Abstract

We embarked on the ambitious project of a Special Issue on ‘Education, Childhood and Disability in Countries of the South: Re-positioning the Debates’ with the intention of challenging dominant paradigms and making a contribution to educational discourse, childhood studies and disability studies informed by research and scholarly debates in countries of the South. We saw the need to present emerging research agendas, paradigms, methodologies and theories that illuminate the complex social, political and structural influences that shape the childhood of children with disabilities and their access to education and care. We want the collection of articles in this issue to engage scholars and researchers in reflexive critique of North/South dynamics that influence the construction and understanding of disabled children’s childhood and education in the global South. In this introduction, we highlight some key issues that in our opinion necessitate a focus on the South, issues which are different from the North, but issues which also require one to consider ways in which the North and South do connect.
We begin with a small note on the use of terminology in the Special Issue, specifically in relation to North and South. North/South terminology came to the fore in the 1960s and was popularised in the Brant Commission’s Report, ‘North-South: A programme for survival’ (1980), which highlighted the stark inequalities between the two blocks and proposed ways of redressing these. Over the years ‘North/South’ has become shorthand for highlighting the complex set of inequalities and dependencies between countries divided not by geographical boundaries, but by fundamental economic inequality. Significantly, most countries of the South also share the legacy of having been conquered or controlled by modern imperial powers, resulting in a continued legacy of dependency, poverty and exploitation. We do recognise that heterogeneity exists within these blocs, as rich social classes exist in countries of the South, and in the countries of the North, there is an underclass. There are also important differences between countries within each bloc, and some countries have been more successful than others in overcoming some of the disadvantages of their positions. Nonetheless, the core of the North comprises countries which were the imperial powers and now continue to be the major centres of global capitalism. These countries control key mechanisms of global economic and political decision-making. 1
The legacy of inequality generated by imperialism and sustained through unequal global progress has left the majority of children and youth with disabilities and their families in the global South living in stark conditions of inequity and deprivation in almost every sphere of their lives, including education and health care. Barnes and Sheldon (2010) argue that poverty and underdevelopment are not merely the outcome of disabling attitudes and discrimination but also of structural inequalities, social processes and practices that entrench oppression in the global South. However, the epistemological assumptions underpinning many international policy interventions do not support the emergence of a knowledge base which is reflexive of these deeply embedded inequalities and structural imbalances. As Meekosha and Soldatic (2011) note, international agencies, such as the World Bank, and universal human rights instruments fail to address key issues such as distribution of wealth and power between rich and poor countries.
Given this, it is not surprising that the assumptions underpinning the current discourse around disability in the South tend to be monolithic, where representations of the lives of people with disabilities are commonly constructed as backward, victims of society, neglected or hidden away (see, for example, Swain and French, 2014). Such representations allow for the perpetuation and legitimatisation of discourses which then call for the liberalisation and emancipation of people with disabilities in the South on the basis of the ‘enlightened’, ‘civilizing’ work of Northern scholars and agencies. There are close parallels here with colonial ‘civilizing missions’, representing as ‘help’ what was often just new means of domination (Grech, 2011). Within such homogeneous representations, there is little regard or felt need for constructing a deeper understanding of the lived realities of people with disabilities in the global South. The irony of many such texts is that they fail to acknowledge how current practices steeped in a medical and/or charity discourse are themselves the outcome of colonialism which brought church organisations and western medical professionals to the fore, who promptly segregated people with disabilities from their families and communities, and, in the process, undermined the legitimacy of traditional ways of caring and interdependence (Ingstad, 2001). Another case in point here is the construction of the notion of disability itself.
