Helen Keller is widely celebrated as a symbol of perseverance, education, and advocacy. Blinded and deafened by illness at 19 months old, she defied societal expectations to become a prolific author, lecturer, and political activist. Her journey—from isolation to Ivy League graduate and global humanitarian—has inspired generations. But as with many historical figures, a closer look at Keller’s beliefs reveals complexities and contradictions, particularly her support for eugenics, a now-discredited and deeply troubling ideology.
Understanding Keller’s views on eugenics requires placing them in the context of her time, examining how they aligned or conflicted with her other values, and grappling with the discomfort of admiring a figure who supported a movement that caused real harm. This exploration doesn’t diminish her accomplishments—it broadens our understanding of her humanity and reminds us of the moral ambiguities that can reside even in those we revere.
The Historical Context of Eugenics
To fully appreciate Helen Keller’s views, we must first understand what eugenics meant in her lifetime. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, eugenics was widely regarded by many in the Western world as a legitimate scientific approach to improving human populations. Rooted in evolutionary theory and social Darwinism, it sought to “improve” genetic quality through selective breeding and sterilization. Eugenics gained strong institutional and governmental support, particularly in the United States, Britain, and Germany.
In the U.S., eugenics intersected with policies on immigration, race, and disability. Forced sterilizations of people labeled as “unfit” (often poor, disabled, or mentally ill individuals) were justified under eugenic logic. These programs were endorsed by many prominent thinkers, including scientists, doctors, and progressive reformers. It is within this intellectual climate that Keller’s views were formed.
Helen Keller’s Advocacy and Contradictions
Helen Keller’s public image was that of a humanitarian—an advocate for the blind and deaf, a champion for workers’ rights, a suffragist, and a member of the Socialist Party. She protested U.S. involvement in World War I, supported civil liberties, and challenged capitalism’s dehumanizing effects. She also pushed for accessibility, education, and dignity for people with disabilities.
Yet despite these progressive positions, Keller expressed support for eugenic ideas that are, by today’s standards, alarming. In her writings and interviews, she sometimes suggested that preventing the birth of people with profound disabilities would benefit society. In a 1915 article for The New Republic, following a controversial case in which a severely disabled infant was allowed to die, Keller wrote:
“It is the possibility of happiness, intelligence and power that gives life its sanctity, and they are absent in the case under discussion. I think the mistake lies in the extravagant humanitarianism which has sentimentalized this case and others like it… Our puny sentimentalism has caused us to forget that the real disability is in the mind and spirit, not the body.”
She went on to argue that life without the potential for growth or happiness could justifiably be ended, and that society had a role in preventing suffering by curbing the propagation of “unfit” individuals.
These views, while not unique in her era, are stark in contrast to her advocacy for people with disabilities. They reflect a belief in degrees of worth, and a troubling line between those who, like her, overcame disability, and those who were perceived as incapable of doing so.
Reconciling Her Support for Eugenics
How could someone like Keller, who lived the struggle of disability firsthand, hold such views?
One explanation lies in the tension between her lived experience and the dominant scientific and philosophical paradigms of the time. Keller, an avid reader and thinker, was influenced by the intellectual movements of her age, including eugenics. She believed in human improvement and progress, values that were unfortunately intertwined with eugenic rhetoric in the early 20th century.
Additionally, Keller may have viewed her own success not as typical, but exceptional. In other words, she may have believed that most people with severe disabilities would not have access to the support she received or the opportunities she enjoyed. As such, she may have drawn a line—however unjustly—between those whose lives were deemed “worth living” and those who were not.
It is also possible that Keller’s privileged position—as a white woman from a well-connected family—shaped her perception of disability and worth. She had access to elite education, a world-renowned teacher in Anne Sullivan, and a network of supporters. These circumstances were extraordinarily rare, and Keller may not have fully recognized how much they contributed to her success, versus inherent traits of resilience or intelligence.
Legacy and Accountability
When confronting uncomfortable aspects of historical figures, there are two common extremes: uncritical veneration or harsh denunciation. But history, like humanity, is rarely that simple.
Acknowledging Helen Keller’s support of eugenics doesn’t require rejecting her legacy entirely. It requires a more nuanced understanding—one that celebrates her many achievements while also recognizing that her views contributed to harmful ideologies that marginalized countless people.
In doing so, we are reminded of the importance of vigilance in our moral reasoning. Ideas that are mainstream in one era can later be exposed as profoundly unethical. This recognition encourages humility and critical thinking, especially when it comes to public policy and scientific “consensus.”
Moreover, Keller’s story serves as a case study in how progress in one area—such as disability rights—does not automatically extend to all marginalized groups. It reinforces the need for intersectionality in advocacy, ensuring that efforts to uplift one group do not come at the expense of another.
What We Can Learn Today
The modern disability rights movement has rejected eugenics in all its forms. Activists now emphasize dignity, autonomy, and inclusion, challenging narratives that frame disabled lives as inherently lesser or burdensome. From campaigns against prenatal genetic screening bias to efforts opposing assisted suicide laws that disproportionately affect disabled people, today’s advocates fight precisely the ideas that eugenics once championed.
Helen Keller’s complicated stance on eugenics offers several lessons:
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Good intentions can coexist with harmful beliefs. Even admired figures can support unjust systems.
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Progress is not linear or uniform. Someone may be progressive on some issues and regressive on others.
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Context matters, but it doesn’t excuse harm. Understanding why someone held a belief helps us analyze it, but does not absolve its consequences.
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We must constantly interrogate dominant ideologies. Popular scientific or political views are not automatically ethical.
Conclusion
Helen Keller remains a towering figure in the history of disability rights and social justice. Her achievements, courage, and determination changed perceptions of what people with disabilities could accomplish. But she was also a product of her time—and her support for eugenics complicates her legacy.
Reckoning with this contradiction doesn’t diminish her—it deepens our understanding of her humanity and the moral complexities of the past. It challenges us to honor progress while learning from its flaws. In doing so, we ensure that our own pursuits of justice, equality, and science are guided not just by intellect, but by compassion and an unwavering respect for the dignity of all people.