Oscar Pistorius reacts after sentencing at South Africa's High Court on July 6. Photo: Pool
"We are ill-prepared to cope with a disabled man charged with murder," wrote Stella Young for The Drum, shortly after Oscar Pistorius was arrested for shooting his girlfriend Reeva Steencamp in 2013. Three years on, with Pistorius convicted and facing a paltry sentence of six years in prison, I believe she was absolutely correct.
As a disability rights activist, I've been following this trial with great interest. A lot has been made of Pistorius's privilege as a white, wealthy, celebrity athlete, and how this may have influenced the sentence, but his disability - the double amputation and prosthetic legs for which he is known - has inevitably been framed as part of his "inspiring" back story; the obstacle that defined the hero before the fall. As a result, we have largely failed to examine how our cultural understanding - or misunderstanding - of disability may also have inspired inappropriate leniency.
The implication that we might want to go easy on a murderer for the sake of the fans, disabled or otherwise, is nauseating, as is the idea that disabled role models are so thin on the ground that murderers will do.
Mainstream media likes to portray people with disabilities within a framework of tropes: we are inspirational, we are pitiable, or we are horror stories. All three narratives are harmful and objectifying in their own way, and erase the complexity of disabled people. They have also played an unfortunately significant role in our collective understanding of Oscar Pistorius as a disabled man.
Oscar Pistorius walks on his amputated legs during argument in mitigation of sentence by his defence attorney. Photo: AP
Pistorius was the 'supercrip', the Bladerunner, the man who overcame adversity to make something of himself and was all the more impressive for it. In a culture that deems ordinary acts such as leaving the house inspiring when achieved by someone with a disability (a form of infantilisation many with disabilities find endlessly irritating), becoming an internationally successful athlete garnered Pistorius unimpeachable hero status. Despite the swath of articles gleefully declaring Pistorius's pedestal to have been ripped from beneath him, there has been continued coverage of those who still want to believe, the disabled athletes and children (children!) who hoped their role model would not be convicted or punished too severely.
The sneaky implication that we might want to go easy on a murderer for the sake of the fans, disabled or otherwise, is nauseating, as is the idea that disabled role models are so thin on the ground that murderers will do, but these ideas have quietly persisted throughout the trial and sentencing.
The 'plucky hero against all odds' narrative also made it difficult for the prosecutions' depiction of an arrogant, ill-tempered, aggressive, gun happy, controlling, womaniser to make much headway. It just wasn't a good fit with the pre-established 'supercrip' ideal.
Disability activist Stella Barton, wearing a 'Piss On Pity' t-shirt at the Melbourne protest of Me Before You. Photo: Sarah Barton
The pity trope made its way into proceedings with Pistorius displaying himself without prosthetics during sentencing. Ostensibly, this move demonstrated how fear of an intruder may have made the disadvantaged defendant more likely to shoot anything that moved after dark (he still claims he never intended to shoot his girlfriend, despite being convicted of murder), but the sight of a man shuffling painfully on stumps served the dual purpose of implying Pistorius was simply unsuited for prison.
"Pity will play no part in this sentence," Chief Prosecutor Gerrie Nel insisted during the hearing, but looking at the outcome, it's difficult to come to any other conclusion.
But while Pistorius clearly pities himself, pity as a concept is much maligned in disability activism, to the point where "Piss On Pity" t-shirts are now proudly worn at rallies and protests. Pity has not been helpful to people with disabilities. By its nature, it objectifies the recipient as less than fully human, and engenders a kind of hopelessness that leads to inaction and supports the status quo of inequality. That Pistorius saw fit to actively court pity has made him especially unpopular with the rights activist set.
Even less popular with activists is the horror trope - the 'disability is worse than death' trope that was so adamantly rejected during the opening week of Me Before You. The ableist concept that life with disability is by nature unbearable was never outright stated during Pistorius's trial, but fear of disability is so deeply embedded in our cultural psyche that it could not have been far from the judge's mind. This idea not only diminishes our ability to perceive disabled lives as full and meaningful, it also gives men like Pistorius - dangerous, violent men - carte blanche to flout whichever laws they please with little fear of further consequence, because their very lives are already perceived as consequence enough. A precedent has been set here, and it's not a good one.
During the hearing, Pistorius did everything in his considerable power to reduce his sentence, but by actively trading on harmful tropes, he has broken the cardinal laws of disability rights activism. That he has done so in order to get away with murder makes his betrayal of the cause particularly heinous.