Undoubtedly, disability is a hugely debated and politicised issue, especially in relation to how it is defined. However, the models which frame these discussions are exclusively anchored in the industrialised, liberalised and individualistic scripting of the North. For instance, one of the core concerns of the global disability rights movement has been to contest the process of medicalisation, and to replace it by – or at the very least, complement it with – the social construction of oppression and marginalisation. A central thrust of the movement has been on shaping disability not through a medical lens, but placing a strong focus on social oppression (Oliver, 1990). A focus on the impairment–disability divide has been regarded as appropriate, given the socio-political and cultural discourse on identity and embodiment in the North. But these ideas have also dominated discourses around disability in the South. Meekosha and Soldatic (2011) provide a strong critique of the relevance of such a focus in the South. They argue that there is a need for acknowledging that impairment is not always ‘natural’, but it is often the outcome of deeply politicised processes of social dynamics in bodies that then become medicalised and then normalised through a raft of moral discursive and real practices. The issue here is not restricted to the consequences of using uranium-tipped bombs on fertility and reproduction in Iraq (as pointed out by Meekosha and Soldatic), but also in the continued malnourishment of millions of children in the South, leading to stunted growth and so on.
Another important point of departure is the construction of disability in individualistic terms. Goble (2014) in acknowledging how ‘the disabled’ has become constructed in Northern discourse notes that The significance of what occurred in the shift to industrialisation wasn’t the creation of dependence so much as the rise to dominance of an ideological context in which being dependent on others came to be seen as problematic in ways it had not been before. The rise of capitalism broke down pre-existing systems of solidarity and inter-dependence that had sustained many disabled people in society … (p. 32)
The consequent struggle for the disability movement in the North has thus become focused on the individual and his or her relationship with the state. This individualistic orientation is further strengthened with current neo-liberal ideologies. While such a voice of dissent within the Northern disability context is interesting to note, it is significant how such a model of disability when transported to societies which are organised differently, many of which continue to operate in traditional, agrarian and collective ways, then position and construct disability.
Few within disability studies have reflected on the ramifications of this transposition. Here, Das and Addlakha’s (2001) notion of ‘connected body-selves’ is very useful as it first links the physicality of the body to an individual’s identity and experience, and second, the meaning of personhood is fused to a network of other body-selves (p. 527). Thus, it is important to note here that in the South, the individual with disabilities cannot be simply disassociated from the family or other collective units. Rather, disability has a cascading impact on these units as a whole, to a greater or lesser extent. Thus, in order to understand a person with disability, we need to also take into account his or her familial positioning, role, and so on. For example, while access to school for children with disabilities is an important concern, less emphasis is placed on how having a sibling or a parent with disabilities might compromise another child’s schooling and push him or her into adult carer roles. In his research, Hoogeveen (2004) noted a significant education deficit in Ugandan households headed by a disabled person, as children in these households received less education. While this deficit could be attributed to children being pushed into adult carer roles, it could also be due to the reduced ability of the household to afford school fees because of the direct costs of disability.
Reflecting on this connectedness in his research, Lwanga-Ntale (2003) noted that there is a greater likelihood that the ‘currently disabled are more likely to pass their poverty on to their children’ (p. 7). This deprivation is not restricted to financial terms, but it is also likely to be the case that in managing their day-to-day survival, poor families with a disabled member do not have as much time to build social networks (or have different, possibly truncated ones) and hence have fewer mechanisms of support and limited social capital (Singal, 2007). Similar to Moore’s (2001) analysis of the (limited) intergenerational transfer of financial/material capital, socio-cultural capital and socio-political capital among poor families, it is important to note that these mechanisms would also hold true in relation to disability.
Additionally, Grech (2008) stresses that the linkages between poverty and disability should be conceptualised as an association situated in context rather than one of cause and effect, and therefore, the dynamics and subtleties of this relationship in the global South require deeper analysis. It is important to also acknowledge that the collective can sometimes work in pernicious ways, where a range of intersecting factors such as an individual’s social status, socio-economic position, human and social capital (both of the person with disabilities and his or her significant others) are inevitably intertwined, and can result in completely different experiences and opportunities. For example, the status of a dalit lower caste) women with disabilities in an Indian village is likely to be different from her upper caste peer. Thus, understanding the centrality of the relational to the experience of disability in the global South is crucial and must be included in any research design and indeed policy intervention.
