I Have A Dream For Disabled People

Fifty years ago today, Martin Luther King had a dream for people of colour in America.

Today, I have a dream for disabled people in Britain.

In 1995, we got our first Disability Discrimination Act. In 2007, we got our first disabled Prime Minister, Gordon Brown. Today, we have disabled Members of Parliament, disabled Lords and Ladies.

Yet we are still not free. Our lives are still  sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. We live on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. We are languishing in the corners of British society. We  find ourselves exiles in our own land.

So I find myself writing this speech to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense, I am trying to cash a cheque. When the Government of 1995 wrote the then-magnificent words of the Disability Discrimination Act, they were signing a  promissory note to which every disabled person in Britain was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all disabled people, yes, learning disabled people as well as physically disabled people, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that Britain has defaulted on this promissory note. Instead of honouring this sacred Act of British Law, our current Government has cut our benefits, leaving us with insufficient funds to survive- to eat and to drink.

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. Last year, in this very beautiful city, Paralympic athletes from all corners of our great planet gathered and put a bright spotlight on how much our people can achieve if given the opportunity.

So I have come to cash this cheque, a cheque that will give us upon demand the money to buy food and drink and to pay for the security of shelter. I sit in my beautiful hometown of London, writing this speech, in an effort to remind Britain of the fierce urgency my people are facing now.

Disabled people have no more time to  engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism.

Now is the time for our Government to make real the promises made to us when they were elected by democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of being seen as ‘benefit scroungers’ to the sunlit path of acceptance and understanding. Now is the time to lift our people from the quick sands of segregation to the solid rock of brotherhood with the mainstream. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God’s children.

It would be fatal for our Government to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of disabled people’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom from benefit cuts and equality in all areas of mainstream society.

Twenty Thirteen is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that I am just blowing off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the Government returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquillity in Britain until disabled people are granted their basic human rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining the benefits we need to survive we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds against our Government, our councils and ATOS.   Let us not seek to satisfy our need for suitable shelter,  our  thirst and hunger, by drinking from the cup of bitterness and eating from a plate of hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvellous new militancy which has engulfed the disabled  community must not lead us to a distrust of all non-disabled people, for many of our non-disabled brothers and sisters,  as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We must remember that we cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking us, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as disabled people like Jody McIntyre are the victims of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality.

We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, can no longer gain lodging in the homes that hold our memories because we lack the money to pay the Bedroom Tax. We cannot be satisfied as long as the disabled person’s basic mobility is from a two-bedroom home to a one-bedroom one.

We can never be satisfied as long as we are stripped of our selfhood and robbed of our dignity in institutions like Winterbourne View. Those institutions may need to exist, but we cannot rest until we ensure that they are properly regulated.

We cannot be satisfied as long as we believe that the Government for which disabled people are voting using our constitutional right of democracy is denying disabled people of the basic human rights of food, clothes and shelter by cutting our benefits and forcing us to leave our homes as a result of the Bedroom Tax.  No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until the Bedroom Tax is abolished and PIP is replaced once again by DLA.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow beds which you have left with great difficulty. Some of you have already seen your quest for benefits leave you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of ATOS cruelty. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Edinburgh, go back to Glasgow, go back to Cardiff, go back to the Welsh valleys, go back to Northern Ireland, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

  I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in my knowledge of the values of human decency.

I have a dream that one day the British Government will realise that in the eyes of God, all humans are created equal.

I have a dream that one day in an office canteen, disabled people working suitable hours and non-disabled people working full time will be able to eat lunch together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day British society, currently sweltering with the heat of injustice towards and oppression of disabled people, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice for all people.

I have a dream that disabled children will one day live in a nation where they will be recognised not by the make of their wheelchair or walking aid, not by the breed of their guide dog, but by the content of their character.

Martin Luther King had a dream fifty years ago. I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, in mainstream schools and in special schools, little disabled children and little non-disabled children will be able to join hands and learn and play together and from each other as sisters and brothers.

Martin Luther King had a dream fifty years ago. I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every building shall contain a lift, every staircase and kerb shall be made lower, every rough surface shall be made smooth, and all British people shall be able to walk our streets and go about our business together in safety.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I come towards the end of this speech with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to play together, to struggle together, to learn together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

Let ATOS leave Edinburgh!

Let ATOS leave Glasgow!

Let ATOS leave Cardiff!

Let ATOS leave London!

Let ATOS leave Belfast!

Let the Bedroom Tax be abolished by every council in Britain. Let DLA return to stay.

And when this happens, when the Bedroom Tax is abolished, when ATOS leaves every village, every town, every street and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all British people, disabled and non-disabled, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the people of Martin Luther King , “Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

Martin Luther King had a dream fifty years ago. I have a dream today.