German Critique 65 (1995), S. 125-133.
Aly, G.: Die Belasteten. „Euthanasie“ 1939-1945. Eine Gesellschaftsgeschichte, Frankfurt/M. 2014.
Bezenhöfer, U.: Der gute Tod? Geschichte der Euthanasie und Sterbehilfe, 2. ed., Göttingen 2009.
Dibbits, H.: Emotienetwerken: erfgoed- en burgerschapseducatie in de 21 eeuw, in: Cultuur + Educatie 19 (2020), pp. 8–26.
Dräger, M.: Denkmäler im Geschichtsunterricht thematisieren. Frankfurt/M. 2022.
Dräger, M.: Denkmäler im Geschichtsunterricht. Frankfurt/M. 2021.
Hamm, M. (Ed.): Lebensunwert – zerstörtes Leben. Zwangsterilisation und „Euthanasie“, Frankfurt/M. 2005.
Henke, K.-D. (Ed.): Tödliche Medizin im Nationalsozialismus. Von der Rassenhygiene zum Massenmord, Köln 2008.
Klee, E.: Deutsche Medizin im Dritten Reich. Karriere vor und nach 1945, Frankfurt/M. 2001.
Lebenshilfe: Von den Nazis ermordete Menschen mit Behinderung werden zu Opfern zweiter Klasse gemacht, URL: https://www.lebenshilfe.de/presse/pressemeldung/von-den-nazis-ermordete-menschen-mit-behinderung-werden-zu-opfern-zweiter-klasse-gemacht?srsltid=AfmBOoo3zTAxQZW8boV0aTi6lU0UB_3L4f8sCNSLI9W58GeXH2WII3X7 [last accessed on 11.12.2024].
Müller, T. / Schmidt-Michel, Paul-Otto / Schwarzbauer, F. / Hoheisel, H. (Ed.): Vergangen? Spurensuche und Erinnerungsarbeit - das Denkmal der Grauen Busse, Zwiefalten 2017.
NRW Skulptur: Denkmal der Grauen Busse, URL: https://nrw-skulptur.net/skulptur/denkmal-der-grauen-busse/ [last accessed on 11.12.2024].
Schlebach, A.: Euthanasie. „Rassenhygiene“ der Nationalsozialisten, in: NDR [online], URL:    https://www.ndr.de/geschichte/chronologie/Euthanasie-Rassenhygiene-im- Nationalsozialismus,euthanasie100.html [last accessed on 11.12.2024].
Stadt Ravensburg: Mahnmal Weißenau, URL: http://www.dasdenkmaldergrauenbusse.de/images/files/Standorte/Weissenau/WeissenauBroschuere.pdf [last accessed on 11.12.2024].
Staudinger, R.:  Rassenrecht und Rassenstaat. Die nationalsozialistische   Vision eines „biologisch totalen Staates“, Tirol 1999.
Stevens, Q. / Franck, K. / Fazakerley, R.: Counter-monuments: The Anti-monumental and the Dialogic, in: The Journal of Architecture 17 (2012), 6, pp. 951–972.
Thümmel, I.: Sozial- und Ideengeschichte der Schule für Geistigbehinderte im 20. Jahrhundert. Zentrale Entwicklungslinien zwischen Ausgrenzung und Partizipation, Berlin 2003.

 

Recommended citation: Janneke van der Heide & Jan-Christian Wilkening (2025): The "Counter-Monument" of the Grey Buses: Emotion Networking as a Method for Public Disability History. In: Public Disability History 10 (2025) 1.

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Bearly Inspirational: Florence Attwood and Mavis Rendle

By Emmeline Burdett

A lot of the information in this blog is based on a Merrythought blog post about Florence Attwood, and on sources kindly supplied by Merrythought, including an article entitled ‘A Deaf Toy Designer’, by Doreen Woodford, which was originally published in the Deaf History Journal in August 2002.

Photograph of Florence Attwood 1907-1952

Florence Attwood, or ‘Florrie’ for short, was one of the earliest designers for the English soft toy company Merrythought, and she designed all the 32 characters which appeared in its first catalogue, published in 1931 (Merrythought itself having been founded in 1930).