Aligned to the above argument is the reality that discourses of disability in the global South have grown to be largely deficit oriented. The pattern in debates has been a focus on ‘what is lacking?’ and ‘what does not work?’ without any acknowledgment of the strengths which can be built upon. A challenge for many of the above-mentioned monolithic constructions is evident in research studies emerging from a deeper contextualised analysis of disability in the South. For example, Mutua and Swadener (2011) note that when people with disabilities are living in households and communities facing abject poverty, the resources available to them – food, clothing, education and income – are, in fact, not significantly different from the limited access to resources shared by other members of their household. In more recent work, Singal et al. (2011) found evidence that schooling years completed by young people with disabilities in impoverished households in parts of India were equal to and in some cases even higher (for certain types of impairments) than their non-disabled siblings. Similarly, Mutua and Swadener (2011) in their large-scale mixed-methods study of social and cultural constructions of disability in Kenya noted that responses of family members with a child with disability ranged from them describing the child as having a deficit (lack of something) to treating them as different, but not necessarily regarding them as disabled. Interestingly, they noted that impairments did not always result in adverse effects on family relations. Rather, in some cases, children with physical disabilities who had visible markers of impairments were not considered disabled if the impairments did not interfere with their ability to carry out age-appropriate chores and tasks.
Two studies in this Special Issue by Muthukrishna and Ebrahim, and De Sas Kropiwnicki illuminate the self-efficacy, resilience and agency of caregivers, especially mothers, and the protective networks of support within families and communities that children with disabilities inhabit. These studies suggest that the collective can offer ways of being resilient in the face of exclusionary and oppressive challenges posed by social institutions.
Human rights and disability: Claiming space for the collective
In the last two decades, the principles of human rights have been embraced by most governments of the South, as is evident in various policies and legislations. Their endorsement and ratification of the United Nations (UN) Convention of the Rights of the Child, 1989; UN Standard Rules on the Equalization of Opportunities for Persons with Disabilities, 1993; and Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, adopted by the UN General Assembly in 2006, have provided a strong impetus in this regard. From a human rights perspective, disability is seen as violation of the social rights of people with disabilities and their families. However, the lack of political will of governments to realise these rights, the limited monitoring and accountability mechanisms and the capabilities of individuals, families and communities in contexts of poverty to mobilise politically and access rights in the face of material and structural barriers are contentious issues in Southern contexts.
The above notion of rights has also been contested on the basis that it is underpinned by values and assumptions of the North, therefore bringing into question its relevance for countries of the South. Chataika and Mckenzie (2013) draw attention to the fact that the reproduction of beliefs and values of the North has resulted in the marginalisation of African knowledge systems and cultural norms and values. In this regard, they explain that the South African concept of Ubuntu (humaneness and common good) reflects the collective rather than the individual. The key argument is that an exclusive focus on individual rights is questionable in contexts that have a strong collective culture.
Grech (2009) asserts that in families and communities in contexts of poverty and underdevelopment, and where survival depends on social networks, individual rights may pose a risk to community stability and solidarity. Also important to recognise here is that with a rapidly growing middle class in many countries of the South, widening social inequality and the fracturing of extended families and networks as a result of poverty and other social risks such as the HIV/AIDS pandemic, have threatened collective social mechanisms. Nonetheless, researchers in a range of contexts have shown that experience of disability reflects the ‘collective’ (e.g. Chataika and Mckenzie, 2013; Fazil et al., 2004; Gona et al., 2010; Hartley et al., 2005; Nabawy Ahmed Moawad, 2012). Yet, most human rights instruments reflect a universalistic, individualistic concept of rights and rights-holders, whereas for many indigenous peoples and many minority groups in Southern contexts, including people with disabilities, their identity as an individual is most likely linked to the collective. For example, An-Na’im (1998) discusses how disputes around social and political issues such as access to quality education, language policies and representation of minorities are collective in nature rather than purely individual. Thus, Jovanovic (2005) and An-Na’im (1998) argue that it is critical to take into account both collective and individual rights when examining contraventions of human rights.
