by Gary Wunder
For a long time, we in the National Federation of the Blind have been thinking about change—the changes we have made, the changes we want to make in the future, and, more recently, how we preserve those changes and determine whether they are real or only perceived. The changes we focus on affect blind people and typically require shifts in societal behavior. Our hope is that these changes will evolve beyond mere actions and that they will influence people’s thoughts, emotions, and core beliefs.
Let’s start with some fundamental questions about change. How does it begin? I believe it starts when one or more people recognize something in their lives that they want to be different. A dialogue follows in which they work together to clearly define the problem and explore strategies and solutions. Is the problem rooted in people’s actions, institutional barriers, or both? If so, who are the key players? Will solving the problem require exposing the behavior of a few, prompting public condemnation of those individuals or institutions? Or is the issue shaped by widely held attitudes that must be changed on a broader scale?
Once we identify the problem, how do we present it to those whose help we need? This may include those directly affected and those who—whether they realize it or not—are part of the problem. After communicating the issue, do we need different approaches for explaining potential solutions? There may be multiple ways to address the problem, so before meaningful action can begin, we must decide which path to pursue. Then, we must consider strategy:
Consider, for example, the issues that led to the creation of the model White Cane Law. Blind people were frequently denied access to public accommodations—sometimes because of our canes but more often because of our guide dogs. What could be done? If we were to secure our right to move freely, legislation seemed necessary. But should it be a federal or state law?
The assumption is often that a federal law is preferable because it applies nationwide. However, there are times when a state-by-state approach is more practical. This was the case with the model White Cane Law. Jacobus tenBroek drafted a proposal and encouraged state affiliates to advocate for its passage in their home states. Over time, as various legislatures debated and refined the proposal, a common framework emerged: the law would guarantee blind people the right to access public spaces with a cane, a dog, or even the assistance of a sighted guide. It would protect our right to rent housing, ensuring landlords could not use flimsy excuses—such as a lack of first-floor availability—to deny us. It would affirm our right to ride buses, stay in hotels, and shop wherever we pleased.
In Missouri, where I live, it took us eight attempts to pass the model White Cane Bill. Frustrated by the difficulty of enacting a law that I was sure should not have been controversial, I once vented my frustrations to a couple of legislative friends. They interrupted me with a lesson in civics:
“No matter how good your cause, young sir, the truth is that we can’t give you anything without taking something away from someone else. It may be entirely justified for you to have the rights you seek, but rights don’t just appear out of thin air. When we give you the right to rent a hotel room, we deny the hotel owner the right to refuse you. The same is true for all the accommodations you see as natural and just. Now, I think we will pass your bill, but don’t assume that rights can simply be handed out freely. Every law is a trade-off, and that must always be part of our consideration.”
Eventually, Missouri passed the White Cane Law in 1977. However, laws are not self-enforcing. The only reason this law has remained meaningful is that blind people are willing to stand up for our rights and ensure they are upheld.
This brings us to a deeper question: does passing a law actually change the attitudes of those who once discriminated against us? In some cases, yes. The mere existence of the law may prompt people to reconsider their actions when they encounter a blind person. But I believe there is a significant difference between changing behavior—what people say and do—and changing what they truly believe.
I see this article as the first in a series exploring how societal change happens. We may examine different laws and how they came to be, but beyond the historical enlightenment lies the tougher question: when have we only modified behavior, and when have we transformed the underlying attitudes that made the law necessary in the first place?
A logical extension of this discussion is this: How do people form their beliefs, and why are they often so reluctant to change them? To what extent is this resistance rooted in the “hardware” of our brains, and how much of it comes from the discomfort of questioning what we think we know?
This may be the subject of the next article in this series. Alternatively, the next article may examine another piece of legislation, defining the problem, the strategy, the outcome we expected, and the reality we have found. But this conversation will only have meaning if you participate. Your letters and articles will shape the discussion. The goal is not to create a monologue but to foster an ongoing dialogue—one that challenges all of us to think critically about how real and lasting change occurs. If you find this conversation relevant, immerse yourself in it. Write to me at [email protected] or call at 573-268-4245. To borrow a phrase from the late President Johnson, “Come, let us reason together.”