A 1930s merrythought teddy bear

Attwood was born on 24th July 1907 at Dawley in Shropshire, England. She caught measles when she was two years old, and, as a result, she became deaf. In common with her brothers and sisters, she seems to have attended Ketley County Infants’ School for two years, before being admitted to the Royal School for the Deaf in Manchester, England, on 31st May 1915. Following the opening of the school’s Henry Worrall Training Centre for Elder Girls in March 1923, Attwood trained in its Dressmaking Department, and in 1926, she began work at Chad Valley, another soft toy manufacturer, at a rate of sixteen shillings per week. Chad Valley’s Production Manager, Clifton James Rendle, had a daughter called Mavis, who was also a pupil at the Manchester Royal School for the Deaf and had had some brief contact with Attwood, despite being eleven years younger. It may be that Rendle suggested that Attwood channel her creativity into designing toys, and/or helped her get employment at Chad Valley. In any event, when Rendle was asked to join a new firm – Merrythought – Attwood was one of the employees that he took with him. Merrythought opened in 1930.

Photograph of the Henry Worrall training centre’s dressmaking department

Merrythought’s first catalogue was published in 1931, and included original designs as well as well-known characters, such as the dog Greyfriars Bobby, who allegedly spent fourteen years guarding his master’s grave in Edinburgh, Scotland, until his death in January 1872. Attwood also designed various pandas for Merrythought, mostly after London Zoo’s acquisition, in 1939, of a panda named Ming. In 1949, Attwood also designed a bear named Punkinhead for the Canadian department store Eaton’s. This was one of the last designs she ever did, for she died of cancer in 1952 at the age of only 44.

Attwood and Deafness

Both the Merrythought Blog and Doreen Woodford’s article in the Deaf History Journal agree that Attwood discovered her talent for creativity during her time at the Royal School for the Deaf in Manchester, and specifically in the Dressmaking Department of the Henry Worrall Training Centre. [the Centre is also sometimes called a Training School, so I use the terms interchangeably]. This challenges the idea, popular amongst disability activists, that the only thing that mainstream society has ever tried to do is to suppress disabled people, often by preventing them from reaching their potential and then complaining that they are a useless waste of money. For example, in her chapter on school education in the 2014 book Disability Studies: A Student’s Guide, Dawn Benson argues that the extent and quality of disabled children’s education has been entirely dependent on the disability movement.

This does rather suggest that nobody else could be relied upon to ensure that a disabled child received a meaningful education, whereas the example of the Henry Worrall Training School suggests that the picture may be somewhat more nuanced. The fact that the Training School was ‘for Elder Girls’ and the fact that it had a Dressmaking Department suggest that the girls were being trained for traditionally female occupations but does not necessarily say anything about deafness. An article which was published in the journal The Teacher of the Deaf in April 1923 took pains to emphasise that many of first intake of girls to the Henry Worrall Training Centre “had the great advantage of starting their ordinary education early in life, between 5 and 6 years of age”, but it is unclear what this means, and whether it relates to the girls’ ability to communicate orally, as opposed to using sign language. It is not known how much oral speech Attwood managed to acquire, as she became deaf when she was learning to talk. By the time she worked at Merrythought, Attwood communicated by using sign language and fingerspelling, as well as by reading what other workers wrote down.

Attwood as an “Inspiration”

The Merrythought blog post about Florence Attwood describes how she “inspirationally overcame the many challenges associated with being deaf and unable to speak”. Though this suggests that not all the ‘challenges’ in question may have been a direct result of Attwood’s deafness, to describe disabled people as ‘inspirational’ (or a related term, such as ‘wonderful’) is a common, and rather unhelpful, response to impairment. Apart from the rather flippant point that no-one designs toys with their ears (and thus that, seen from this point of view, Attwood was not at a disadvantage), describing a disabled person as ‘inspirational’ rather obscures the reality of disability. For example, in a TED talk in 2014, the late Stella Young related how, when she was fifteen years old, an acquaintance had asked her parents if he could nominate her for a Community Achievement Award.

Young’s parents pointed out that Young had not achieved anything. In saying this, they were not casting aspersions upon their daughter, but rather pointing out that nominating her for an award for being disabled was really rather patronising. By contrast, Attwood had achieved something. Although she had been given a helping hand, the fact that she had become a successful and imaginative toy designer was entirely due to her own abilities. So, is the Merrythought Blog right to describe her as ‘inspirational’?

The article in the Deaf History Journal also tells the story (insofar as it is known) of Mavis Rendle, who had been the fellow pupil whom Attwood had mentored upon her arrival at The Royal School for the Deaf in Manchester, despite their eleven-year age difference. Rendle had become deaf at the age of five months in 1919, as a result of the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918-1919. When she was five years old, her parents had sent her to the Royal Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb in Margate, England, but when, fifteen months later, her father got a new job in Shropshire, the local Education Authority decided that Mavis should be transferred to the Royal School for the Deaf in Manchester. Like Attwood, she had trained at the Henry Worrall Training Centre, but appears not to have flourished as Attwood did, with the only thing known for certain about her future life is that she and her mother met her father for lunch every day for some years at a nearby hotel.

