All access needs are equal, but some access needs are more equal than others: Part 1 on digital accessibility

What does 'universal' really mean?

It has been exciting to see awareness of digital accessibility and universal design growing. Increasingly, multiple formats are being provided, Auslan interpretations are becoming more common, captioning is being seen as standard, and screen reader accessibility is starting to be regularly considered in document development.

However, as is often the case, basic knowledge of digital access considerations doesn’t address all barriers that users may face when interacting with content online.

Many have been quick to adopt the fundamentals: captioning, using heading hierarchies, and including alternative (alt) text. But what is missing is the nuance, or an understanding of the underlying logic of why we design things the way we do.

Advocating for access

I started thinking about this problem after providing some comments on a government report recently. The report was focused on the implementation of a very large, complex government program, aiming to demonstrate progress across a vast range of action areas.

As someone with attention and visual processing differences, I suggested that a summary table at the start of the report including traffic-light progress indicators might be a helpful way to summarise status updates. Something like this would make it possible to see, at a glance, which actions were on track, which were stalled, and those that might be regressing or blocked. As it was, there was literally no way to confirm action status comprehensively without the wiggle room that narrative explanations can offer. This is not only suboptimal for accessibiltiy, but also provides poor accountability. My suggestion addressed both issues, in my view.

I’m not sure what happened behind the scenes, but in response to this feedback I was reminded that tables are not accessible for screen reader users, and that our priority should be writing clear, easy-to-understand copy that everyone can engage with universally. Instead of visual indictors, more words were proposed as the answer. Which to me, doesn’t solve either problem.

Let’s unpack it. There are two explicit claims I see here here:

1. Tables are not accessible.

2. Our goal is to produce content that everyone can access in the same way.

Together, these statements illustrate what I think is a misunderstanding of what we are trying to achieve with digital accessibility, and with inclusive practice more generally.

There’s a third, more insidious assumption here too, though:

3. Some access needs are a higher priority than others.

This one is particularly harmful, and not one that many in the disability community are willing to say out loud.

Let’s have a closer look at all three.

“Tables aren’t accessible!”

I preface this discussion with the fact that I am not a screen reader user, though I use other assistive technologies which rely on similar design considerations to function properly. I have also spent a lot of time learning about digital accessibility, accessible document design, and how assistive technologies (AT) work both professionally and privately.

And indeed, in many of the training and development opportunities I have engaged in or delivered, tables often do take up a considerable amount of time: for good reason!

Tables, when designed badly or without an understanding of how AT works, can be absolute nightmares for screen reader users in particular. Without getting too detailed, empty cells, merged cells, non-standard symbols and characters, and colour-coding without alternative channels communicating that meaning, can make it difficult or impossible for someone not accessing a table visually to understand what it is trying to communicate.

However, it is absolutely possible to design an accessible table, whether you’re in Word, Excel, HTML, or somewhere else. Avoiding empty and merged cells, using clear row and heading labels, avoiding non-standard characters, and providing accompanying titles and descriptions are some starting considerations. If you’re interested in learning more about this, I cannot recommend Vision Australia’s training enough.

In some cases, particularly when presenting data, tables can be more accessible than a complex graph or chart representing the same information. Including the table with the raw data is a way to provide the same precision for non-sighted readers as sighted readers get from interpreting a scatter plot, for example. But, even in this example, you can see another challenge emerging: what’s accessible to one person might present big issues for another.

And this brings us to the second claim.

Inclusion means making one, ‘fully accessible’ option for everyone

If anyone ever tells you that their event is ‘fully accessible’, you should be suspicious. Because it’s not possible.

The incredible diversity of strengths in our disability community is mirrored by an equally diverse range of access and support needs. And sometimes, these diverse needs can conflict with each other.

Commonly, we see this where blind and low vision members of our community benefit from audio formats which can exclude our deaf and hard of hearing peers. Designing an event for colleagues with intellectual disability who may engage best during in-person, face-to-face engagements can exclude our chronically ill or immunocompromised community members who may prefer to engage online.

The same dynamic carries over to digital accessibility. Some readers require shorter, plain English expression to engage; others need the details, specifics, and context that often cannot fit in Easy Read or plain English formats. Many will have requirements or preferences for visual, audio, interactive, or narrative formats. These requirements and preferences might change over time; or as a result of fluctuating capacity, context, or degree of interest in what’s being presented. Some are AT users with specific document structure requirements. Others have developed less formal but equally important engagement tools and strategies to get work done.

What should be clear is that it is not possible to create something that is going to support optimal engagement from the full diversity of possible readers. There will always be someone making do with something that’s not ideal for them when we try and please everyone at once. That should not be our goal.

So, what should we do instead?

