The Minority Body: A Theory of Disability

by Elizabeth Barnes

Elizabeth Barnes argues compellingly that disability is primarily a social phenomenon--a way of being a minority, a way of facing social oppression, but not a way of being inherently or intrinsically worse off. This is how disability is understood in the Disability Rights and Disability Pride movements; but there is a massive disconnect with the way disability is typically viewed within analytic philosophy. The idea that disability is not inherently bad or sub-optimal is one that many philosophers treat with open skepticism, and sometimes even with scorn. The goal of this book is to articulate and defend a version of the view of disability that is common in the Disability Rights movement. Elizabeth Barnes argues that to be physically disabled is not to have a defective body, but simply to have a minority body.

Genres: Philosophy, Disability, Nonfiction, Feminism, Disability Studies, Social Justice, Social Science

186 pages, Hardcover

Published June 1, 2016

Reviews

[Genae Matthews · Rating 5 out of 5]

An incredible example of what philosophy can do. This should be required reading for everyone and made me recognize just how entrenched ableism is.

[Jacqui · Rating 5 out of 5]

Elizabeth Barnes has written a clear, well-supported, and engaging analysis of the connection between disability and well-being. She draws on Miranda Fricker’s analysis of epistemic injustice in two important ways, using frameworks of both testimonial and hermeneutical injustice.

In brief, disability is mere-difference (not bad-difference). Disability is the sort of thing that makes your life different, that means you have a minority body. Testimony from disabled people, much academic scholarship, and the Disability Pride civil rights movement all suggest that the majority (non-disabled) view (that disability is bad, dysfunctional, suboptimal, and a hindrance to well-being) is prejudiced and wrong. Barnes gives example after example, reference upon reference, to support each claim she makes and each objection she dismantles. Her argument is compelling and convincing.

Ableist intuitions are deep, but not unreachable. Dominant society needs to stop stigmatizing disability, help rectify testimonial and hermeneutical injustices concerning disability, and move forward with a justice-oriented approach informed first-most by disabled people and the Disability Pride movement.

I recommend this book for anyone interested in the topic, and especially for someone who finds themself, as I once did, with naturalist tendencies to view disability as “evolutionarily” dysfunctional in some way. I was wrong, and I’ve spent a long time trying to address my biases and broaden my understanding. Barnes’ book is a spectacular resource.

[Daniel Mcgregor · Rating 2 out of 5]

