Beyond Inclusion

In a world increasingly aware of its inequities, the call for inclusion often rings hollow. Mia Mingus reminds us that being “politely listened to” or offered a “quick fix” is not the same as being fully engaged. Her words challenge the superficial gestures of inclusion that leave marginalized people begging for scraps—Oliver Twisting their way into spaces that were never designed for them. True engagement, she argues, requires principled struggle, shared humanity, and structural transformation.

This critique resonates far beyond the realm of disability justice. It echoes in Judith Herman’s insistence that trauma cannot be held in isolation—it demands a social context that affirms and protects, one built through relationships and political movements that give voice to the disempowered. Herman’s insight reframes healing not as a private journey, but as a collective responsibility.

Similarly, Robert Sapolsky’s work on stress and inequality exposes the physiological toll of unjust systems. He writes that it should be “self-evident” something is wrong when society teaches its most vulnerable members that life is menace and helplessness. The biological consequences of inequality—chronic stress, anxiety, depression—are not just personal afflictions but symptoms of a sick social order. Sapolsky’s conclusion is clear: there is a social imperative to change the world, not just treat its casualties.

This imperative is taken up by Jean Stewart, Marta Russell, and Dr. Sally Wicher, who argue that we must dismantle the ideology of productionism—the belief that “work” defines human worth. Until we do, Wicher warns, equality will remain a myth, and oppression will simply be rebranded. Their vision is not just economic; it is existential. It asks us to redefine what it means to be human, beyond productivity, beyond utility.

Michelle Ciurria’s call for coalitional movements and transformational justice builds on this foundation. Drawing from Rosemarie Garland-Thomson, she contrasts inclusive world-building with eugenic design—systems built for the “ideal citizen” that erase everyone else. Eugenic world-building, she explains, operates through genocide, assimilation, and medicalization, enforcing conformity and punishing difference. In contrast, inclusive world-building embraces plurality, interdependence, and shared power.

Taken together, these voices form a compelling argument: we must move beyond token inclusion and toward structural transformation. This means: Designing institutions that center the lived experiences of the marginalized. Creating spaces where engagement is not conditional, but inherent. Building social orders that affirm worth beyond labor or conformity. Recognizing trauma, stress, and inequality as systemic, not personal failures. Rejecting the myth of the “ideal citizen” and embracing diverse ways of being. No longer asking for “more” from systems that were never meant to serve us. It means building new systems, grounded in justice, dignity, and shared humanity. Anything less is not inclusion—it’s performance.

Prejudice, Stigma, and the Struggle for Human Reciprocity

In a time when social and political reform often feels futile, Michael Sandel’s warning against moral resignation is more relevant than ever. He critiques a growing tendency to abandon projects of justice and instead focus on self-adjustment—repairing ourselves to better “fit the world” rather than repairing the world itself. This, he argues, is a concession to moral and political disempowerment, a surrender to the idea that our social roles and institutions are beyond reform.

This resignation dovetails with what Sandel calls a “eugenics sensibility”—a quiet but insidious belief that the world should be optimized for the privileged few, while the rest must adapt or be excluded. It is a worldview that abandons collective transformation in favor of individual compliance. In such a framework, difference becomes pathology, and stigma becomes policy.

Stigma is not merely a social inconvenience—it can be lethal. When knowledge about marginalized groups is absent or distorted, mythical versions of those groups fill the void, shaping the social imaginary in ways that justify exclusion and violence. We are taught to “see circles and find squares,” and then continue to see circles—a metaphor for the persistence of prejudice even in the face of contradictory evidence.

The Limits of Contact and the Depth of Structure

Gordon Allport’s contact hypothesis offers one pathway to reducing prejudice: equal-status interaction between groups in pursuit of common goals. When supported by institutions and framed around shared humanity, such contact can foster empathy and dismantle stereotypes. Movements like Standing Together, which unite Jewish and Palestinian citizens of Israel around shared struggles, exemplify this principle. But contact alone is not enough. When prejudice is structural, embedded in hierarchies of power and material inequality, interpersonal encounters cannot undo systemic harm. The deeper forces of occupation, exploitation, and exclusion will always overpower surface-level reconciliation unless they are directly confronted.

Reciprocity, Moral Status, and Social Death

At the heart of morality lies reciprocity and interdependence. When individuals are expelled from these reciprocal loops—when they are denied recognition, participation, and mutual care—they are stripped not only of rights but of moral status. They become, in the words of Orlando Patterson, victims of social death: alive, but excluded from the social fabric that affirms personhood.

Social death is not just a metaphor—it is a condition. It describes the erasure of culture, values, and shared meaning, the transformation of people into shadows within systems that refuse to see them. It is the endpoint of stigma, the consequence of a society that fails to affirm the humanity of all its members.

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