Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Understanding Disability
and Everyday Hate
Leah Burch
Palgrave Hate Studies
Series Editors
Neil Chakraborti, School of Criminology, University of
Leicester, Leicester, UK
Barbara Perry, Faculty of Social Science and Humanities,
University of Ontario, Oshawa, ON, Canada
This series builds on recent developments in the broad and interdisci-
plinary field of hate studies. Palgrave Hate Studies aims to bring together
in one series the very best scholars who are conducting hate studies
research around the world. Reflecting the range and depth of research
and scholarship in this burgeoning area, the series welcomes contribu-
tions from established hate studies researchers who have helped to shape
the field, as well as new scholars who are building on this tradition
and breaking new ground within and outside the existing canon of hate
studies research.
Understanding
Disability
and Everyday Hate
Leah Burch
Liverpool Hope University
Liverpool, UK
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature
Switzerland AG 2021
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Preface
While the writing of this book still seems to be surreal, the ideas and aspi-
rations that it is built upon can be traced back to my earlier introduction
to disability studies as an undergraduate student. I arrived at Liver-
pool Hope University in 2012 through the stressful process of clearing,
having failed to secure the grades to start a teaching degree. Tears, phone
calls, and a trip up to Liverpool secured my place to study Education
(Special Educational Needs). Although this was not my original plan, I
am thankful for the 18-year-old me who failed Physics and inevitably
helped me get to where I am now. Finding disability studies as an under-
graduate student enabled me to develop a sense of purpose, direction,
and personal awareness. While I was challenged to confront previously
held assumptions and question my belief systems, the fundamental values
of disability studies just made sense to me. Community, solidarity, and
support from those working in disability studies also gave me a sense of
security, something that cannot be taken for granted within academia.
No single moment marks the beginning or end of this book, but
there are certainly some that were critical to the early inceptions of
the research project that it is based upon. The most notable moment
v
vi Preface
disablist attitudes exist, yet they fail to capture the everyday reality of this
discourse for disabled people.
My next research project asked different questions about ‘disablist
hate speech.’ Moving beyond a recognition and contextualisation of
hate speech, I sought to explore disabled people’s experiences of this
phenomenon, narrated by their own personal stories. More specifi-
cally, the project sought to forge links between conceptual debates and
everyday realities in order to generate a more nuanced understanding
of disablist hate speech that is informed by and through lived expe-
rience. I employed storytelling as a research tool to create a safe and
exploratory space where participants could take ownership of oppressive
experiences and make meanings of these encounters in new and reflective
ways. These stories demonstrated the mundane and consistent nature of
hate speech, resulting in the normalisation of hate and the lack of confi-
dence to report experiences. In addition, participants commented upon
the vitriolic nature of austerity politics, which they believed had hard-
ened attitudes towards disabled people. Yet, they also shared some of
the intricate ways that they had begun to resist hate, calling upon the
educational potential of honesty and humour.
These small-scale research projects offered a brief insight into under-
standing experiences of disablist hate speech, with a particular focus
upon the context of austerity. At the same time, they raised a number of
questions concerning the ambiguous nature of hate, the blurry bound-
aries between everyday hate incidents and hate crimes, and the need to
better understand the complexity and realities of hate crime. Indeed,
they called for a more nuanced understanding of the ways that hate is
perceived, the way it harms, and the way that it is negotiated. This book
engages with these questions in more detail in order to present the ways
that hate is experienced, understood, and felt by those targeted. I draw
upon the stories that participants shared with me throughout my Ph.D.
research (ESRC, Grant Number ES/J500215/1) and in doing so, hope to
offer a more informative approach to thinking about hate crime within
the context of everyday life.
Writing this book is an achievement that would not have been possible
without the love, support, and patience of so many wonderful people
around me. My now husband, Chris, you have looked after me in so
many different ways, supplying endless cups of tea and coffee in the
mornings, cooking, making me hot-water bottles, and sharing late night
chats putting the world to right over a glass of wine. My two pups,
Lucas and Margot, for letting me snuggle up when I’m feeling needy
and making me laugh at all of your crazy antics.
