A recent piece in the Washington Post by columnist John Kelly entitled “A Blind Eye Toward Guide Dog Discrimination” describes how landlords often try to prevent blind people with dogs from renting apartments. Of course the law is on the side of the blind–indeed, the ADA guarantees the rights of all people with disabilities to equal access. But what’s fascinating about Mr. Kelly’s column is that it highlights a problem we thought had been legislated out of existence years ago. Even before the adoption of the ADA in 1990 laws were on the books in all fifty states forbidding discrimination against blind people with guide dogs–especially in the provision of housing and access to spaces open to the public, and yes, the use of public transportation.
The first guide dog school in the US opened its doors in 1929 and laws protecting guide dog travelers have been firmly “on the books” since the 1950’s. So why are guide dog users experiencing so much discrimination in 2012? Why do I, as a guide dog user, feel I’m in the wrecked neighborhood of my civil rights? Flagging a cab in New York City is a nightmarish experience for guide dog users–thousands of drivers willingly avoid blind people with dogs–some drivers at cab stands, surprised by a blind customer will simply drive away. Though it’s against the law, it’s easy to do. Unless you have a sighted companion who can identify the cab’s medallion number or license plate it’s impossible to report the crime. And staying with New York for just a moment, I was denied access to a restaurant not long ago on Central Park South. Though the establishment apologized after the fact, they did so according to my threat of legal action. They sobered up quickly when they learned that I’m a professor in the Center on Human Policy, Law, and Disability Studies at Syracuse University.
Thee instances of guide dog discrimination are legion. Over the past four years I’ve read almost weekly about a blind citizen being denied entrance or housing, or transportation or what have you. How is this possible? Talking with blind friends I’ve heard multiple explanations: they don’t know the law; multiculturalism is part of the problem–many workers in the service sector hail from countries where there are no traditions of disability accommodations; we need more public education.
While all these explanations are useful I believe they only approximate the truth. The real answer has to do with the fact that blindness is a “low incidence disability”. There are only a million people under 65 in the US who are blind. How many guide dog users are there? The answer will doubtless surprise you: there are currently (approximately) 12,000 guide dog users in the United States. Why are there so few guide dog teams in a nation with so many visually impaired people?
The guide dog schools will say its because half the blind under 65 are almost automatically dog averse. This leaves a pool of some 500,000 potential guide dog users. Factor in those who are allergic to dogs; others who are alcoholics or drug abusers (that is, people who couldn’t care for a dog), and the number falls to 250,000 potential guide dog users. Then what happens? In a nation of vast spaces where it can be awfully hard to find rehabilitation services and reliable information, you may never get professional help with orientation and mobility training. “O and M” training is necessary for all blind people who want to live and travel independently and safely. There are actually thousands of blind people who don’t know how to navigate safely, who live in rural places, who simply imagine there’s nothing they can do. Many of them learned this hopelessness from their eye doctors. Ophthalmologists are famous for saying, “I’m sorry, there’s nothing more I can do” when confronted by the advent of incurable blindness. Many doctors don’t know how to direct a person toward services. A good friend of mine who is a world renowned eye doctor likes to say of these unfortunate patients: “They just go home, live in a shack behind the family farm, and give up.” So the number of potential guide dog users drops to a tiny and imprecise figure–a “guesstimate”–perhaps something like 200 people per state, only 10,000 possible guide dog teams per year. Of this number only something like 1500 learn about and receive guide dog training.
Finally there’s Occam’s Razor: the blind hear stories of nearly unending guide dog discrimination and decide it’s better to walk with a white cane. From my perspective as a veteran guide dog user, a man who has traveled to all fifty states and five foreign countries with three successive guide dogs, the advent of Occam’s Razor is the most heartbreaking possibility of them all. A guide dog is not a dog. She is something much more. She’s a reliable partner, one who is always up for adventure, who doesn’t have a conflicting appointment or a better social occasion on tap. She’s affectionate but focused, capable of preventing me from stepping into harm’s way. Imagine the personals ad you could place in the Village Voice: Wanted: nearly but not totally selfless life companion with enthusiasm, judgment, occasional disobedience when it’s in the interest of the partnership; able to guide blind person in strange places day and night, unflappable in fierce traffic, ability to problem solve in crises; ignores squirrels and dropped pizza slices, can handle escalators, revolving doors, subways, airplanes, helicopters, sailboats, and must have cold nose, floppy ears, and posses mucho hilarity when off duty.
Anything else? Dear America: these are the world’s most exceptional dogs.
Planet of the Blind 