Eddie Redmayne (right) as the young Stephen Hawking in “The Theory of Everything”.
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Stephen Hawking would not be Stephen Hawking if he had been born with his disability

The physicist is held up as an example of what you can achieve in life if you have a disability, but he was only diagnosed with motor neurone disease when he was 21 – his career was set in motion while he was still able-bodied.

Ask yourself this question: did you know that Stephen Hawking was only diagnosed with motor neurone disease at the age of 21? And if you’ve seen The Theory of Everything, can you honestly say you knew beforehand?

On the surface, pondering this may seem irrelevant. After all, the fact remains he is now disabled. But in honour of a man who has spent his whole life searching for the perfect equation, let’s respect for a moment that the order of things can hold vital importance, and lead to vastly differing conclusions.

This is certainly the case regarding perceptions of Stephen Hawking. The cosmologist was catapulted to worldwide fame following the publication of his book A Brief History of Time, yet it is sometimes easy to forget this sudden surge of recognition stemmed not only from his disability, but the small matter of theorising the nature of the universe.

I should know. Hawking’s career-defining book hit the shelves in 1988, and two years later I was born with cerebral palsy. By the time I had reached my formative years in primary school, society and those around me felt comfortable thrusting forward the image of Hawking, his wheelchair, and his genius as my source of inspiration. An anomaly blessed with extreme intelligence, the benchmark for what disabled people could achieve – transcending the tyranny of low expectation so readily shoved upon people in my position.

While this was no doubt well-meant – the widespread ignorance of the truth has twisted the man into something he is not. To be clear, Hawking gained his academic and scientific credentials whilst still very much able-bodied, even coxing one of Oxford’s rowing crews prior to transferring to Cambridge to complete his PhD thesis. Had he been disabled from birth, it is very doubtful he would have been given the same opportunity to establish himself.

Yet it is equally difficult to deny that Hawking’s work attracted such clamour precisely because his physical state and appearance juxtaposed the excellence of his work. Hawking’s doctor touched on the issue in his diagnosis. As the film’s dialogue puts it: “Your thoughts won't change, it's just no one will know what they are."

Of course, we now know speech synthesis has given Hawking new ways to continue to communicating, allowing the genius to shine through.  Even in today’s age of Google and Wikipedia, there is no other living scientist who is as instantly recognisable.

This battle of appearance over reality gets to the heart of the confusion over who Stephen Hawking is and how he ought to be explained. Long since anointed the founding forefather of “acceptable” disability, it is in fact his bright mind that gave him clout – way before he had motor neurone disease. By failing to recognise that Hawking’s success had nothing to do with disability, we give the disease undue credit for his perfectly able mind and outstanding scientific achievements.

This is even more problematic considering recent figures from the Office for Disability Issues, which found that four in five disabled people, like Hawking, are not born with their impairments. Despite this, they are still less likely to work full time, and similarly, less likely to be in high-level employment: 49 per cent as compared to 56 per cent of able-bodied people.  

And this is where the order of things becomes incredibly important. Hawking very nearly missed out on a First at Oxford, not due to lack of ability, but because of a failure to apply himself properly on questions and examinations he found too easy. The professors waived these indiscretions at his disciplinary undergraduate viva when they realised his potential.

Had Hawking been born with a disability, he would still have had this same potential – the same mind, daring, courage and thought, but he would have faced very different prejudices. It is likely that even the most basic access to advanced education would have been deemed out of the question, blocking the groundwork from which the mind-boggling theories emerged.

If in some parallel universe, I had the chance to go back in time and speak to my younger self and those thrusting Hawking’s wheelchair upon me, I would say this. Aspire to his levels of intelligence but do not judge yourself against them, and most of all, do not think it was his disability that made him great. He set in motion his achievements when he wasn’t disabled. While others may take you and your disability at face value, see yourself and your dreams as perfectly able. Stephen Hawking was still Stephen Hawking, wheelchair or otherwise. So are you.

Alex Taylor is on Twitter @ykts_net

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The Women's March against Trump matters – but only if we keep fighting

We won’t win the battle for progressive ideas if we don’t battle in the first place.

Arron Banks, UKIP-funder, Brexit cheerleader and Gibraltar-based insurance salesman, took time out from Trump's inauguration to tweet me about my role in tomorrow's Women’s March Conservative values are in the ascendancy worldwide. Thankfully your values are finished. . . good”.

Just what about the idea of women and men marching for human rights causes such ill will? The sense it is somehow cheeky to say we will champion equality whoever is in office in America or around the world. After all, if progressives like me have lost the battle of ideas, what difference does it make whether we are marching, holding meetings or just moaning on the internet?

The only anti-democratic perspective is to argue that when someone has lost the argument they have to stop making one. When political parties lose elections they reflect, they listen, they learn but if they stand for something, they don’t disband. The same is true, now, for the broader context. We should not dismiss the necessity to learn, to listen, to reflect on the rise of Trump – or indeed reflect on the rise of the right in the UK  but reject the idea that we have to take a vow of silence if we want to win power again.

To march is not to ignore the challenges progressives face. It is to start to ask what are we prepared to do about it.

Historically, conservatives have had no such qualms about regrouping and remaining steadfast in the confidence they have something worth saying. In contrast, the left has always been good at absolving itself of the need to renew.

We spend our time seeking the perfect candidates, the perfect policy, the perfect campaign, as a precondition for action. It justifies doing nothing except sitting on the sidelines bemoaning the state of society.

We also seem to think that changing the world should be easier than reality suggests. The backlash we are now seeing against progressive policies was inevitable once we appeared to take these gains for granted and became arrogant and exclusive about the inevitability of our worldview. Our values demand the rebalancing of power, whether economic, social or cultural, and that means challenging those who currently have it. We may believe that a more equal world is one in which more will thrive, but that doesn’t mean those with entrenched privilege will give up their favoured status without a fight or that the public should express perpetual gratitude for our efforts via the ballot box either.  

Amongst the conferences, tweets and general rumblings there seem three schools of thought about what to do next. The first is Marxist  as in Groucho revisionism: to rise again we must water down our principles to accommodate where we believe the centre ground of politics to now be. Tone down our ideals in the hope that by such acquiescence we can eventually win back public support for our brand – if not our purpose. The very essence of a hollow victory.

The second is to stick to our guns and stick our heads in the sand, believing that eventually, when World War Three breaks out, the public will come grovelling back to us. To luxuriate in an unwillingness to see we are losing not just elected offices but the fight for our shared future.

But what if there really was a third way? It's not going to be easy, and it requires more than a hashtag or funny t-shirt. It’s about picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves down and starting to renew our call to arms in a way that makes sense for the modern world.

For the avoidance of doubt, if we march tomorrow and then go home satisfied we have made our point then we may as well not have marched at all. But if we march and continue to organise out of the networks we make, well, then that’s worth a Saturday in the cold. After all, we won’t win the battle of ideas, if we don’t battle.

We do have to change the way we work. We do have to have the courage not to live in our echo chambers alone. To go with respect and humility to debate and discuss the future of our communities and of our country.

And we have to come together to show there is a willingness not to ask a few brave souls to do that on their own. Not just at election times, but every day and in every corner of Britain, no matter how difficult it may feel.

Saturday is one part of that process of finding others willing not just to walk a mile with a placard, but to put in the hard yards to win the argument again for progressive values and vision. Maybe no one will show up. Maybe not many will keep going. But whilst there are folk with faith in each other, and in that alternative future, they’ll find a friend in me ready to work with them and will them on  and then Mr Banks really should be worried.