Mom and Scott, you have been my rock throughout this whole
academic journey. I am so grateful to have such wonderful parents that
support me no matter what and are always ready to pick up the pieces
when needed. Sam, Ellie, Danielle, and Dylan. You guys mean the abso-
lute world to me and help me in ways that you’re probably not even
aware of. Being able to come home to you all on weekends has really
kept me going during the toughest times and you have been my biggest
supporters. Being your big sister is something that I feel incredibly lucky
to be and I will always cherish.
ix
x Acknowledgments
xi
xii Praise for Understanding Disability and Everyday Hate
“This text provides a vital and timely assessment of hate and hostility
in the everyday lives of disabled people. Their experiences are centred
and Burch examines the way that hate is embodied, how it circulates
to draw lines between people and can (re)define the self. There is a
powerful examination of strategies of resistance which make us ask ques-
tions about our reliance on policy and law to tackle hate crime. This will
become a key text in disability studies, criminology and social policy. I
look forward to recommending it to students and colleagues.”
—Dr. Hannah Mason-Bish, Senior Lecturer in Criminology, Co-Director
of Centre for Gender Studies, University of Sussex, UK
Contents
1 Introduction 1
Conceptual Ambiguities of ‘Hate’ and ‘Hate Crime’ 2
Disability, Space, and Everyday Hate 9
The Research Project 18
Outline of the Book 22
References 25
2 Disability Hate Crime and the Policy Landscape 33
Hate Crime Policy in England and Wales 34
The International Context 38
A Critical Reading of Hate Crime Legislation 43
Conclusion 54
References 55
3 Affect Theory and Circulations of Hate 63
Affect Theory and Affective Capacity 64
Affective Possibility 77
Conclusion 79
References 80
xiii
xiv Contents
Index 237
List of Figures
xv
xvi List of Figures
this book, which is developed by a focus upon its circulation within the
context of the everyday lives of disabled people. Indeed, crucial to my
own understanding of hate is a recognition of the way in which bodies
come to interact in particular ways, which is situated within, and shaped
by, surrounding space and context. These everyday interactions, as they
manifest as hate crimes, are underpinned by a continual negotiation of
self-identity and/against the ‘other.’ An understanding of othering should
therefore be central to the ways in which we conceptualise hate and hate
crime.
not only is the other different; by definition s/he is also aberrant, deviant,
inferior. Structures of oppression operate through a set of dualisms -
8 L. Burch
In this text, Quarmby argues that some disabled people have been
othered in a range of different ways—each turn of the century rein-
venting the point of otherness. This history is uncomfortable to reflect
upon, holding difficult stories of freakshows, asylums, holocaust exper-
imentation, and medical treatment (Sandell et al. 2005). Indeed, in
12 L. Burch
the UK, while no such programme existed, the sterilisation and incar-
ceration of disabled children and adults were widely enforced in order
to prevent the ‘multiplication of the unfit’ (Winston Churchill, cited
in Quarmby 2011, p. 57). The physical and symbolic positioning of
disabled people on the peripheries of modern society was, therefore,
particularly dangerous, and much contemporary disability hate speech
has been shown to recirculate these eugenic messages (Burch 2018). The
reproduction of these narratives allows extremely harmful attitudes to be
accepted when articulated within the context of economic cost or moral
philosophy.
While the practices associated with freak shows, asylums, and eugenics
are no longer present within society, it could be suggested that they
have been reinvented and revised in accordance to culturally significant
tropes of the modern day. In their everyday lives, many disabled people
‘are harassed, attacked, humiliated and even killed because their lives
are considered less valuable than other people’s lives’ (Quarmby 2008,
p. 8). In the Equality and Human Rights Commission [EHRC] report,
Hidden in Plain Sight, ten cases of extreme violence towards disabled
people are outlined. Among others, Fiona Pilkington and her children,
Frankie and Anthony, are said to have been subject to seven years of
harassment at their home and in their local school and community.