It may be that Rendle had no interest or aptitude for the trade that had been chosen for her. However, having apparently washed their hands of her when she was five years old, it seems that Rendle’s parents (in particular, her mother) belatedly clung to her like limpets, and one wonders if the lunch arrangement was something that any of them actually enjoyed. It is noteworthy that Mavis’s father helped Attwood, a schoolfellow of his daughter’s and, though he may not have been in a position to offer the same assistance to his daughter, one wonders whether he did try to help her and, if so, what form this help took. In addition, the article in the Deaf History Journal highlights the isolation of many deaf people at the time but does not state whether this was portrayed as being a natural consequence of deafness, or a result of the deaf person’s circumstances. One wonders how typical Rendle’s experience, of having her own parents and an education authority decide that she should, twice in early childhood, be uprooted from everything she knew, contributed to this isolation. In addition, it is difficult to avoid contrasting Attwood’s life, which, although it was cut short, seems to have been successful and fulfilled, with Mavis Rendle’s. of which it is not so easy to make such statements. It may be that Rendle’s parents were, by figuring so prominently in her adult life, attempting to protect her from the isolation and lack of opportunity to which she was perhaps considered to be prone, but it may have been that the causes of her vulnerability were misidentified. So-called ‘boarding-school syndrome’ was only identified in 2011 and was described by its identifier as “a set of lasting psychological problems observable in adults who, as children, were sent away from their home at an early age to boarding schools” (Moore 2021) but it does have a bearing on Mavis Rendle’s situation, particularly in terms of having been sent away from home at the age of only five. As many commentators have identified, being sent away to school has a long history in Britain (see for example Emma Jacobs, ‘Lessons in Britishness’, Financial Times).

In addition, it is often the case that anything that happens to disabled people is interpreted as having a therapeutic or otherwise benign purpose, making it more difficult to criticize or complain about. This suffocating insistence on the benignity of everyone else’s intentions was part of the reason why the disability rights movement was slower to get going than movements based on race or gender, for example, but also makes it difficult to discuss things which, if they happened to another section of society, would be unquestionably seen as wrong (Knittel 2015). It may be that Rendle’s life was happy but largely undocumented, but as Stella Young pointed out in her TED talk, “Being disabled doesn’t make you exceptional. Questioning what you think you know about it does”.

This is why it is not sufficient to describe someone like Florence Attwood as ‘inspirational’, because, however impressive her achievements, setting them in context by, for example, discussing another deaf person who lived at the same time, such as Mavis Rendle, helps avoid ‘inspiration porn’, which, to quote from Stella Young’s TED talk again, is to “objectify one group of people for the benefit of another group of people”. This in turn helps avoid problems such as the assumption that things which happened to disabled people simply ‘because they were disabled’ and are not worth discussing.

References

• Dawn Benson, Education (School) in Cameron, C. (ed.) Disability Studies: A Student’s Guide (London: Sage Publications Ltd., 50.
• Susanne Knittel, The Historical Uncanny: Disability, Ethnicity, and the Politics of Holocaust Memory (New York: Fordham University Press, 2015), 41. Knittel gives the example of Giorgio Agamben’s book Homo Sacer, and its problematic idea that the Nazi ‘euthanasia’ programme was in better faith than the rest of the Nazi genocide. Although this is an extreme example, it does serve to demonstrate how the idea of ‘being cruel to be kind’ is in some ways particularly acceptable to society as a whole when applied to disabled people.
• Charlotte Moore, “So, what is Boarding School Syndrome?”, Cosmopolitan, 29th November 2021, unpaged.
• Doreen Woodford, ‘A Deaf Toy Designer’, reprint of an article featured in the Deaf History Journal, vol.6, no.1 (August 2002), pp.35-42. Published by the British Deaf History Society.

Recommended citation

Emmeline Burdett (2024): Bearly Inspirational: Florence Attwood and Mavis Rendle. In: Public Disabilitiy History 9 (2024) 1.

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Martial Arts for Disabled People - A Historical Perspective

By Richard Sison

Over their long history, martial arts have evolved various forms and techniques. A lesser known but significant aspect of this history is martial arts practice for disabled people. 

Historically, such adaptations have emerged in various cultures and regions, reflecting that disability and interest in martial arts are worldwide phenomena. 

Martial arts enable disabled and non-disabled individuals to physically train, cultivate mental well-being, and foster social connections.