In her book Minority Body Elizabeth Barnes in my opinion both makes a prescient observation, those with a physical handicap are onto themselves a minority population that is no better or no worse than any other minority, while also making her argument by means that are deeply disturbing and flawed. For full disclosure, I consider myself mildly disabled white man. I have hemispherical Cerebral Palsy which is by and large limited to my right hand. Over my 40 years on this planet I have had 8 surgeries on my hand. But my understanding and reading of this book is also seen through the lens of my personal faith— orthodox, evangelical, anglican Christian. Dr. Barnes writes, as evidenced from her work from a secular, postmodern narrative. Our differing points of view contrasts with one another in significant directions.
Barnes, rightly I believe, discusses the hermeneutical injustice that is a constant feature of those with a disability. I have been addressed in ways that discount or discredit my experience. “Well just act normal.” “Don’t be defined by your disability.” I have experienced bullying from one particular religious leader who insisted that I shake hands with my disfunctioning hand. He assumed that not greeting others with my broken hand was a sign of internal self loathing on my part. There is a reality, that one can not speak to a person’s experience of disability, and here we could extend it to any minority experience, unless one has lived it. My accomplishments and successes are somehow more stunning because I have a handicap. But in such a thought is assumed something about how little people expected of me in the first place. They assumed I was incapable of accomplishing “the normal things in life” because of my disability. There are assumptions being made by the abled majority about what it is and is not meant to experience disability. Not all parts of the disability experience as Barnes points out are necessarily all bad. There are ways in which disability positively shapes a persons life and outlook. From my own experience, I have a greater intuitive understanding I believe of other minority experiences. I can make the epistemological leap in a way many others are not.
I am grateful for her articulation disabled and abled are indeed shaped in much the same way by their bodies. In other words a man who stands 5’4” will not likely have a career in the NBA simply because his body dictates other choices. Our culture tends to over look and underestimate the importance our physical being plays in shaping life outcomes. Barnes makes clear that all of humanity is shaped by their physical, bodily existence.
In relation to this point is her excellent job at the beginning of her narrative of demonstrating how difficult a precise definition of disability is to articulate. One cannot simply declare that it is the absence of something, limbs or sight. For in doing so one eliminates those who like me have Cerebral Palsy whose limbs are intact but we can not control them. Even to include cases of CP and the like in our definition would still exclude those whose condition are temporary (epilepsy) or indeed invisible (lupus). Disability is far more complex than what it might first appear.
However the ease at which she conflates gayness and disable-hood seemed to me to undermine her argument. Not with standing an orthodox Christian view of human sexuality as condemning sexual relations and acts between two people of the same sex. Whatever the particular reality of gayness is, it has to be far more complex of a reality than mear physical disability. There seems to be both physical, emotional and environmental factors in a person’s sexual identity and behavior. That there are personal narratives that defy the majority gay story, see Wes Hill and Rosaria Butterfield, should give one pause. To not see that physical handicaps are just that, primarily physical with social and and behavioral issues arising primarily out of the reality of one’s physical condition seems misrepresent both minority groups.
Still further is the intellectual (and admittedly emotional) discomfort with her argument concerning her doubts with the idea of a ‘cure’ for disability. On the very next to last page Barnes quotes Chicago Disability Pride founder Sarah Triano. “Disability is a natural and beautiful part of human diversity. . . . Stereotypes the parade refutes by giving us a time and space to celebrate ourselves as we are.” And then in the final paragraph of her manuscript Barnes writes, “the point is not that there are no bad effects of disability. We are, all of us, limited by our bodies. . . .But the disabled body is a pathologized body. It’s a body that departs from the ‘normal’ in ways we assume are bad or suboptimal.”
I am tempted at this point to respond with a theological argument, and maybe there is simply no way not to object except on theological grounds. But even without a view of a ‘fallen’ or broken world, is in not safe to say that the world as it is, is not the world that we would hope it would be or even be one day in the future? Even as one needs to treat the disabled as a minority, one can not also treat the disabled as one would treat an a person with black or brown pigmented skin. It is not the dark skin tone itself that is hindering a person in society, it is societies reactions and actions toward the person with a dark skin that creates difficulties. A disabled person on the other hand is different. As Barnes points out there are indeed bad effects from the disability itself. From my own subjective personal experience even as disability has opened doors for me it has overall been something that has closed more than it has opened. Why then would we consider that which causes bad things in very specific ways to be ‘normal and beautiful?’ Please understand I am not calling the person with a handicap unnatural or ugly. I disagree that disability is value neutral as she here argues. Admittedly this simply may be a case of faith over philosophical speculation, but I will take it over Barnes’s noble but ultimately disconcerting argumentation.

[milo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Donc un livre de philo de théorie handi. Comme toujours avec la philo, on se demande pourquoi ça entre autant dans les détails pour exprimer des choses qui peuvent paraître évidentes (ici, qu'être handicapé n'est ni un mal ni un bien en soi), mais une fois plongé dans l'analyse, je trouve toujours ça intéressant car le raisonnement peut être poussé à l'extrême. L'autrice n'hésite pas à faire l'avocat du diable mais du coup déconstruit minutieusement certains argumentaires qui à première vue pourrait sembler cohérent. Le livre est relativement empowering, selon les chapitres (le dernier particulièrement) et personnellement m'a aidé à voir différemment certains aspects de mon propre handicap que je ne voyais jusque là qu'en négatif.
Par contre l'autrice use beaucoup d'analogies avec d'autres formes de discriminations (sexisme, homophobie, racisme) qui certes donne parfois des exemples parlants, mais qui d'autre fois mélange quand même des trucs qui n'ont pas vraiment à voir.
Ça reste un livre rapide à lire (si on a l'habitude du verbiage de philo) et plutôt intéressant. Ayant peu lu de théorie handi, j'aurais peut-être à terme un avis différent sur l'ouvrage cela dit.

[Jess · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was reading this for a specific purpose so mostly skimmed the parts not relevant to my needs (I'm not really into analytic philosophy). There were some sections where I wanted to ask the author follow up questions but mostly I appreciated her approach. Also really appreciated the introduction to Sally Haslanger's work!