Following years of abuse by a local ‘gang of youths’ and over thirty-
three dismissed pleas to the police, Fiona made the decision to end the
lives of her and her daughter (Quarmby 2011). In another case, Keith
Philpott was murdered following false accusations of a sexual relationship
with a 13-year-old girl. Following threats from the girls’ family, Keith
was torturously murdered in his home. Steve Hoskin was murdered by
a group of adults who had taken over his home, and subjected him to
physical abuse and humiliation over a long period of time. On the day of
his murder, Steve had been forced to falsely confess to accusations that
he was a paedophile coerced into taking a lethal dose of paracetamol
tablets. Following this, he was made to walk to a railway viaduct and
forced over the railings. He then fell to his death as one of the perpetra-
tors stamped on his fingers forcing him to let go (EHRC 2011, p. 39).
In another case perpetrated by so-called ‘friends,’ Kevin Davies was killed
in 2006 by a group of adults who had held him captive in their garden
1 Introduction 15
shed, tortured him, stole his money, and fed him so little he became
malnourished (Quarmby 2008).
These are just four of the 10 cases included in the EHRC report and
only a snapshot of the violence regularly experienced by many disabled
people that are not included in this report. They present extreme cases of
violence and demonstrate an absolute failure of protective services. Yet,
such coverage excludes the mundane hostility experienced by disabled
people, and instead positions disablist hate crime as an ‘extraordinary
occurrence’ (Hollomotz 2012, p. 487). On the contrary, disability hate
crimes are part of a much broader set of exclusions and violence that
create and reinforce barriers for many disabled people in their everyday
lives (Roulstone and Mason-Bish, 2013). Thus, behind what we think
we know about hate crime from large-scale statistical evidence, or
media headlines, are a vast number of hate crimes that occur in the
everyday lives of many disabled people (Iganski 2002). Hate crimes
are not rare acts committed by extreme bigots, but, rather uncomfort-
ably, are committed by ‘ordinary people’ in our ordinary, everyday lives
(Chakraborti and Garland 2012; Iganski 2008). Reflecting upon the
findings of the EHRC 2011 report, lead commissioner of the inquiry
Mike Smith (EHRC 2011, p. 5) explained:
For me, two things come out of this inquiry that are far more shocking
than the 10 cases that we cover in more detail, awful as they are. The
first is just how much harassment seems to be going on. It’s not just
some extreme things happening to a handful of people: it’s an awful lot
of unpleasant things happening to a great many people, almost certainly
in the hundreds of thousands each year.
Indeed, while the cases described above present irrefutably horrific cases
of disability hate crime (although many were not prosecuted as this),
there remains to be a vast number of disabled people that experience
mundane acts of hate within their day-to-day lives. The nature of these
incidents vary, ranging from ‘banter’ to having photographs taken of
them while using public transport (Wilkin 2020), being spat at by
strangers (Healy 2020), name-calling, verbal harassment, and bullying
16 L. Burch
Not only can mundane incidents escalate to other types of violence, but
their accumulation can intensify the affects that they have. Any approach
that perceives these incidents in isolation is therefore limited in its ability
to account for the often persistent nature of disability hate crime. The
impacts of doing so are made clear in the tragic case of the Pilkington
family described earlier in this chapter.
The EHRC (2011) argues that the accumulation of everyday disability
hate can have a ‘drip, drip, nag, nag’ effect whereby the severity of inci-
dents is overlooked due to their normality. Thus, the everyday nature
of disability hate crime is detrimental to the way in which these inci-
dents are made sense of, both for the individuals involved and within
the criminal justice system. Sin et al. (2009), for example, argue that the
18 L. Burch
regular occurrence of hate crime within everyday life can mean that it
is often dismissed as a common experience rather than something that
is worthy of reporting to the police. For example, Collette, a partici-
pant from my previous research (Burch 2020a, p. 74), described these
incidents as ‘just another straw on the back.’ Similarly, due to so many
incidents happening on a regular basis, disabled people often report
finding it difficult to differentiate between mundane acts of discrimina-
tion, compared to those that would be categorised as a hate crime (Smith
2015). At times, this distinction becomes so blurred that even explicitly
hateful encounters are suggested to be underestimated (Brookes and Cain
2015). This anticipation of experiencing hate can become a reality for
many disabled people, demonstrating the urgent need to examine these
experiences of everyday hate more closely.
