It's a reference to McDermott and Varenne's article, "Culture 'as' Disability."
McDermott and Varenne deftly illustrate three different ways to look at the causes (and associated solutions) to any perceived disability (the first of which are quite dangerous, and the third of which is massively complicated but arguably our only hope of actual change):
(1) Person X is disabled. (The disability is IN the person, regardless of context.)--> 'Fix' the person .
(2) Person X just looks disabled because he/she/they does things differently. (The disability is in the person's capacity to adapt to the hegemonic context; and maybe a bit of it is in the context's ability to accept 'difference'.) (It's a misunderstanding)--> Assimilate the person (and maybe offer a few 'cultural competency' workshops to help her/his/their colleagues better understand her perceived differences and make a more accepting context')
(3) Categories like 'ability'/'disability' are cultural achievements (meaning they are not innate facts but rather, are ideas that are only made material by the ongoing work of a whole collective of people) that serve particular political economic ends. That is, ascriptive categories (whether disability, race, gender, etc.) are continually remade in ways that help organize the current distribution of resources and help rationalize/justify/protect that organization. Disability (like race, gender, etc etc) is not innately IN any person. Rather, people display certain characteristics (e.g., phenotype, accent, strings coming out of their arms) to which others learn to assign a cultural category, often in ways that serve the existing economic order. As long as that political economic order demands some mechanism of exclusion and exploitation, there will be a need for ascriptive categories to help identify who is and who is not included. Tinkering with who is or is not a member of said categories only helps distract from the root of the problem: the fact that the economic order demands some system of categorization. (The 'disability' is in the collective and in our ongoing engagement in performing the work of categorizing that serves the economic order).--> Shift the economic order so that there is no material need to privilege some at the expense of Others.
There's more on 'culture as disability' below, but my aim is to use this heuristic to think about the ascription of 'delusion,' particularly in the case of Morgellons and other related conditions. I think it helps re-frame the conversation away from the 'deficit' and 'difference' perspectives and towards what McDermott and Varenne call 'political':
(1) Person X is deluded (she thinks there's foreign debris crawling under her skin, and I believe it to be impossible, so it must be a delusion).--> 'Fix' the person (e.g., pharmaceuticals to recalibrate her perception or to neutralize/numb her) [there's also a version of this that focuses on practitioners' perceived malevolence and deems the solution is finding 'better' or 'more empathetic' practitioners.]
(2) Person X looks delusional because she has a condition about which the mainstream medical community is not yet knowledgeable. (It's exacerbated because patients describe their symptoms in ways that doctors' think sounds 'crazy'). (It's a misunderstanding) --> Educate the practitioners and patients.
(3) Dismissing patient X as 'delusional' helps to maintain the assumption that the problem is in the patients (or the practitioners) rather than the way we've organized contemporary health care and our relationship to the Earth and our bodies. The 'problem' has roots in a convergence of factors (all of which are themselves rooted in capitalism/the upward distribution of wealth/neoliberal de-regulation). In my opinion, these factors include:
(i) climate degradation (and emergence of pathogens in new areas)
(ii) weakening innate immune systems (due to increasing use of antibiotics, pesticides, electromagnetic smog, and inumerable other toxins as well as the stress of alienation/loss of community--all of which shift the body's terrain and limit its ability to live harmoniously with the shifting biome), making 'immuno-competetant' folks vulnerable to pathogens that perviously only threatened those who were immuno-compromised
(iii) the pharmaceuticalization and corporatization of health care (meaning practitioners often have 3 minutes to diagnose and treat a patient and are pushed to do so with one-size-fits-all techniques that use pharmacology to mitigate symptoms are rarely identify root causes; practitioners efforts to resist this model often jeopardize their own job security which--when faced with debts from medical school and current cost of living--is not a risk many can afford to take; medical schools are also teaching medicine that was appropriate for dramatically different environmental conditions; medical education and discourse is massively influenced by 'big Pharma' as well as the agricultural, dairy, cosmetic, etc etc industries, all of which have a tremendous material interest in fixating on efforts to 'cure' disease (esp cancer) rather than prevent it (by way of changing industrial practices and altering lifestyles/etc)
(iv) the rise of the internet (and WebMD/chat rooms/blogs/social media) so that patients can research the symptoms they are experiencing, communicate with those who are experiencing similar things (most of whom are not medical practitioners), etc., fueling anxiety about one's health conditions (particularly at the same time that human health is massively deteriorating) and distrust of medical practitioners
Recognizing the root(s) of the problem would mean facing the reality that most of our efforts to address contemporary illness (specifically the chronic forms) are fool's errands and that real 'solutions' would require massive overhauls of our entire way of life (how we work, eat, communicate, socialize, travel, etc.), much of which we've come to feel entitled to .
