Staying True to Our Mission While Respecting Our Differences
by Gary Wunder
The National Federation of the Blind is a diverse organization. We are bound by our shared belief in the capacity of blind people to live the lives we want, not by a shared political ideology. Among our members are Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians, Independents, and those who would rather not affiliate with any party at all. This ideological variety is not only expected—it is healthy. But it also means we must walk a fine line between being respectful of one another’s beliefs and being bold enough to speak when policies threaten the programs we rely on.
Some confusion arises when advocacy organizations like ours criticize policies promoted by political parties or public figures. It is not unusual for members to ask, “Are we attacking my party? Are we going after someone I support? Is this a place where I still belong?”
These are fair questions, and they deserve thoughtful answers. But in many cases, what may feel like an attack is actually a principled disagreement based on the organization’s priorities—particularly those grounded in the needs and rights of blind people.
We must learn to differentiate between criticism of a person or ideology and disagreement with a policy direction. If a proposed budget slashes funding for rehabilitation training, we are duty-bound to speak up. If Social Security is under administrative strain, making it harder for blind people to get answers to our questions or appeal incorrect decisions, we must say so. If key civil rights provisions of the Rehabilitation Act—protections hard-won in the 1970s—are threatened, then silence is not an option.
None of this should be mistaken for personal condemnation of any politician or supporter. Our role is to advocate. That means we have a responsibility to evaluate proposed changes and their likely effects, regardless of where they come from. If our advocacy seems pointed at times, it is because the stakes are high. The lives of blind children in public schools, blind workers seeking job training, and blind people navigating public systems hang in the balance.
This does not mean we throw respect and sensitivity out the window. On the contrary, we must be especially mindful of how we speak and write. We should not demonize those who disagree with us, nor should we reduce complex beliefs to slogans or caricatures. Mutual respect strengthens our organization and enables deeper discussion. But respect does not mean muting ourselves in the name of harmony.
We cannot allow fear of causing offense to paralyze our advocacy. If we believe a particular program or law is essential to our well-being, we must say so. If we think a proposed action—or inaction—will harm blind people, we must say that, too. Silence born of excessive caution is not neutrality; it is complicity in the erosion of hard-won rights and opportunities.
Our movement was not built on silence. It was built on a relentless push for recognition, fairness, and opportunity. That work continues today, and it often requires us to speak against the tide. We are seeing real and threatened cuts to library services that provide accessible books and materials to blind readers. We have seen threatened funding reductions in rehabilitation services on the grounds they lean toward emphasizing diversity and equity over skill and competence. It is not partisan to argue that these assumptions are not what our lives have shown us and that we stand for programs and services which are critical for training blind adults to live independently and enter the workforce. We have seen threats to the very civil rights language in the Rehabilitation Act that once opened doors that had long been locked.
We cannot sit quietly while these gains are chipped away—not for fear of offending a friend or fellow member, not because we happen to support other policies advanced by the same people proposing the cuts. Supporting a party or politician in a general sense does not require us to support every action they take. And standing against a particular policy does not mean we reject everyone who supports its authors. It means we are doing what we were formed to do: speak up when blind people’s rights, opportunities, and access are at risk.
Advocacy requires courage. It also requires trust: trust that we can disagree with one another in good faith, trust that we can examine policy proposals on their merits, trust that our membership can tell the difference between a policy critique and a personal attack, and trust that our common bond—the pursuit of equality for blind people—will remain stronger than our differences.
We must continue to press for policies that support quality education, meaningful rehabilitation, robust access to Social Security and other supports, and the enforcement of civil rights. These are not partisan goals. They are the foundation of a society in which blind people can thrive. Let us pursue them with all the clarity and vigor they deserve—respectfully, thoughtfully, and without apology.