We contend that the notion of collective rights in the context of networks and cultural bonding of nuclear and extended families, neighbours, friendship groups and other social networks, such as faith organisations, non-governmental organisations and disability organisations, must always be considered important to any debate on disability rights in the global South. In fact, empowering families of children with disabilities and the networks of social support that surround them through advocacy and other support is a significant dimension of the notion of human rights in the global South.
The point we make is that when concepts and discourses such as human rights are disassociated from the complexities of local contexts, their relevance is directly drawn into question (Ghai, 2002; Grech, 2011; Katsui, 2006). This lack of attention to examining the lived reality, from a localised standpoint, contextualised within the social, cultural, temporal and economic spaces that people with disabilities occupy in the global South is currently the biggest challenge to policy development. The papers by Richard, Muthukrishna and Ebrahim and De Sas Kropiwnicki, Elphick and Elphick show that nuclear and extended families, and community structures such as non-governmental organisations, faith-based organisations, and not the child alone, experience the social, political and economic impact of disability, arguing that disability is a collective experience – hence the significance of collective agency and collective rights.
Inclusion/exclusion in education: Shifting the debates
As mentioned above, there is a slowly emerging critique of the Northern hegemony in constructing disability and the proposed global responses to associated issues. The field of disability studies is slowly seeing the need and significance of a Southern theory of disability, which powerfully locates the increase in impairments in the global South to the interrelated processes of colonialism, capitalism and globalisation.
However, these debates are yet to inform discussions and deliberations in the field of education, particularly in relation to the education of children with disabilities. A review of the dominant texts in inclusive education from the United Kingdom, over the past decade or so, reveals the paucity of engagement with the material from the periphery and the continued perpetuation of a homogeneous discourse, primarily framed under the cloak of inclusive education. We would argue that this discourse has failed to reflect on the educational realities of the South and/or acknowledge the growing evidence which highlights the need for a localised construction of educational policies and programmes.
An in-depth critique of the Northern debates shaping global educational policies and their assumptions are yet to permeate the field of inclusive education. As academics, we have at various points strongly advocated the implementation of inclusive education both within our national contexts and more broadly within Southern contexts. However, as our journeys have evolved, we have become more critical of the naïve transfer of toolkits and indexes, developed by Northern-based academics, funded by international organisations, who have little experience of realities of schools in the remotest and rural parts of deprived communities in many developing economies. These seemingly visionary texts/packages on developing inclusive schools are underpinned by assumptions that inclusion requires to be implemented in the same way across national contexts. Such an approach is disempowering (and has proven itself to be) for many people, teachers and policy makers in the South, who are caught in the vicious web of trying to strive for goals and markers of success that are framed by donor organisations influenced by such rhetoric (King, 2007).
It is interesting that a global movement that emerged out of a concern for inclusion has created an exclusionary educational discourse, wherein by critiquing the established doctrine of ‘inclusive education’, one is inevitably seen as being aligned against human rights and equality. Unfortunately, only a few Southern-based researchers have begun to question this in education and even fewer are reflecting on ways in which there can be a better documentation of strengths in the system that can be built upon.
Furthermore, what also goes unacknowledged in most of the debates reproduced in Southern contexts is the lively critique of inclusive education in countries such as the United Kingdom, which are central in shaping the international agenda. Farrell (2010) provides a useful critique of inclusion in the UK context. While we do not sign up to the binary between special and inclusive education, which is assumed in Farrell’s book, rather, we propose a more fluid examination of the relationship between these settings. More usefully, we would like to argue that the agenda of repositioning that we propose in this Special Issue must exactly be that – looking for a third space for reconstructing and re-visioning the education of children with disabilities in Southern contexts. Inclusivity, in community and education, is a cultural product that has unique and specific configurations depending on its spatial and temporal contexts. Mutua and Swadener (2011) note, for example, that, in many cases, Kenyan parents made an active decision not to send their child with disability to school, not because of neglect or deep seated resentment but because of the uselessness of formal education even for their able-bodied children.
