Philosophers often think about normativity just when doing normative philosophy. When we decide it’s time to submit instead of revise, we often think we are done doing ethics. If asked to reflect on how a journal or conference review might be value-laden, we might think that the relevant principles should be those which guarantee fairness and impartiality. Unfortunately, the token phrase that has come to signal this process is problematic. “Blind review” perpetuates harmful stereotypes and singles out members of a particular group for disparate treatment. Worse, these members are one and the same of the stereotyped group. Much in the way that we have changed our language broadly to reflect similar issues with gender, race, and sexual orientation, we ought to be aware of the way in which metaphors based on disability, like “blind review,” are harmful. This is especially true if we want our field to be inclusive and our editorial processes to treat applicants equally.
It’s time for conferences and journals to use phrases like “anonymous” or “identity-hidden” instead of “blind review.” This metaphor sets back everyone’s understanding of disability and marginalizes those who are blind or have visual impairments.
People with disabilities a long history of disenfranchisement and stigma. When we use metaphors like “blind review,” we unintentionally perpetuate the abnormality and negativity of impairment, furthering an ableist culture. One might say that “blind review” process is supposed to be positive, just like when we say that “justice is blind,” we are speaking to the virtue of impersonality in justice. However, in these phrases, “blind” is meant to mean that a process is ignorant of features of an applicant, plaintiff, or defendant. Metaphors like “blind review” code to the lack of a function most have–a “blind review” is different than a regular review because a reviewer will knowingly lack information about particular things. This then conditions us to consider blind people as those who are lacking the ability to fully know the world, and this perpetuates negative stereotypes about blind people. If to be “blind” is to lack information, what does this say about the ability of blind people to live independently, parent, or contribute important work to philosophy conferences and journals?
Furthermore, this phrase makes impairment salient for those who have disabilities, which results in individual harm. A person who is blind has the potential to experience the phrase “blind review” in a way different from their sighted peers. People with disabilities certainly may experience their disability or impairment differently. But as Sara Goering states: “Impairment can be part of an individual’s identity, much as being female, or gay, or African-American is part of one’s identity…” [Sara Goering. “’You Say You’re Happy, But…’: Contested Quality of Life Judgments in Bioethics and Disability Studies.” Journal of Bioethical Inquiry. 5.2-3, 2008. p129.]. Being blind then, may not seem contingent or separate from a person who is blind–it is part of who they are. Most of us have the privilege of submitting to journals and conferences while focusing solely on what is being required of us, purely appealing to our identity as philosophers (and this can already be nerve-wracking). The phrase “blind review” can make salient aspects of a person’s identity, and the experience can be stilting; a blind colleague of mine says that blindness metaphors feel like suddenly her body is suddenly on display and being used so that someone else can make a point.
Even if people with disabilities have particular impairments, why should we be using impairments metaphorically, especially when our language is rich with other options? Some may argue that if we eliminate metaphors that refer to impairment, we risk of engaging in what Steven Pinker calls the “euphemism treadmill”–we just create another term, which then grows to also have a negative connotation. However, rarely do these new negative connotations come from metaphors; rather they come from the way we describe certain groups or individuals that continue to be negatively stereotyped. In this case, our use of “blind review” is wrong not because “blind” is an offensive term, but because using “blind” to indicate “unknowing” is harmful. I am not suggesting here that we rename “blindness” or any particular impairment or disability. Rather, we shouldn’t import impairments or disabilities into our language in order to convey a particular meaning. This task may be daunting, but the request for this one phrase is simple: we can just start saying that journals or conferences can pursue an “anonymous” or “identity-hidden” review process. Neither of these require the facts about real people’s bodies in order to make a point.
While writing this piece, I was made aware that Shelley Tremain raised a similar issue with language that the APA uses in its publications and website in 2011. It’s time now for all journals and conferences that promote philosophical progress ought to welcome applicants with disabilities and commit to not perpetuating harmful language.
Some may call a move away from “blind review” a form of vacuous political correctness or mere virtue-signaling, but in this case, signaling is actually part of a meaningful message: as philosophers, we take precision, harm, and diversity seriously. Furthermore, by making this small change, we make a corner of the world a little better, and we engage in not just in ethical research, but ethical practice. Everyone should be included and treated fairly when applying to conferences and journals. As a name for a process that evaluates submissions solely on merit, the phrase “blind review” should be dropped.
The author wishes to thank Morgan Leland and Carter Johnson for their help preparing the post.
Rachel Ades
Rachel Levit Ades is a fifth-year Philosophy PhD student at Arizona State University. She specializes in Philosophy of Disability and Bioethics. Her dissertation is on accommodations as a matter of justice.
