Reminds me of Malala Yousafzai (sp?); everyone was excited to tell her story, but when she unabashedly called our presence in Afghanistan an occupation and came out as a (socialist? communist?) suddenly no one wanted to talk to her anymore or mention her name.
Teachers have held up Helen Keller, the blind and deaf girl who overcame her
physical handicaps, as an inspiration to generations of schoolchildren. Every
fifth grader knows the scene in which Anne Sullivan spells water into young
Helen’s hand at the pump. At least a dozen movies and filmstrips have been
made on Keller’s life. Each yields its version of the same cliché. A McGraw-Hill
educational film concludes: “The gift of Helen Keller and Anne Sullivan to the
world is to constantly remind us of the wonder of the world around us and how
much we owe those who taught us what it means, for there is no person that is
unworthy or incapable of being helped, and the greatest service any person can
make us is to help another reach true potential.”
To draw such a bland maxim from the life of Helen Keller, historians and
filmmakers have disregarded her actual biography and left out the lessons she
specifically asked us to learn from it. Keller, who struggled so valiantly to learn
to speak, has been made mute by history. The result is that we really don’t know
much about her.
Over the past twenty years, I have asked hundreds of college students who
Helen Keller was and what she did. All know that she was a blind and deaf girl.
Most remember that she was befriended by a teacher, Anne Sullivan, and learned
to read and write and even to speak. Some can recall rather minute details of
Keller’s early life: that she lived in Alabama, that she was unruly and without
manners before Sullivan came along, and so forth. A few know that Keller
graduated from college. But about what happened next, about the whole of her
adult life, they are ignorant. A few students venture that Keller became a “public
figure” or a “humanitarian,” perhaps on behalf of the blind or deaf. “She wrote,
didn’t she?” or “she spoke”—conjectures without content. Keller, who was born
in 1880, graduated from Radcliffe in 1904 and died in 1968. To ignore the 64 years of her adult life or to encapsulate them with the single word humanitarian is to lie by omission.
The truth is that Helen Keller was a radical socialist. She joined the Socialist
Party of Massachusetts in 1909. She had become a social radical even before she
graduated from Radcliffe, and not, she emphasized, because of any teachings
available there. After the Russian Revolution, she sang the praises of the new
communist nation: “In the East a new star is risen! With pain and anguish the old
order has given birth to the new, and behold in the East a man-child is born!
Onward, comrades, all together! Onward to the campfires of Russia! Onward to
the coming dawn!”
Keller hung a red flag over the desk in her study. Gradually she moved to the left of the Socialist Party and became a Wobbly, a member of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), the syndicalist union persecuted by Woodrow Wilson.
Keller’s commitment to socialism stemmed from her experience as a disabled
person and from her sympathy for others with handicaps. She began by working
to simplify the alphabet for the blind, but soon came to realize that to deal solely
with blindness was to treat symptom, not cause. Through research she learned
that blindness was not distributed randomly throughout the population but was
concentrated in the lower class. Men who were poor might be blinded in
industrial accidents or by inadequate medical care; poor women who became
prostitutes faced the additional danger of syphilitic blindness. Thus Keller
learned how the social class system controls people’s opportunities in life,
sometimes determining even whether they can see. Keller’s research was not just
book learning: “I have visited sweatshops, factories, crowded slums. If I could
not see it, I could smell it.”
At the time Keller became a socialist, she was one of the most famous women
on the planet. She soon became the most notorious. Her conversion to socialism
caused a new storm of publicity—this time outraged. Newspapers that had
extolled her courage and intelligence now emphasized her handicap. Columnists
charged that she had no independent sensory input and was in thrall to those who
fed her information. Typical was the editor of the Brooklyn Eagle, who wrote
that Keller’s “mistakes spring out of the manifest limitations of her
development.”
Keller recalled having met this editor: “At that time the compliments he paid
me were so generous that I blush to remember them. But now that I have come
out for socialism he reminds me and the public that I am blind and deaf and
especially liable to error. I must have shrunk in intelligence during the years
since I met him.” She went on, “Oh, ridiculous Brooklyn Eagle! Socially blind
and deaf, it defends an intolerable system, a system that is the cause of much of
the physical blindness and deafness which we are trying to prevent.”
Keller, who devoted much of her later life to raising funds for the American
Foundation for the Blind, never wavered in her belief that our society needed
radical change. Having herself fought so hard to speak, she helped found the
American Civil Liberties Union to fight for the free speech of others. She sent
$100 to the NAACP with a letter of support that appeared in its magazine The
Crisis— a radical act for a white person from Alabama in the 1920s. She
supported Eugene V. Debs, the Socialist candidate, in each of his campaigns for
the presidency. She composed essays on the women’s movement, on politics, on
economics. Near the end of her life, she wrote to Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, leader
of the American Communist Party, who was then languishing in jail, a victim of
the McCarthy era: “Loving birthday greetings, dear Elizabeth Flynn! May the
sense of serving mankind bring strength and peace into your brave heart!”'
excerpted from Lies My Teacher Told Me by James Loewen