The time is right to critically question a rigid vision of what schooling should look like for children with disabilities. The need is to challenge the hegemonic assumption that there is one desirable progression towards contemporary ‘developed’ spaces (Porteus, 2008). Inclusive education continues to be propagated as the solution, even though it is based on ‘a set of globally-generated, validated and disseminated assumptions about the educational needs of students’ (Le Fanu, 2011: 5). Armstrong et al. (2009) acknowledge that ‘the growth of “inclusive education” in the developing world … in part reflects the export of first-world thinking to countries which reinforces dependency’ (p. 12). In this issue, the research note by Maudslay re-iterates the importance of the above debates in the context of the evolution of inclusive education policies and practices in Nepal. Miles, Merumeru and Lene, in their analysis of inclusive education in the Pacific region, argue strongly for a locally situated inclusive education approach that draws on the strengths and capabilities of indigenous communities and makes tentative and informed use of conceptualisations of inclusion from the North. These researchers call for the integration of a rights-based inclusive education agenda with indigenous inclusive ethics and values.
It is worth noting that the issue is not simply about propagating the possibility of inclusive education in resource-poor countries. Rather, there is a strong argument for questioning if the current (political and moral) association with inclusive education does prevent people from examining alternatives to a new reality and if it silences people from asking the central questions of inclusion into what and inclusion for what purposes. By posing the former question, there is greater likelihood of acknowledging the developing nature and real concerns faced by mainstream education systems in many Southern contexts (Singal, 2014). Here, it is important to remember that these countries often have systems with low overall educational indicators, wherein concerns are about teacher attendance not qualification; the focus is on basic teaching skills not on developing innovative pedagogical approaches, and concerns are about the scarcity of accessible and clean lavatories, and not high-tech laboratories. Additionally, these countries are burdened with the baggage of colonial legacy and pressures to respond to a globalised era. Unarguably, the approaches adopted to respond to concerns of children with disabilities must also acknowledge such disjunctures.
Research undertaken with young people with disabilities, who had grown up in communities with few resources and in families with minimum parental education, but had attended both special and mainstream schools, highlighted the significant value these youth placed on the role of special schools and teachers in their lives (Singal et al., 2011). These young people narrated accounts of how in these settings they had learnt essential basic life skills (such as self-care, etc.), developed their literacy and numeracy skills through appropriate equipment (such as Braille), had strong adult role models (such as blind teachers) who helped develop an awareness of their rights and how they grew confident in spaces which acted as safe zones of learning and friendships. Such insights highlighted how, for first-generation learners, coming from families which struggled with daily living, schools had played a central role, which extended beyond delivery of the formal curriculum. However, these young people also stressed the need that there should be opportunities for transitions from such special settings to mainstream schools in later years in order to broaden individual capabilities and opportunities. Being poor is a reality for many people with disabilities in the South (Department for International Development [DfID], 2000) and lack of state interventions makes the situation even more complex – the school, special or mainstream, thus occupies an important space for inclusion. This raises issues not simply about fixed structures, but also the fluidity of spaces, that is, can ‘value free’ transition points be developed across educational settings which do not stigmatise learners. Also, it raises important questions about how to provide a space for expression of difference without compromising on the minimal level of opportunity and quality of education.
Research in India, over the past few years, has highlighted the growing confusion and dissatisfaction among teachers, parents and young people with disabilities in relation to the education system (e.g. Pachigar et al., 2011; Parasuram, 2006; Singal et al., 2011). However, there are also some powerful enablers within the setting which must be recognised, as these have fostered the growth of the education system, and have enabled the framing of powerful legislations. It is only when we truly begin to develop a deeper appreciation of the context and make efforts to understand individual and collective stories that we can open up the moral and political space for effective educational reform efforts, rather than putting in place fragmented solutions. Education of children with disabilities cannot be removed from concerns in the broader education sector. A report by the Policy Action Group on Learning (PAG-L) (2010) provides a very useful critique on the narrowing of the global Education for All (EFA) agenda and proposes a global architecture to promote effective EFA. Among other things, the report argues that the focus should be on local solutions, with respect for context and recognition of solutions that come from within. Thus, central to this enterprise is a need to move from focusing on deficits and gaps to identification of assets.