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McDermott and Varenne's paper opens with a discussion of 18th century Martha's Vineyard (Massachusetts), where deafness was NOT considered to be a significant disability. The community was organized such that one need not be able to hear to be a full participant. Everyone had basic fluency in American Sign Language, so communication wasn't an issue. Plus, since the government paid for deaf students to attend school (while many students had to drop out long before high school), those with hearing challenges were often among the most highly skilled readers and writers in the community. So, if you wanted a paper read or letter written, you'd likely turn to a friend who was hard of hearing. That is, until travelers started visiting the community--travelers who didn't know sign language and who had learned that deafness was a disability. Deaf folks in Martha's Vineyard couldn't communicate with these travels (nor visa versa). Flash forward a bit and imagine the arrival of technology like telephones that (at least initially) required hearing. Little by little, as society changed to privilege hearing-ness at the expense of deafness, those who were hard of hearing became increasingly excluded and were labeled as 'disabled.' But McDermott and Varenne remind us thatL "one cannot be disabled alone." In fact, since the kinds of labels we have available often shifts with the political economic conditions (and is enforced by institutions that serve those conditions),
The aim of that paper is to show that 'disability' is not a characteristic of individual people; rather, iMcDermott and Varenne's work shows that disability (and ability)--like any other ascriptive category-- is the product of our collective and ongoing work. We, as a 'culture' produce those categories and ascribe them to people in ways that inequitably distribute resources. More simply, the 'disability' isn't in the person labeled as 'disabled'; it's in the collective that is doing the work of (dis)abling certain characteristics and not others.
McDermott and Varenne suggest that the ways we ascribe labels like 'disabled' (or 'delusional') says more about about the current political economic environment than it does about those to whom that label is ascribed. The 'disability' is produced by that institutional arrangement; it doesn't naturally or irrevocably dwell within the individual herself. It's situational: take someone who can hear and put them in a community that exclusively communicates in sign language, and she will appear to be disabled (or not able to fully function within those specific conditions) . With that in mind, where is the 'disability' located-- in the person or in the conditions?
Over the last year or so, as I've continually been told I am describing things that "can't be real" or "are surely delusion," I've often returned to this line of thought and reminded myself that delusions--like (dis)abilities--are a cultural fabrication.
To say disabilities--or delusions--are cultural fabrications is not to say they are not "real" or not based in 'material reality.' Deaf folks in 18th century Martha's Vineyard were not able to perceive the vibrations we call 'sound.' Over the last year, I have seen and felt countless absurdly weird structures coming up out of my skin. I'm not dismissing either of those facts. Instead, I'm saying that the way both events (not perceiving 'sound' and perceiving weird structures) are interpreted have far more to do with the culture as a whole than with those who are doing --or not doing-- the perceiving.
So the real question is: what political economic arrangements are served by labeling descriptions of these symptoms as "unreal" or "delusional"? And how are we all-- "labelers and the labeled alike," as McDermott and Varenne would say--participating in the production of the category of 'delusional'? What institutional practices necessitate the constant surveillance and labeling of 'delusions'? How are we participating in its ascription? And most importantly, how can we do things differently moving forward?
[The full article is available below. Read p. 328 if you'd like to have your view of the world turned upside down (in the best possible way, I think). ]