Where incidents are recognised as being hateful, many disabled people
(and victims of hate crime more generally) are reluctant to access
reporting services. As Raymond explained, ‘if I reported everything that
happened to me over the years, then I’d be doing not much else’ (Burch
2020a, p. 74). Supporting this, the findings shared throughout this text
suggest that while a range of hateful encounters are experienced by many
disabled people on a regular basis, the majority of these are not reported.
Due to this ‘everyday nature,’ current understandings of hate crime are
limited in the extent to which they can account for the diversity of
disabled people’s experiences, particularly as they exist within the struc-
tures and routines of everyday life. Indeed, while the under-reporting of
crime is a widespread issue, research suggests that the everyday nature
of disability hate crime can mean that experiences are neutralised and
downplayed by those targeted (Healy 2020).
hate within the context of their everyday lives. Developing beyond this,
I sought to explore the diverse ways that hate crime impresses upon, or
harms, those who are targeted, and to draw attention to the dynamic
ways that disabled people actively navigate and resist these experiences.
Throughout the project, I worked with six organisations based in the
Midlands and North-West of England. Organisations were selected due
to their interest in disability and/or hate crime and included disabled
people’s organisations (DPOs), disability charities, and peer-support
groups. While all organisations were connected by the above criteria, they
similarly centred around wider interests and more specific identity groups
(such as LGBTQ+ and learning disability). As such, the sample universe
across these organisations was broad and included members who identi-
fied as having a learning disability and/or a physical impairment. In total,
I worked with a much larger sample size than originally outlined (a total
of 71 participants). This was due to the flexible nature of the groups
that I was working with, as it was not possible to determine that number
of members who would be available to participate on the day. Fortu-
nately, the workshop setting allowed for the unpredictability of numbers
by accommodating for a larger number of participants than typical focus
groups might allow. Of this sample, 63 participants contributed to work-
shop discussions, and 20 took part in semi-structured interviews (12 of
which were also involved with workshops).
Having made initial contact with organisations via telephone and
email, I met with members during their usual meeting time and place.
During this informal meeting, I was able to introduce the research
project and get to know potential participants. We discussed a research
information sheet and I gave participants the opportunity to ask ques-
tions about the research aims and design in an open and conversational
way. All participants who took part in this research gave written informed
consent and were asked to choose their pseudonyms which have been
adopted throughout this book.
The fieldwork took part in three stages. Stage 1 involved arts-based
and reflective workshops that sought to explore participant’s understand-
ings of disability hate crime and gain a sense of any personal experiences.
Workshops, as opposed to traditional focus groups, were employed as
a means of enhancing the opportunity for collaboration and creativity
20 L. Burch
the diverse ways that hate crime is understood to ‘hurt,’ while simul-
taneously calling for greater appreciation of the ways in which hate is
negotiated, navigated, and resisted within the ordinary spaces of everyday
life.
Chapter 4 (Understanding and debating the concept of ‘hate crime’)
is the first chapter that draws directly upon research findings. In this
chapter, I explore the ways that disabled people came to understand and
articulate their experiences of hate. Indeed, in order to respond to the
disconnect between academia, policy, and reality, this opening chapter of
analysis re-conceptualises hate crime by engaging with participants own
reflections of the meaning of their experiences. In doing so, I explore
the range of terminology used by participants in order to help them
make sense of their experiences. Notably, I demonstrate the ambiguity
of hate crime described by many participants, and share their difficul-
ties in relating this ‘fuzzy’ concept to their own, everyday experiences.
Finally, I explore how intersectional understandings of hate can further
complicate the way that experiences are interpreted and made sense of
within the context of everyday life. To take these diverse understandings
into account, I reconsider the conceptual boundaries of hate crime and
suggest that as academics and policy-makers, we need to work towards a
shared language of hate crime.