Re-thinking disability research agendas
It is only in the recent past that those engaged in disability research have been challenged to interrogate the epistemological assumptions that they bring with them to the research endeavour (Chataika and Mckenzie, 2013; Dewsbury et al., 2004; Mira, 2012; Singal, 2010; Stone and Priestley, 1996). The medical or psycho-pathological model of disability continues to operate in pervasive ways within research agendas (Miles and Singal, 2010). It is our contention that what is needed is a sociological analysis into the complex and nuanced ways in which the experience of disability is constructed and shaped within social and political spaces. Research methodologies, conceptual and theoretical frameworks also need interrogation to enable a shift to approaches that illuminate the personal, social and political lives of people with disabilities.
In this regard, we draw attention to conceptualisations of children and childhood and how these have influenced discourses of disability and childhood globally. In the last three decades or so, there has been an emergence of a new paradigm that conceptualizes childhood as a social construction (James et al., 1998; Prout and James, 1997). Traditional models, rooted primarily within the field of psychology, have framed children as passive, immature and incompetent to hold views or make decisions about issues in their lives (Christensen and James, 2000; Mayall, 2002). From the lens of the new sociology of childhood, children are viewed as active social agents who shape the structures and processes around them, particularly at the micro-level, and whose social relationships are worthy of study in their own right (Prout and James, 1997). In the traditional conceptions of childhood, children with disabilities have faced even greater marginalisation in that they are constructed in terms of their mental, physical, cognitive and social deficits. Since they are framed as functioning below the norm, spaces are never created for their voices to be heard, and often parents, caregivers and families are silenced by adult experts in their lives. In countries of the South, their voices are seldom heard in matters that affect them, such as social policies, services and educational provision.
However, as Schneider (2009) points out, there is growing influence of the new sociology of childhood on research paradigms related to children with disabilities and their childhoods. This shift has shaped new perspectives on the constructions of children and youth with disabilities who are now more likely to be seen as social actors in their own lives. In view of the above debates, Curran and Runswick-Cole (2013) note that there is a need for an explicit call to adults to listen to the views of disabled children and youth.
Participatory research with chidlren with disabilities in Southern contexts is encouraging (e.g. Kembhavi and Wirz, 2009; Muthukrishna, 2013; Van der Riet et al., 2006). These studies raise important questions related to ethics, methodology and the theory of knowledge that inform disability research on the lives of children in the South: What assumptions about children, childhood and disability in the South does the researcher bring to the research? Who is in control of the research process? How can children with disabilities engage as active partners in research? Are children’s voices heard in research undertaken in the global South? What research methodologies and methods are most appropriate for exploring collective accounts? How can researchers create spaces to illuminate subjective realities? These studies also point to the need for more research to examine the complex, multifaceted and nuanced ways in which childhoods are historically, culturally, socially, politically and economically constructed and shaped, and the centrality of power within these intersectionalities.
Several articles in this Special Issue recognise youth and children as social actors who have important views on issues that concern their lives. For example, the article by Richard is based on research undertaken with children with cognitive disabilities and their families in the rural Himalayan region of India. The voices of children and their families provide valuable insights into how a form of inclusion that is locally contextualised enables the realisation of children’s well-being within families. Richard discusses how interacting with children revealed tensions between the individualisation of the child in global inclusive discourse and the cultural context of the child being placed within a larger family and extended networks. Wickenden and Kembhavi in their article present two participatory research projects with children and young people with disabilities in India and Sri Lanka, and show that they can be active participants in research rather than passive objects of adult gaze. Similarly, the book review by Schoeman highlights the need to forefront the views of children with disabilities, to understand their ‘childhoods’.
Research undertaken by Rule, Chappell and Dlamini indicates that it is possible to conduct participatory research with children and youth in the South that adheres to strong ethical practice and is grounded within a humane approach underpinned by respect. Taking a reflexive stance, their article raises critical issues that underpin research with youth, in particular misconceptions surrounding disabled sexualities in the South African context and the competence of youth with disabilities in undertaking research. Muthukrishna and Ebrahim argue that narrative inquiry is a powerful method for collecting data as stories are central to people’s experiences and realities. Based on their epistemological stance that disabled children’s childhoods are socially constructed, these researchers prioritised the voices of mothers of these children. The study emphasises that disability research in the South needs to give space to present the authentic and subjective realities of disabled people. The continued perpetuation of essentially negative images of disability in the global South needs to be constantly challenged.