Historical Origins – Ancient China and Japan 

Martial arts practices tailored for disabled individuals have a long history, with accounts dating back to ancient China and Japan. Various sources documented these practices, providing insights into the time's techniques, beliefs, and influences.

Ancient China

In ancient China, records of martial arts techniques were adapted. These techniques focused on using internal energy (qi) rather than physical strength, making them accessible to individuals with different abilities. 

Figure 1 - A part of the Great Wall of China surrounded by trees. Credit: https://www.pexels.com/photo/brown-concrete-wall-surrounded-by-trees-1653823/ .

These records can be found in ancient Chinese texts such as the "Nei Jia Quan Shu" (O’Brien 2004), which documented martial arts practices that emphasized cultivating internal energy for self-defense and health benefits. These practices were believed to be effective for individuals with physical impairments, as they relied less on physical strength and more on harnessing internal energy.

Ancient Japan

In Japan, during the Edo period (1603-1867), there were accounts of a martial art called "Taki-Ryu" that focused on using tactile and auditory senses to perceive and respond to opponents. 

Taki-Ryu was developed by blind and visually impaired individuals and was explicitly designed to be accessible to those with visual impairments. The techniques of Taki-Ryu used to touch and sound compensate for the lack of sight, making it a unique martial art that catered to individuals with disabilities. 

Accounts of Taki-Ryu can be found in historical documents such as the "Japanese Swordsmanship" (Warner & Draeger 1982), which documented various martial arts practices of the time.

Figure 2 - A child without arms training in martial arts. Picture taken by the author.

Adaptations and Modifications in Martial Arts 

More recent adapted martial arts have followed this pattern, using techniques which are heavily reliant on a disabled individual’s strengths. For example, methods that rely on physical strength or agility may be adapted to emphasize balance, leverage, or precise movements, making them more accessible to individuals with limited mobility or strength.

In addition, assistive devices such as canes, braces, or prosthetics may be integrated into martial arts to support individuals with mobility impairments.

Historical Context

Different regions' cultural, social, and historical contexts often influenced the emergence of adapted martial arts practices. In Eastern cultures, martial arts were considered a form of self-defense and a way to cultivate inner strength, discipline, and resilience, which could be particularly relevant for individuals with disabilities who faced societal discrimination or stigma. Martial arts may have empowered and enabled social integration – enabling disabled individuals to overcome societal barriers and gain recognition for their skills and abilities. However, the availability of adapted martial arts may have been influenced by societal attitudes toward disability and the availability of resources and support systems for disabled individuals. 

Figure 3 - A child without arms training in martial arts. Picture taken by the author.

Evolution of Adapted Martial Arts

Adapted martial arts practices have evolved and developed over the centuries.

In China, for example, "Tai Chi" has been adapted to accommodate individuals with physical impairments, with modified movements and techniques emphasizing balance, flexibility, and relaxation.

The development of disability sports has made significant strides in recent years, with increased recognition of the athletic abilities and potential of individuals with disabilities. One area of interest and innovation in disability sports is the adaptation of martial arts to accommodate the strengths and abilities of disabled individuals. 

Modern training techniques, specialized equipment, and adaptive technologies have meant that disabled individuals have a greater opportunity to engage in martial arts training and competitions.

The development of lightweight and durable prosthetics, braces, and other assistive devices has allowed individuals with limb impairments to participate in martial arts practices with greater ease and mobility. 

Training methods and instructional approaches such as verbal cues, tactile feedback, and modified movements have made martial arts techniques more accessible and adaptable.

Figure 4 - A man in athletic clothes touching his prosthetic leg. Picture taken by the author.

Key Milestones 

Throughout history, the development of adapted martial arts has been shaped by notable events and influential figures. These milestones have contributed to the growth, recognition, and acceptance of martial arts as a viable form of physical activity and self-development for individuals with disabilities.

The establishment of organizations, competitions, and championships specifically for individuals with disabilities, such as the International Wheelchair and Amputee Sports Federation (IWAS) and the Paralympic Games, have provided platforms for disabled athletes to showcase their martial arts skills and abilities on a global stage.

It is crucial to emphasize avoiding harmful representations and promoting inclusive perspectives when discussing adapted martial arts. It is essential to move beyond the narrative of individuals simply overcoming their impairments through martial arts and instead focus on the empowerment, inclusion, and social integration that martial arts can provide.

Richard Sison, the founder of Fight Coop, has over 20 years of martial arts experience in Boxing, Muay Thai, and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. With a passion for sharing his knowledge, Richard created Fight Coop to connect and promote mental health awareness and inclusion. His expertise in sports nutrition and understanding of the mental and emotional benefits of martial arts make Fight Coop a valuable resource.