[Citlali Sofie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brilliant thoughtful and funny! It really shifted my thinking and gave me epistemic tools to combat ableism. I love the emphasis on community for the definition of disability, it makes so much sense!

[Gilly Singh · Rating 4 out of 5]

This books looks to puts forward a compelling argument that the nature of disability, in its relation to non-disability, is that of a mere-difference rather than being a bad difference. Such an ideal flies in the face of common sense intuitions that, built into the nature of disability is the idea of a bad difference, of a lack of something or or some part of ourselves being broken.

Elizabeth Barnes argues her case very well and this v powerful idea leaves scope open for further philosophical investigation.

The Minority Body is an important work and, for anyone who has ever thought about the nature of disability, whether they have one or not, it would be a brilliant introduction to the world of disability pride and a more thorough conception of what disability is.

I would highly recommend this book if you find any of those discussions interesting.

It is also rather accessible for those who are not necessarily used to the academic language navel gazing common to other philosophical texts.

[Rambling Reader · Rating 4 out of 5]

as important as fricker's epistemic injustice and burdened virtues by tessman.

[Arthur · Rating 4 out of 5]

Elizabeth Barnes’ The Minority Body is a thought-provoking and refreshingly clear exploration of disability and its philosophical implications. From the start, Barnes challenges conventional perspectives, arguing that disability should be seen as a value-neutral difference rather than an inherent disadvantage. Her approach is rigorous yet accessible, making complex philosophical ideas engaging and relevant.

A New Perspective on Disability

One of Barnes’ central arguments is that disability is not necessarily a defect but rather a characteristic that marks membership in a minority group. She convincingly illustrates how disabled individuals often perceive their own experiences differently from how society views them—an insight that made me reconsider my own assumptions about bodily diversity.

Her discussion of epistemic injustice is particularly compelling. She highlights how disabled people’s testimonies about their own lives are frequently dismissed, reinforcing systemic biases. This aspect of the book was one of the most eye-opening for me.

Strengths and Areas for Improvement

Barnes strikes an impressive balance between philosophical depth and readability. Her critique of both the medical and social models of disability, and her proposal of a middle ground, is well-reasoned and compelling. She provides a solid foundation for rethinking how we conceptualize disability in philosophical and social terms.

However, I had some reservations. While I appreciated her argument for value-neutrality, I wondered whether it fully accounted for the experiences of those with degenerative or painful conditions. Can disability always be neutral, or does it sometimes constitute a genuine burden? Barnes touches on this but doesn’t explore it in depth.

Additionally, I would have liked more discussion on the practical implications of her theory. If disability is not inherently a defect, what does that mean for medical treatments, accessibility policies, and legal protections? These are questions that lingered after I finished the book.

Final Thoughts

Overall, The Minority Body challenged me to think differently about disability. While I didn’t agree with every aspect of Barnes’ argument, I deeply appreciated her perspective and the clarity of her writing. This book is an essential read for anyone interested in disability studies, ethics, or social justice. Thought-provoking, accessible, and philosophically rich, it’s a valuable contribution to contemporary debates on disability and identity.

Would recommend to: readers interested in philosophy, disability studies, and social justice debates.

[Zach Toad · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thrilling and tightly-argued philosophy! Barnes makes a strong case for the radical thesis that disability is a mere difference, not a disadvantage—that, in other words, disability comes at no intrinsic cost to the wellbeing of the disabled.

The argument, I think, relies too much on an assumed uniformity in testimony among disabled people and a similarly homogenous treatment of the category “disability” itself. There are just too many differences here to believe it’s all mere difference! We are also asked to believe that refusing to remove an infant’s disability is like refusing to turn a gay infant straight (assuming we had the capability). Barnes makes compelling arguments that the commonsense intuitions contradicting her view are not trustworthy. For me, though, none of her premises are as obvious as the commonsense intuition itself. Her view is a philosophy around which I don’t expect our descendants to converge.

But the book is still profound, touching on deep issues in every chapter: the metaphysics of “disability” as a category, wellbeing, intrinsic and instrumental value, goodness simpliciter, adaptive preferences, transition costs in becoming disabled, and the social importance of minority pride in the face of hermeneutical injustice. A pleasurable philosophical adventure, in accessible analytic language, to boot!

