Deaf Flourishing 21
be situated in spaces “in between”—spaces of “not knowing,” of silence, of moving
beyond awakening, of multiple belongings, and of constructive internal potentiality
(see further in Chapters 6 and 8; also see Hoegaerts & De Clerck, 2016).
In a general sense, the concept of human flourishing appears to lack a robust
definition despite its application in theories of philosophy and ethics (e.g., Sandel,
2007), social justice and human development (e.g., nussbaum, 2006, 2010, 2012),
and psychology (Seligman, 2011; verhaeghe, 2012). Broadly, an approach to flour-
ishing aims to be a “capability approach” (nussbaum, 2006, 2012) that is empower-
ing in its recognition of human differences and abilities (van Regenmortel, 2008).
nussbaum’s notion of flourishing refers to what people can do and be, arguing for
a minimum threshold of needs that must be met for dignified lives. In Not For Profit
(2010), she advocates for the meeting of these needs through empathy, which re-
quires defining lives in terms of decency instead of economics.
A capability approach is also a focus on the quality of life. I have based this book
on the stories of deaf people’s lives, their range of experience, and their myriad
challenges. Although an emancipation movement can be observed, in most places
advocacy on behalf of deaf people’s quality of life is still necessary. But what is a good
life? This question has been explored by philosophers since ancient times. In the
shadow of ideal notions of identity, societies determine their own criteria for nor-
mality and deviation. Consequently, identity is closely related to ethics (verhaeghe,
2012). Deaf people do not live in a vacuum—they live in communities and societ-
ies—and meaningful social relations and networks have always been significant parts
of “a good life.” Blume (2012) bases an exploration of deaf children’s quality of life
on the notion advanced by Sen (2001), who has defined it in terms of the “freedom
to live different types of life”^ (pp. 30–43). A wide horizon of possible dreams is one
thing; to be able to pursue these dreams is quite another, as Blume relates:So, following Sen’s approach, we’d say that the fact that they can and do
dream of these things—as well as material comforts—indicates an increase
in the quality of their lives. But dreaming isn’t all that counts, as pointed out
earlier. The deaf child born in Africa may once have known nothing of these
things. Today, at least in some places, education and the spread of televi-
sion mean that perhaps he does now have access to these dreams. But these
dreams remain far beyond his reach. He cannot imagine what it would take to
make them come true. For many of our children in Europe they are at least
feasible goals, though the effort and dedication demanded may be enormous.
We need to think not only about the range of things that our children can
dream of, but also of what it takes to turn these dreams into life plans, and the
possibilities available to them for realizing those plans. (2012, p. 23)Blume emphasizes the responsibility of societies to lift horizons for deaf students,
the need to give them opportunities to pursue educational and professional en-
deavors, the role of parents in envisioning these transitional landscapes, the advan-
tageous resources deaf communities can offer in promoting deaf role models, and
the strength and skills community members require in order to face the obstacles
of exclusive societies.