The Paradox of Good Designers
Every designer I’ve met is genuinely kind-hearted. None would ever say, “I don’t care if someone can’t read this text,” or “Let’s make it confusing on purpose.” Yet, every day, millions of people struggle with websites and apps that were designed by these same well-intentioned individuals. How can this be? It’s a puzzle that cuts to the heart of modern web design: the gap between intention and outcome.
The High Stakes of Exclusion
When a design excludes people, it’s not just a minor inconvenience. As Aral Balkan argued in his essay “This Is All There Is,” even a simple bus timetable app can have life-or-death consequences. A person might miss a daughter’s birthday party, or worse, fail to say a final goodbye to a dying grandmother—all because the interface was hard to use. Accessibility isn’t a “nice-to-have”; it’s a fundamental requirement that affects real lives.
Why Exclusion Happens
We already know the facts: not everyone sees, hears, thinks, or moves the same way. So why do so many designs still exclude people? The answer, I believe, is cognitive overload. Designers are expected to juggle countless guidelines—from visual hierarchy to interaction patterns to accessibility standards. The sheer volume is overwhelming. As the original article noted, there’s “too much to recall.”
A Heuristic Solution for Designers
To tackle this problem, let’s borrow from an old but gold concept: Jakob Nielsen’s 10 Usability Heuristics, specifically heuristic №6: “Recognition rather than Recall.” Originally meant for users, it suggests that needed information should be visible or easily retrievable. I propose we apply it to designers: let’s make accessibility information visible and easily retrievable during the design process itself.
Applying Recognition Over Recall
Instead of expecting designers to remember every accessibility rule, we should embed reminders right into our tools and workflows. For instance, a design system could automatically flag low-contrast color combinations, or a prototyping tool could offer alt-text prompts. The book A Web for Everyone by Sarah Horton and Whitney Quesenbery is a great resource for practical patterns. By shifting the burden from recall to recognition, we lower the barrier to inclusive design.
Practical Steps Forward
So how do we start? First, audit your own design habits. Do you rely on memory or on checklists? Make a short list of common accessibility pitfalls (e.g., small touch targets, missing labels) and keep it within reach. Second, advocate for organizational change: push for accessibility checks early in the process, not as a last-minute QA step. Third, educate with empathy. Share stories like the bus timetable example to remind colleagues why this matters.
Ultimately, the path from good intentions to truly inclusive design requires a shift in how we work. It’s not about blaming designers—it’s about giving them the tools to succeed. When we make accessibility recognizable rather than recallable, we close the gap between good designers and bad websites.