An introduction to the history of the ‘d’ word
How Dis.abil.i.ty was shaped by history and society- Medieval England.
The ‘D’ word. Whether it fills you with an uncomfortable itch, a sense of pride at claiming it as an identity or is just a word to describe a group of people, the word ‘disability’ has had a long and rich history- just like disabled people. Though you may not realise this, disabled people have often had one-dimensional stories told about them- or rather, for them.
As language often does, the definition of "disability" as we understand it today has evolved significantly over time. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, "disability" today refers to a physical or mental condition that limits a person's movements, senses, or activities. This modern definition, however, masks a complex history rooted in varying social, religious, and legal contexts.
We aren’t going to begin at the start of history- though for as long as man has existed, disability has existed. There is a fascinating history of disability in pre-recorded history and through our ancient societies- rather, I would like to start at the latter end of medieval England/ early Elizabethan when the word ‘disability’ entered our language for the first time. The period was a major shift in attitude to disability, health and care. It precedes the Plague, one of the most mass-disabling events in history.
In this particular look, I’m also only focusing on the history of disability in England. Disability has many histories, many views and evolutions throughout the world’s cultures. To say that this is the only version, or the ‘right’ version would be erasing those stories
In England, the first recorded use of the term "disability" in history dates back to 1545, which signals to us a few ideas. The first is a shift towards a more specific categorisation of human differences. The second is how late medieval England began to grapple with the need to define and manage disabled people, and how society as a whole responded to it.
Dis + ability, 1545: A physical, mental, cognitive, or developmental condition that impairs, interferes with, or limits a person's ability to engage in certain tasks or actions or participate in typical daily activities and interactions. (Miriam Webster online dictionary.)
The definition appeared in a book by Roger Ascham, a royal tutor and author. What may be a surprise is that he was an archery teacher. In 1545 he wrote a book called ‘Toxophilus, Book 2. The Second book of the School of Shooting.’ A riveting read, I'm sure. But on page 137, book 2, we find the word ‘disability’. Now, it’s important to note that disability could have been in use earlier, he may just be the first person to have written it down, or his work was the earliest to survive.
“... and, secondarily, no man is debarred therefrom, except it be more through his own negligence, for because he will not learn, than any disability because he cannot learn. Therefore, seeing I will be glad to follow your counsel in choosing my bow and other instruments…”
Disability. Dis. Ability. An inability to perform a task due to an impairment. It looks like this definition didn’t catch on quickly to denote disabled people as we know it today. Instead, conditions that we now associate with the term were often described in other ways. (Trigger warning, some
of these definitions are now considered offensive and a slur.) Terms like "cripple," "leper," "blind," and "lunatick" were commonly used to describe people with visible impairments or mental health conditions. They reflected a fragmented understanding- a grouping of people with symptoms that outwardly appear the same, but we now know could be caused by many different conditions. These terms were also often rooted in religious and moral judgment.
We cannot separate religion and the state at this time in history, as the two are intrinsically linked. Having an impairment was often associated with a moral failing or divine punishment- a belief still held by many today. Despite the harshness of these labels, disabled people were not entirely marginalised. Many lived and worked within their communities, supported by family and local networks.
Support for disabled people was provided by the Church, and we see in the medieval period the first network of hospitals arrived in England. Often built near religious sites, such as abbeys, monasteries or nunneries, it formed part of the idea that it was the Christian duty to care for those who could not care for themselves. Specialised hospitals, catering to blindness or leprosy were also established. Perhaps the most famous of all ‘Bedlam’ marked the very first mental institution, from Bethlehem Hospital in the late 14th century in the City of London.
“The word hospital derives from the Latin ‘hospes’ meaning both host and guest and is rooted in the Christian obligation to shelter any stranger, particularly passing pilgrims. Gradually rules were introduced in religious establishments which expected the passing poor to spend one night only, but the sick were allowed to stay until they recovered, creating the early version of the hospital as we understand it today.” (2012, Disability in Time and Place, Simon Jarrett)
Leprosy was prevalent in England from the 11th to the 14th century, and those afflicted were often seen as both cursed and blessed. On one hand, lepers were believed to suffer divine punishment for sins; on the other, their suffering was thought to bring them closer to God, as they were enduring purgatory on Earth. Even in this time, people couldn’t decide how to view disability and would have been influenced by their upbringing and the thoughts of those around them.
To manage the growing number of leprosy cases, leper colonies—also known as lazar houses—were established on the outskirts of towns. These colonies provided care but also served to isolate lepers from the rest of society. Monastic orders often ran these institutions, focusing as much on the spiritual well-being of their residents as on their physical needs. The care provided in these colonies was rooted in Christian duty, reflecting the religious obligation to care for the sick and disabled.
Our understanding, however, of how this history has been recorded and passed down is beginning to shift. I highly recommend the book ‘Crypt’ by Historian Professor Alice Roberts. In her book, she details how Leprosy was more of a catch-all diagnosis for other skin conditions such as eczema or joint diseases like arthritis, and that though records suggest there was a huge stigma about the condition- that remains today- early graves suggest “these individuals appear to have been treated with respect and dignity in death.” On re-looking at translated texts, there has been the introduction of a more moralising tone than the original authors intended. We know that in Leviticus, biblical law states that “people with leprosy should live ‘outside the camp’” which medieval law reflected. But it also “stipulated that people with leprosy should be able to have their churches, priests and cemeteries.” with no indication that this condition was inherently sinful.
Professor Roberts goes on to explain the theory that leprosy is a condition that attacks the face, and we should instead look to the medieval perception of facial disfigurement, with attacks that damaged the face were treated extremely seriously, and accidental injury to the face was seen as the work of the devil. Still, there are odd cases to refute this or suggest the opposite, leading me to the conclusion that, again, disability and disfigurement have always been seen as uncomfortable and an individual’s views on it were influenced by their upbringing, teachings and moral view.
The model of care developed for lepers laid the groundwork for future social care systems, where religious institutions played a central role. This model persisted long after leprosy receded, influencing the development of hospitals and almshouses for the disabled and the poor. The separation of those with disabilities from mainstream society, coupled with the religious motivation behind their care, foreshadowed the charity model that would dominate disability care for centuries, written into law in the early 1900s, reinforcing a division between state responsibility and charitable care that continues in some forms today.
It is impossible to condense the next 500 years of history into a few more paragraphs, so I think I'll leave this portion of history here, and revisit this historical lens another time. King Henry VIII also has a lot to answer for with his dissolvement of the monasteries- we have, after all, just explored how vital they were to the care of disabled people.
There is also a fantastic history (at least, I think so!) of ‘taking the waters’ as a prescribed remedy for a multitude of conditions throughout the 18th century- and the major role the Industrial Revolution played in shaping our ideas of what it means to be a ‘productive member of society.’
We also have the evolution of healthcare in the UK in post-war Britain, the start of the welfare state, and into the 20th century as attitudes slowly started to shift and Disability Studies was created.
I think it's important to look at this history and learn and understand where our perception of ideas and the stories we tell ourselves have come from. How the past has influenced us, often without us ever realising, and ultimately gives us more awareness of the legacy we are leaving behind for the next era.
Until next time!