Understanding what ‘universal’ means

The word ‘universal’ in universal design (UD) does a lot of heavy lifting, and as a result can be misinterpreted. It doesn’t mean ‘one thing that is universally accessible’. Instead, it’s about considering a universal range of needs, preferences, and requirements, and designing accordingly.

What this means in practice is that one product, service, event, or resource might not be the right fit for everyone. It may be logistically impossible to create an event where everyone can engage equally with the same degree of comfort, safety, and enthusiasm. A single report in the constraints of institutional bureaucracies and demands for brevity isn’t going to hit the mark for everyone. In these cases—or most cases, really—there are two things we need to consider.

First, we need to acknowledge the challenges and constraints we are facing. Almost every Higher Hopes reader is working in a resource-constrained environment: time, staffing, funding, space, and expertise can all be limited in the kind of work we do. Notwithstanding the legal obligation of public institutions to provide access to all, sometimes we have to acknowledge that something just isn’t going to be accessible to some. If there are legitimate reasons for not catering for a particular cohort, we can communicate this clearly and transparently to avoid disappointment or loss of trust from those in our communities that might not be served.

In many cases though, accessibility is not optional, and full inclusion is required. This brings us to the second consideration: thinking about what else we need to create, design, or develop, to ensure that everyone is catered for, universally.

Starting from the original product, service, event, or resource, what alternative and additional options or formats can be created that will provide an equally accessible and rich engagement opportunity for those not well-served by our original option? We aren’t trying to create one report to rule them all: we provide multiple options that cater for different strengths and needs.

Here is where my preferred universal design framework, Universal Design for Learning (UDL), really comes in handy. In a nutshell, UDL offers a three-dimensional structure to think about developing inclusive learning opportunities: it is very portable beyond the classroom though, and extremely relevant here. UDL asks us to consider how we can use multiple means or channels across three areas:

• Engagement, how users can relate and connect to the content at hand.

• Representation, how content is presented, communicated, and distributed to users.

• Expression, how users can interact with content and communicate their own insights and ideals.

Understanding the diversity of accessibility requirements, as well as preferences, allows us to design content that not only meets basic requirements, but to optimise for the different strengths and preferences that allow users to have rich, quality engagement with our work. The CAST UDL Guidelines provide a rich framework and practical tools to unpack and plan for accessibility and inclusion across these three pillars.

Coming back to the specifics of digital accessibility, UDL helps us to understand that we aren’t trying to make one thing that works for everyone. We are developing multiple options that provide the full diversity of our community to engage richly and deeply in ways that work for them.

That means that one format might be totally inaccessible to some, but highly valuable to others. And that’s ok, because there will be other formats designed with their needs in mind.

Multiple formats in practice

Recently I needed to develop a stakeholder update as part of a long-term project. We had a lot of survey data results across many different areas, all of which were rich and important. Noting the varied access needs and preferences across the group, this is what I did:

1. I presented each section of the survey results as a table, a graph, and in a paragraph of text (multiple means of representation).

2. I ensured that each of these modes—table, graph, text—were optimised for accessibility as far as possible. Clear headings, alt text, appropriate text size and colour contrast, you get the gist.

3. I put a detailed table of contents at the top of the report, and an explanation of how the report was structured:

This report has been prepared with the widest range of accessibility needs in mind. Each data segment is presented in three ways: a table, a graph or visualisation, and narrative text. Please navigate the report focusing on the style of data representation and level of detail which best suits your processing style, assistive technology, and level of confidence in interpreting data.

This meant that the report looked a bit longer than it really was, and might have seemed repetitive for some. But it meant that users had agency in how they engaged with the information (or, multiple means of engagement), accessibility was embedded, and we didn’t need to ask anyone to compromise.

Does it take a bit longer? Yes, while you get the hang of it. But it also helped me understand my data better, and to communicate my findings more clearly. Importantly, it meant my readers were more engaged and resulted in high quality reflections and discussion (enhanced, and multiple means of expression).

This approach was queried though. A collaborator asked me to remove a visual that wasn’t able to be made fully accessible for screen reader users, even though I had presented that same information in a different format to ensure everyone could engage with it in a way that suited them. I also included an accessible table and narrative description of the data. There were good reasons for the visual to remain: for lots of reasons, disability-related and otherwise, some people just prefer to see data visualised.

Nobody was missing out. So, why remove it?

That brings us to our final, implicit message: some access needs are seen as a higher priority than others.

You’ll need to come back next fortnight to unpack this one with me in Part 2!

Part 2 will pick up where this leaves off: why some access needs get treated as legitimate requirements while others get categorised as preferences and deprioritised. I’m going to explore what I think drives that distinction, why we might be anxious about doing something innovative, and why it’s really important that we acknowledge and challenge the ‘hierarchy of access needs’.

In the meantime, I’d love to know what you’re noticing in your own work. Drop your thoughts in the comments, or in the subscriber chat if you’re a paid subscriber.