In Chapter 5 (Geographies of disability hate crime), I explore the ways
in which participants reflect upon the spatial and temporal characteristics
of their experiences. In doing so, I ask questions about the ways that
hate can become an ordinary and anticipated encounter within particular
time-spaces. The chapter is organised according to different locations and
considers hidden spaces such as the home, institutions, and the school,
as well as more public spaces such as public transport and social hubs.
I explore how the structural and symbolic make-up of these spaces is
felt as uncomfortable and risky by participants, and uncover the ways in
which participants feel the surface of their bodies as fitting in or outside
of, these boundaries. Such an approach explores how relations with other
bodies, objects, and our surroundings can be felt, both during encounters
and in the future. Indeed, this chapter prompts a closer engagement with
the way in which hate can become stuck upon particular individuals as
it moves between bodies within social space. In addition, the chapter
24 L. Burch
poses further questions about the types of incidents that are, and are
not, included within the parameters of hate crime policy.
Chapter 6 (Impressions of Disability Hate Crime) presents the
different ways that hate can come to impress upon the bodies of those
targeted. Based upon participant reflections, I consider the range of long-
lasting impressions that are suggested to shape future navigations of the
social world. The impressions discussed in this chapter are diverse and
operate on a plethora of levels. By attending to the intimacy of these
impressions, I show how hate can harm the psycho-emotional well-
being of individuals who can come to see themselves (and their futures)
through the ‘markers’ and ‘scars’ of hate. Such impressions constitute
laborious identity-work as they impact the extent to which individuals
see themselves as fitting in, or out of, their surrounding world. Finally,
this chapter begins to unveil the laborious, time-consuming, and expen-
sive strategies that disabled people enact within their everyday lives in
order to manage or avoid hateful encounters with others.
Chapter 7 (Everyday Resistance and Collectivity) considers the diverse
ways that disabled people are actively navigating and resisting hate crime
within the context of their everyday lives. By calling attention to these
moments of resistance, self-empowerment, and ownership, it is recog-
nised that ‘the bodily self ’s interaction with his/her environment can
either increase or decrease that body’s conatus or potential ’ (Braidotti
2006, p. 241). Indeed, by attending to the ‘affective possibilities of hate,’
I show that while hate can become a part of day-to-day life, so too can
subtle forms of resistance and self-empowerment. Thus, in this chapter,
I also consider the way that disabled people come together to collec-
tively challenge hate crime, disrupt negative and disabling attitudes, and
provide a safe and supportive space for one another. By drawing attention
to the diverse ways that disabled people are already resisting hate, both
as individuals and as a collective, I suggest a range of ways that greater
collaboration with research can harness this further.
In the final chapter (Towards an analysis of the affective possibilities of
everyday hate), I reflect upon the findings presented within this text and
consider how they can help hate crime research move forwards. Notably,
I emphasise the responsibility of academics working in the field of hate
1 Introduction 25
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right arm or leg; the slightest attacks underneath the left of Nerv. and
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frothed at the mouth, bit his tongue, or a large cavity which
micturated in the attacks. In intervals contained a large
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up to a late period. Paresis of right limbs red serum, and also
came on with indefinite numbness of a tumor lying on its
right leg. Diffused headache, mostly inner side near the
frontal. No facial palsy; no anæsthesia. paracentral lobule.
Knee-jerk absent on left side and strong The tumor was
on right. Later, complete paralysis of connected behind
right arm and leg, with œdema. Violent with the falx cerebri
headaches, more to the left of the in the region of the
median line at the vertex; photophobia, paracentral lobule.
nausea, and vomiting. No neuro-
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contractures; bed-sores; semi-coma;
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followed by a rigor. After this fit paresis George Hosp.
of right arm and leg, with inability to In left hemisphere,
articulate properly. Could not raise the between anterior Rep., vol. ix. p.
affected arm, but could grip objects part of corpus 663.
weakly. Paralysis of right side of face striatum and
and tongue. Was quite rational. No loss “surface of frontal
of sensation. Later, violent headache, lobe.” The cortex
followed by vomiting. Slight amelioration over tumor and the
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