It's Christmas, I have ten spare minutes per day, and I'm re-reading a few classics. John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men is the one I've just finished, roughly 20 years after my first rodeo, and it has sparked some reflections on disability discrimination (I was a fully abled biped the first time I read it, and my perspective was understandably different). It's a classic, so the following synopsis is more for my own benefit should I ever actually get to write this paper than for anyone else's. The book revolves around the story of two itinerant labourers, George Milton and Lennie Small, who harbour a shared dream of attaining independence through land ownership. Lennie is a man with a cognitive disability, and he depends on George for guidance and protection. However, this relationship is rendered tragic by society's lack of understanding and accommodation for Lennie’s condition. While much has been written about Steinbeck’s commentary on marginalisation, friendship, and the American Dream, his treatment of Lennie provides fertile ground for examining disability discrimination through a legal and literary lens. When viewed in the context of legislation such as the CRPD or the Equality Act, Of Mice and Men offers a powerful critique of how legal and social systems have historically failed to protect persons with disabilities. Lennie Small, in particular, is a compelling literary figure whose very existence in the narrative highlights the vulnerabilities of persons with disabilities in a hostile world. His cognitive impairment is not diagnosed within the story, but it is nonetheless manifested through his inability to process abstract concepts, control his physical strength, or interpret social situations appropriately. These traits place him in constant peril, particularly in the unforgiving context of itinerant ranch work during the Great Depression. Lennie’s dependence on George shows a stark reality: without agency, persons with disabilities are left to rely on personal networks, often at the mercy of those who may or may not (and may or may not want to) understand their needs. Steinbeck’s depiction of Lennie, therefore, serves as a critique of the absence of institutional structures capable of safeguarding the dignity, autonomy, and basic rights of individuals with disabilities.
The treatment Lennie receives from the characters he encounters on the ranch further underscores his vulnerability in a society that views disability through a lens of prejudice and fear. Curley’s immediate antagonism towards Lennie is rooted in his perception of Lennie as both a threat and an anomaly, underscoring society's impulse to ostracise those who do not conform to normative standards of behaviour. Similarly, Curley’s wife, who herself experiences marginalisation due to her gender, manipulates Lennie’s innocence to exert a brief moment of power, only to suffer the tragic consequences of her actions. Even well-meaning characters such as Slim, who expresses a degree of sympathy towards Lennie, ultimately fail to intervene in ways that might protect him. In this sense, the book shows how society's attitudes towards disability are not merely passive, but actively contribute to the isolation and endangerment of individuals like Lennie.
The climactic moment of the story, in which George kills Lennie to spare him from the brutality of a lynch mob, raises profound questions about justice, mercy, and the limitations of the law. In the absence of any protective framework, George’s act is presented as the only humane option, albeit one that is fraught with moral ambiguity. From a legal perspective, the lynch mob’s pursuit of Lennie underscores the systemic failures of a society that not only neglects to protect persons with disabilities but also subjects them to extrajudicial violence - whether physical, psychological or both. This lack of faith in formal justice systems reflects the historical reality of the 1930s, a period in which legal protections for disabled persons were virtually non-existent. Lennie’s death, therefore, is both a personal tragedy and a broader indictment of a legal system incapable of recognising or addressing the needs of its most vulnerable members. Of Mice and Men also offers a sobering reminder of how far legal systems have come (and how far they still have to go) in addressing disability discrimination. The Equality Act, which consolidates and extends previous anti-discrimination legislation in England and Wales, aims at protecting individuals from discrimination based on a range of characteristics, including disability. In particular, the EA establishes a duty for employers, service providers, and public bodies to make reasonable adjustments to accommodate the needs of disabled individuals, thereby promoting equality of opportunity. Had such a framework existed in the world of Steinbeck’s book, Lennie’s life might have been markedly different. His inability to conform to the expectations of society would not have been treated as a moral failing or personal inadequacy, but rather as a condition requiring reasonable accommodation. However, while the Act mandates reasonable adjustments, it often falls to persons with disabilities themselves to assert their rights, a burden that can be insurmountable for those who lack the resources or capacity to activate the remedies offered by the law. Lennie’s dependence on George is a great example of this unfortunate dynamic, with George acting as an informal advocate in the absence of any institutional support. This reliance on personal advocacy is emblematic of a broader failure of society and communities to provide systemic protections for persons with disabilities, a failure that persists in many contexts today.
Lennie’s story also highlights how disability can interact with other forms of marginalisation: Steinbeck portrays a broader landscape of discrimination that also encompasses race, gender, and age. Crooks, the Black stable-hand, and Candy, the ageing ranch worker with a physical disability, are both marginalised in ways that parallel Lennie’s experiences, and their struggles also underscore problems faced by those whose identities intersect multiple axes of discrimination. Legislation such as the Equality Act have begun to address such intersectionality, but significant gaps remain in the law and in society in general. Lennie’s experiences, when viewed in this light, remind of the need for a more holistic approach to disability law that recognises and addresses intersectional discrimination.
Steinbeck’s book also invites a broader reflection on the attitudes in society that underpin disability discrimination. The fear, pity, and hostility directed towards Lennie are not merely the product of individual prejudice but are deeply embedded in the cultural and social fabric of his time. These attitudes that dehumanise disabled individuals continue to manifest in contemporary society, often in subtler but no less harmful ways. The Equality Act tries to promote a culture of inclusivity and respect, but it is evident that legislation alone cannot eradicate deeply ingrained biases. Can literature help complementing legal efforts to combat discrimination?