Also in this issue, Nguyen and Mitchell stress that epistemologies are critical to research in the area of inclusive education as they serve as a conduit to interrogate research questions and research relations – the power dynamics of who is included and excluded in institutional reform, social policies and the nature of social change. In their article, the authors argue for a more complex theoretical and methodological framework to research the exclusion of girls with disabilities – a framework that allows for an analysis of the intersection of gender and disability from historical, cultural and political perspectives. In their research, the authors show the potential of an intersectionality perspective to unravel how the identities of girls with disabilities in Vietnam are constructed within social, political and educational policies.
Concluding reflections
The process of intellectual decolonisation that Meekosha (2011) talks about needs a deeper recognition of the pervading inequalities which we are all a part of; the need is to not only recognise the cultural and political dominance of the global North but also to acknowledge that existing schemas in the North are inadequate for making sense of Southern realities. Such top-down approaches can be viewed as part of the colonialising agenda that fail to capitalise on conceptions of inclusiveness that are embedded in the daily practices of rural communities.
So the issue that comes to the forefront is how to reconstruct and reposition local knowledge. Canagarajah (2009) warns of the dangers of myopic entrapment of the local, and reflects on some clear ways of moving forward in practice, which involve deconstructing established knowledge to understand its local shaping. He argues for reconstructing such knowledge for local needs and interests, but where local knowledge is not seen to be of relevance only to local needs, but also thinking of a reconstructive process which creatively redefines the disciplinary paradigms of the mainstream. This also involves critiquing traditional knowledge to unravel its own limiting influences from caste, religion and other contexts of production.
Canagarajah (2009) asserts that ‘A clear grounding in our location gives us the confidence to engage with knowledge from other locations as we deconstruct and reconstruct them for our purposes’ (p. 253). The need is to include a range of critical perspectives on disability, development and education to gain a deeper understanding of the challenges facing people with disabilities in the global South. A major barrier to such a vision is the very act of academic publishing, which acts as a gatekeeper for legitimising what passes for established, worthy knowledge. Academic journals, particularly those with high prestige in almost every discipline are published in English language and from Northern locations, and for various material and discursive reasons end up representing a narrow circle of Northern scholars. While, on one hand, one could argue that there is a tendency for writers from the South to engage in self-censorship (Jeffery, 2014; Meekosha, 2011), there is also the issue of the lack of applicability of Northern theories to their contexts. It is common to find subtle pressure being exerted within academic circles to look for conceptual and theoretical fit to real-life issues and research insights within existing Northern hegemonic discourses (something that is very familiar to one of us, who sees it happening on a regular basis among post-graduate students within her institution). However, these issues remain unacknowledged, and there continues to be an appropriation of a certain kind of knowledge.
As we provide space for alternative discourses in this issue, we also realise that tackling this issue through a Call for Papers is simply a very small step. For instance, even though we widely publicised our Call and generated a lot of interest in Southern-based colleagues, the enthusiasm and support for this task did not always translate into a paper. Here, negotiating the established conventions of research writing was a significant obstacle for many. Equally important is to acknowledge that academic publishing does not hold the same rewards (such as Research Excellence Framework [REF] submissions in United Kingdom) in all contexts (Jeffery, 2014); thus, the motivation to commence this arduous journey is something that not all researchers are willing, or indeed motivated, to undertake.
We make no claims of having put together a comprehensive collection of Southern voices. We do not desire to make any universal claims and fall in the same trap of the current hegemonic global discourse that we set out to critique. What we hope is that this Special Issue makes a useful and much needed contribution to the field of disability, childhood and education. We are confident that the contributions in this Special Issue open up a much needed space for dialogue and the framing of a new agenda.
Footnotes
Funding
This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, commercial or not-for-profit sectors.
