Although France has never had a great reputation for providing access for the disabled, I had assumed that its museums would be an exception. Having temporarily moved here to help care for my father who uses a wheelchair I have been sorely disappointed.
As a historian he has always taken an interest in the local culture wherever he is based and it seemed only natural to pay a visit to our local museum in Charleville-Mézières in northern France.
However, when we arrived we were greeted by a marble step leading up to the entrance. It took my brother and I a great deal of effort, and a certain loss of dignity for my father, to manoeuvre him up it.
Once at the door we noticed that the museum was kind enough to offer a reduced entry price for people with disabilities; if only that kindness had been extended to the installation of a ramp.
Inside the building, which had clearly been quite recently and expensively refurbished, we found lifts did exist but not for public use. A member of staff was found who could escort Dad, but as there were several small floors it meant they had to stay with us for the entire visit.
Although I am sure it was with the best intentions that the member of staff pushed my father around and provided us with a guided tour, it completely took away the autonomy of the visit.
We didn't feel that we could loiter at certain sections and skip others and it was frustrating that the museum couldn't see the importance of giving its disabled visitors the means to experience the exhibits in the same way as its able-bodied visitors. We also couldn't help but wonder what would happen if more than one disabled visitor arrived at the same time.
Although the principle of access for all has been enshrined in French law since 1975 and laws were passed to enforce equal rights for disabled people in 2005, there has been little done to enforce the legislation.
As the Association des Paralysés de France (APF), which campaigns for, among many other things, equal access to museums, points out on its website, there is a huge gap between principle and reality.
Despite the fact that the situation in Paris is better than in the provinces as one would expect, I only had to flick through a recent guidebook to find that there are still some quite shocking instances of thoughtlessness.
Whereas it is understandable that the Musée du Vin, housed in the vaulted cellars of an old wine-producing monastery is only partially wheelchair accessible, how is it possibly acceptable that the Musée de l'Air et de l'Espace is accessible everywhere except in the new Espace building?
The impetus for change should come from the people working in museums, but despite the International Council of Museums' 2006 code of ethics, which states that 'particular regard should be given to those with special needs', this does not seem to be happening.
Perhaps, as the APF suggests, the only way that things are going to change is if the law provides a stronger incentive for institutions to do so. Or, if French disabled people observe their country's well-known predilection to demonstrate and take to the streets.
Catherine Pound is a museum professional currently living in France
As a historian he has always taken an interest in the local culture wherever he is based and it seemed only natural to pay a visit to our local museum in Charleville-Mézières in northern France.
However, when we arrived we were greeted by a marble step leading up to the entrance. It took my brother and I a great deal of effort, and a certain loss of dignity for my father, to manoeuvre him up it.
Once at the door we noticed that the museum was kind enough to offer a reduced entry price for people with disabilities; if only that kindness had been extended to the installation of a ramp.
Inside the building, which had clearly been quite recently and expensively refurbished, we found lifts did exist but not for public use. A member of staff was found who could escort Dad, but as there were several small floors it meant they had to stay with us for the entire visit.
Although I am sure it was with the best intentions that the member of staff pushed my father around and provided us with a guided tour, it completely took away the autonomy of the visit.
We didn't feel that we could loiter at certain sections and skip others and it was frustrating that the museum couldn't see the importance of giving its disabled visitors the means to experience the exhibits in the same way as its able-bodied visitors. We also couldn't help but wonder what would happen if more than one disabled visitor arrived at the same time.
Although the principle of access for all has been enshrined in French law since 1975 and laws were passed to enforce equal rights for disabled people in 2005, there has been little done to enforce the legislation.
As the Association des Paralysés de France (APF), which campaigns for, among many other things, equal access to museums, points out on its website, there is a huge gap between principle and reality.
Despite the fact that the situation in Paris is better than in the provinces as one would expect, I only had to flick through a recent guidebook to find that there are still some quite shocking instances of thoughtlessness.
Whereas it is understandable that the Musée du Vin, housed in the vaulted cellars of an old wine-producing monastery is only partially wheelchair accessible, how is it possibly acceptable that the Musée de l'Air et de l'Espace is accessible everywhere except in the new Espace building?
The impetus for change should come from the people working in museums, but despite the International Council of Museums' 2006 code of ethics, which states that 'particular regard should be given to those with special needs', this does not seem to be happening.
Perhaps, as the APF suggests, the only way that things are going to change is if the law provides a stronger incentive for institutions to do so. Or, if French disabled people observe their country's well-known predilection to demonstrate and take to the streets.
Catherine Pound is a museum professional currently living in France