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References:

O’Brien, J. (Ed.). (2004) Nei Jia Quan: Internal Martial Arts Teachers of Tai Ji Quan, Xing Yi Quan and Ba Gua Zhang. Berkeley: North Atlantic Books.

Warner, G., & Draeger, D. (1982) Japanese Swordsmanship: Technique and Practice. Boston: Weatherhill.

Recommended citation:

Sison, Richard (2023): Martial Arts for Disabled People - A Historical Perspective.  In: Public Disability History 8 (2023) 3.

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Theodorus Steib (born 1627)

– A disabled artist and his self-determined life –

The Object

We [the authors] discovered this miniature self-portrait of Theodorus Steib. It is not just a testament to his painting skills, but also to how he saw himself. His painting skills were truly amazing, and he also managed to capture his experiences as a disabled person in seventeenth-century Austria and Germany. 

Self-portrait of Thodorus Steib. Oil on oak wood, dated 1651.

Photo: K.-K., Rhineland-Palatinate, image courtesy of the owners.

The picture shows him deep in concentration, sitting on a red cushion on the floor. His gaze is fixed on his feet. As he was born without hands or arms, his feet allowed him to live a self-determined life. 

He is shown surrounded by the tools of his trade. Beside him there is an inkwell, an ink blotter, and two quills. By his other side there is a stack of paper with scissors, a drinking vessel, a can and a cut-out object. All these things are expressions of his independence, which show in his professional actions. 

The text in the lower section of the picture was written by himself. He described how, when and where he painted the painting. 

The content of this contribution is based on extensive research,  including contact with different museums, historians and experts. These people enthusiastically helped us and spared no effort in providing us with information from archives and old documents. 

This unique and unusual survivor from a bygone era quickly attracted interest. Its existence was unknown for centuries and now that it has been rediscovered, it should be as widely known as possible. It can be viewed on the city website of Rothenburg ob der Tauber. You can also find an article about it here.

Our reasons

The reason for this contribution is a miniature painting, which we bought after discovering it by chance due to our connections in the art world. At first there was no obvious clue which let us know the hidden story this painting tells. After a lot of research many small pieces of information formed a picture of a remarkable and unique life of a person with a disability.

Who was Theodorus Steib? 

Theodorus Steib was born in Vienna, during the Thirty Years War (1618-1648). Even as a small child, he was determined to be as independent as possible. Despite social barriers, he painstakingly learned how to use his feet for painting, whittling, cutting paper and cocking and shooting a gun. He also wrote poems and rhymes, mostly about himself.

Historical background

The Thirty Years War was one of the most destructive conflicts in European history and caused widespread hardship. For Theodorus Steib, who was 22 when it ended, his disabilities made things even harder. At the time, disabled babies rarely survived.

At that time, disabled people were often ignored and cast out of society - exhibited at fairs for the amusement of onlookers, or kept as jesters for entertainment at court. Theodorus Steib, however, gained respect and recognition for his abilities. With a cart and three servants, he travelled around the country, bringing his artistic skills to the people. 

All this gave him astonishing confidence and the financial means to make a living for his family, his three servants and himself. With persistence, hard work, much courage, and endurance he refined his art. He demonstrated his talents publicly, writing poems or little letters in the presence of viewers. Selling these enabled him to become financially independent and later to support his family.

His journey

The fact that he is preserved in records is testament to the importance that people attached to him.

When he was 24 he travelled from Regensburg to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, where he stayed for a couple of weeks and took part in the Christmas Market as an artist. 

He was a visitors’ magnet. There he also penned rhymes and little letters, cut figures with scissors and painted others and himself. 

A year later he moved to Nuremberg. Whilst there he painted paintings and penned little letters, to the delight of paying audiences. His financial livelihood was secured. 

In July 1657 he married his wife Martha in the Scots Church in Vienna. One year later, his daughter Maria Catharina was born. Two years later his son Georg was born. In the year 1663 he travelled with his family back to the renowned spa town of Baden in Switzerland. Shortly after that Theodorus sadly died. His son Georg followed him a few weeks later.

Addition of 16 August 2023:

The miniature panel painting by Theodorus Steib has been officially and permanently included in the list of "nationally valuable cultural assets" by the Commission for the Protection of Cultural Property in Germany.

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About the authors:

Retired married couple.
Centre of life: Rhineland-Palatinate
Interested in ancient artwork. 
Hobby: Exploration of histories.

Recommended citation:

Karla-Kreitz (2023): Theodorus Steib (born 1627). In: Public Disability History 8 (2023) 1.

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