[Nelson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Essential. I've been teaching chapter 4 in a class for some time now, but am glad I made time to get through the entire text. The only reason this isn't five stars is that, despite some stirring passages that seem ideal for enlightening and motivating general readers, there are stretches of this that are necessarily difficult. Barnes's work is a tightly reasoned work of analytic philosophy and as such, offers some tough sledding for the general reader. Her central task has to do with forwarding a convincing argument that disability is not bad difference but mere difference. (Take that, Peter Singer.) I find the argument absolutely compelling. Barnes also builds persuasively on Miranda Fricker's work in Epistemic Injustice. Outside of the thornier passages of densely argued philosophical propositions, Barnes has a way with illustrative comparisons that make her conclusions absolutely clear. The final chapter on disability pride ought to be required reading everywhere. She also has a sense of humor and writes with clarity and flair in her summations. This is a great and important work of philosophy.

[Atta Zahedi]

Excellent read, it brings an in-depth but accessible approach to disability-centric philosophy. I appreciate the last chapter being about disability pride, the progression of the chapters is easy to follow and the last one helps end the reader's contemplation of the subject material on a high note. Highly recommend for anyone looking for a disabled person's logical reasoning for disability rights and a shifting of perspective on how disability can be neutral. The mere-difference methodology allows more nuanced takes on disability.

[Will Carlson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Read for my philosophy of disability class. Pretty interesting read. Definitely opened my eyes to things. I think Barnes is a solid enough writer although it often feels as if she repeats herself and reuses analogies. However, these things are pretty typical in a lot of philosophy so it doesn’t bother me as much as might someone else.

I would say this is probably a good introduction to the philosophy of disability, although maybe scan the SEP page before diving into this. It’s a pretty easy read at around 200 pages, plus it doesn’t generally have a lot of difficult to understand terms.

[Ava Kominski · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read this in my philosophy class. I thought that the topic was interesting, and it is definitely something that I want to read more about in the future, but I generally don’t enjoy the structure of philosophical writing, and there were parts of this that I found very boring and difficult to get through. This is why I could never be a philosophy major (my sincerest apologies to Sofia, if you ever see this).

[Bay Long · Rating 2 out of 5]

The core claim of the book seems to be that, if we take the testimony of the disabled people seriously and without epistemic injustice, there is no necessary connection between disability and well-being. I find this claim rather trivial. The book is written in lucid style, but sometimes tedious.

[Char · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this for my literature review for my PhD as recommended by my supervisor. This book, and the way we challenge how we view disability is immensely powerful, it challenges us to consider disability as a social identity as well as to consider disability as something as neutral, not bad.

[Rita · Rating 5 out of 5]

Love, love, love!

This is everything that philosophy could (should?) be. The perfect combination of metaphysics, epistemology, and a splash of empirical studies. This helped me so, so much with my thesis.

[Emily Cauduro · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very informative and I liked the different theories you used.

[Elisa · Rating 5 out of 5]

5/5

[Josh Curtis · Rating 4 out of 5]

Barnes wants to establish in this book that disabled people suffer epistemic injustice (as written about by Miranda Fricker) which does them real harm, due normative assumptions we have about disability. Her thesis is that being disabled is a 'mere-difference' rather than a 'bad-difference', similar to being a minority sexuality or race. Based on this, she aims to provide a theoretical foundation for the disability pride movement, which celebrates the features which most non-disabled people assume are intrinsically bad.

Going into this book, I was pretty skeptical of Barnes' ability to convince me. The idea that it isn't worse to be disabled than to be non-disabled is a pretty radical one for most people. But Barnes makes a thoroughly convincing argument, beginning with clearly defined, unproblematic premises, and then proceeding to give a theory of disability that follows from them. Importantly, at the very start Barnes spends 45 pages showing how common models and definitions of disability (both those employed by the general public, and those employed by many disability rights advocates) are insufficient for giving a consistent unifying philosophical account of disability that correctly identifies paradigmatic examples of both disabled people and non-disabled people.

The first half of the book is a lot of this kind of laying the groundwork for what comes later, and it pays off. The last half of the book is exciting to read because everything that has been discussed before comes together into a coherent whole, and important objections to Barnes' model of disability are powerfully refuted.

I recommend this book.

[Luke]

Pub 2016

[Mills College Library]

190 B2612 2016