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Interdependence, Not Just Independence Thomas J. Neuville, PhD
In times of political turbulence, it is easy to believe that justice, fairness, and compassion are simply matters of government policy. Elect the right leaders, pass the right laws, and a more moral society will follow. But history, and our current reality, tell a different story.
We live in a moment when cruelty has been recast as strategy, when deliberate falsehoods circulate as governing tools, and when public services are being reshaped not around human dignity but around political gain. Consider the public arrests of immigrants carried out under the banner of deterrence. Consider the systematic dismantling of environmental protections, enacted to satisfy industry donors while ignoring the long-term health of our communities. Consider the erosion of public health through the suppression of science and the coordinated effort to suppress voting rights, not to protect democracy but to consolidate power. And consider the daily flood of misinformation, which sows division and erodes trust until truth itself seems negotiable.
From this soil not only does no moral system of services grow — it also produces something more corrosive: political violence. When lies and cruelty are normalized, when services betray the very people they are meant to serve, anger festers. People, stripped of trust and belonging, may turn to destruction as their only language. The disability rights movement has long understood this danger. Ed Roberts, remembered as the father of the Independent Living Movement, began with a vision of independence but later spoke of something deeper: interdependence. He argued that what truly sustains a community is not self-reliance alone but relationships, responsibility, and reciprocity. In his view, a moral society is one that supports everyone’s ability to live, work, and thrive on their own terms. Roberts spoke heart to heart, to the core of each person’s humanity, and showed how movements are built when one person dares to speak directly to the humanity of others.
Judy Heumann, another architect of disability rights, reminded us that change rarely comes quickly. It comes through years of people joining together, strategizing, sharing, and pushing every lever they can reach. At first, change feels painfully slow, but then suddenly something shifts, and what seemed impossible becomes reality. For Heumann, the measure of progress was never simply whether a building had a ramp or a bus had a lift. True inclusion required a culture that valued the full humanity of every person, without dismissing anyone as less than.
Theo Braddy, who leads the National Council on Independent Living, has spoken of the frustration with traditional agencies that presumed to tell people with disabilities how to live without ever sharing their lived experience. His warning is clear: autonomy is not a luxury but a matter of life and death.
A teaching from Jewish tradition reminds us of the scale of this work: you are not obligated to complete the task, but neither are you free to abandon it. None of us can carry the whole weight of building a just society, but each of us has a role, a responsibility, and a voice that strengthens the whole.
The late Wolf Wolfensberger once cautioned that no immoral society can produce a moral system of services. Such a society, he said, will not suddenly yield compassion or justice out of nowhere. A moral society must be built deliberately, through the daily moral choices of its citizens.
The lesson is unmistakable: governance reflects the values of the people it serves. When cruelty and deceit are tolerated, they will find their way into public systems. When dignity and inclusion are demanded, they will begin to take root in our institutions.
The antidote to political violence is not more violence, nor even more security, but the deliberate cultivation of moral citizenship. This was the work of Roberts, Heumann, Braddy, Wolfensberger, and countless others who insisted that services must be rooted in human dignity.
If we long for moral governance, we must begin with ourselves. It begins when we defend a neighbor maligned by prejudice, when we refuse to pass along a lie even if it benefits “our side,” when we demand that policies serve human dignity rather than political expediency. And it is reinforced when we practice justice in our own communities, until the demand for moral leadership grows too loud to ignore.
The stakes could not be higher. A society that abandons truth will find itself governed by lies. A society that tolerates cruelty will soon see it institutionalized. But a society that insists on dignity, compassion, and interdependence — one citizen, one choice, one act at a time — will eventually see those same values reflected in its governance. |
