The rise, fall, and redemption of the doctor behind America’s first public school for disabled people
From the moment he became superintendent of the nation’s oldest public school for intellectually and developmentally disabled children in 1887 until his death in 1924, Dr. Walter E. Fernald led a wholesale transformation of our understanding of disabilities in ways that continue to influence our views today. How did the man who designed the first special education class in America, shaped the laws of entire nations, and developed innovative medical treatments for the disabled slip from idealism into the throes of eugenics before emerging as an opponent of mass institutionalization? Based on a decade of research, A Perfect Turmoil is the story of a doctor, educator, and policymaker who was unafraid to reverse course when convinced by the evidence, even if it meant going up against some of the most powerful forces of his time.
In this landmark work, Alex Green has drawn upon extensive, largely unexamined archives to unearth the hidden story of one of America’s largely forgotten, but most complex, conflicted, and significant figures.
Interesting and (at times) disturbing look at the complicated legacy of Walter E. Fernald and the evolution of care for people with disabilities. This book provides context and more understanding for those who are aware of all of the conversations surrounding the fate of the site of the former Fernald State School.
A Perfect Turmoil: Walter E. Fernald and the Struggle to Care for America’s Disabled by Alex Green is a deeply researched and intellectually rigorous biography that examines one of the most complex and consequential figures in the history of disability care.
Green presents Dr. Walter E. Fernald not as a simplified historical figure, but as a man shaped by and at times complicit in the evolving and often troubling ideologies of his era. The book’s greatest strength lies in its willingness to grapple with contradiction: Fernald’s pioneering contributions to special education and disability care are set alongside his involvement in the eugenics movement, creating a nuanced portrait that resists easy judgment.
The depth of archival research is evident throughout, lending authority and richness to the narrative. Green skillfully contextualizes Fernald’s work within the broader social, political, and medical frameworks of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, helping readers understand not only what happened, but why it mattered. The exploration of Fernald’s eventual shift away from eugenics adds a compelling dimension, highlighting the possibility of intellectual evolution even within deeply entrenched systems.
Despite the complexity of its subject, the book remains accessible and engaging, balancing scholarly insight with narrative clarity. It invites readers to reflect on the ethical dimensions of progress and the ways in which good intentions can become entangled with harmful ideologies.
A Perfect Turmoil is a significant and thought-provoking work that contributes meaningfully to conversations about disability, history, and moral responsibility. It is both illuminating and essential reading.
Impeccably written and researched, Alex Green’s close study of one Massachusetts physician's career emerges as a significant work of disability history. The changing ideas and priorities of Dr Walter Fernald allow us to take a deep dive into intellectual and developmental disability in particular. Fernald, a leading figure in the field for several decades, was hardly alone in a trajectory that moved from compassion and a passion to improve lives to embracing mass institutions and falling under the spell of eugenics. Fernald was one of few leaders, it seems, who was capable of recognizing these as grave errors, and changing course.
Along the way, given Fernald's central role in the field, Green guides the reader through a seldom-glimpsed, much neglected history, one that urgently needs be told--illuminating the origins of longstanding debates and rank prejudice that are still with us. To date we are a nation that is largely unaware of this history, and therefore doomed to repeat it.
An unspoken creed perpetuates the historical and contemporary erasure of disabled people from our national story(ies). Green’s book, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award for Biography, in addressing so vast a gap and defying this creed, makes it a must-read in the fight for disability justice.
It's a book I've long wished for, created with empathy, transparency, and craft.
This is partly a biography and partly a useful history of the intellectual and political battles over the disabled. (I found the book classified in my library as Dewey Decimal 362: social problems and services to groups of people.) It's a complicated book about a complicated topic, and can't be summarized.
Although other authors have told the history of the eugenics movement and the evils it enabled, such as anti-immigration laws and standardized intelligence testing, Green's book is useful for its focus on the helping professions (medicine, psychology, social work, education) and their participation in both the destructive movement and criticism of it.
Like many institutions, the school that Fernald founded, and that later was named after him, started with progressive values and adequate funding. Part of its degeneration was caused by overstuffing it with people who were diagnosed improperly, and the decline in funding so commonly seen in social services. As Green points out, Walter Fernald's natural empathy and humanity battled within him with racism and prejudice against the disabled.
The book ends by showing that the abuses of the past are still with us, although there is much less institutionalization.
This is a look at the work of Walter E. Fernald and discusses the early times of caring for disabled people. I suspect it will have great success (and be more appreciated by) certain niches. I was most interested to read the part about Montesorri as a form of it is now being used by the elderly care facility a relative is in. (I'm not sure if that program has changed over time, because it doesn't seem to be well thought of in this book, though we hear a lot about it now.)
I had mostly heard of eugenics through Star Trek's references to the "eugenics war" and hadn't realized that it was present in our history as well--and backed by some very well known figures.
Note: I was provided a free copy of this book through LibraryThing's Early Readers Group in exchange for an honest review
This was very informative, and I'm glad I read it -- although I quit shortly before the end. I expected more of a straightforward biography, whereas this covered the issue of the disabled very broadly, with Fernald as the fulcrum. I occasionally lost track of who was who, although that's my fault for reading just before bed, when this is a book that should be read during the afternoon, when one is more alert.
Brilliant, important, and humane, this is a crucial piece of history and context for why we must keep fighting for disability rights. Green is a true storyteller and an absolute advocate for those who never had a voice.
Logging back into Goodreads for the first time in years (StoryGraph convert) to push this book—absolutely essential reading for disability history, handled incredibly complicated topics with compassion, and shone a light on information intentionally concealed by the state for over 100 years.