From Wheelchair Ramps to Digital Roadblocks

For years, the focus of accessibility was physical: wheelchair ramps, widened doors, hearing loops, clear signage. Those changes mattered. They said, “You belong here. We’ve thought about you.”

Now we’ve swung hard in the opposite direction. Instead of “visit an office,” we’re told “log into the portal.” Instead of “speak to a person,” we’re given a chatbot and a maze of menus. The new message, especially for many seniors, can feel like: “If you can’t or won’t do digital, you’re on your own.”

That’s not inclusion. That’s a new kind of exclusion – digital rather than physical – and it hits older adults hardest.

Technophobia Isn’t Stupidity

“Technophobia” is sometimes used as a joke, but for many older adults it comes with real anxiety, embarrassment, and shame. They may fear pressing the wrong button, losing money, breaking something, or being scammed. They may have grown up in a world where important problems were always solved face-to-face, with a handshake and a conversation.

When the only route to support is a web form, a chatbot, or an app with tiny icons and confusing language, technophobia stops being a “quirk.” It becomes a barrier to essential services:

• Benefits they can’t claim because the form is online-only.
• Medical appointments they can’t rearrange because it requires an app.
• Housing or council issues they can’t resolve because there’s no phone number, only a bot.

We would never say to someone in a wheelchair, “Just use the stairs, everyone’s doing it.” And yet we often tell people who are digitally anxious, “Just go online, it’s easy.” For them, it isn’t.

“Press 1, Press 2” – The Growing Friction to Reach a Human

Even when a phone number exists, it can feel like a test of endurance:

• Endless automated menus (“Press 1 for… Press 2 for…”) with options that don’t quite fit. - Then the response "Goodbye". "How did you rate our service?", "you said 5!" (oh no I flipping didn't)
• Long hold times with no idea how much longer it will be.
• Being bounced between departments, repeating information again and again.

This is friction. Every extra hurdle says, “Please go away and use the website instead.” For someone already uneasy with technology, it reinforces the feeling that they are a problem to be solved, not a citizen to be served.

What “Physical Inclusion” Should Mean in a Digital Age

Physical inclusion is the idea that, even in a digital world, there must always be a clear, kind, human way in.

It doesn’t mean abandoning digital tools. It means designing services so that:

• Digital is an option, not the only door.
• People who struggle with technology can still get help without feeling stupid or burdensome.
• Face-to-face and phone support are treated as core parts of accessibility, not expensive extras.

If we’re serious about inclusion, we need to think about the whole journey: from the website that’s hard to read, to the chatbot that doesn’t understand, to the missing phone number, to the locked front door with a “go online” sign.

Safeguards for When Digital Support Isn’t Enough

Any organisation that moves services online should build in safeguards for when the chatbot or web app can’t help. Some practical principles:

• Always offer a human fallback: A clearly visible phone number, and where possible, a physical location or drop-in option.
• Make the number easy to find: No more hiding contact details at the bottom of the page. For many seniors, the phone number is the accessibility feature.
• Use “warm handovers” from digital to human: If a bot can’t answer within a few steps, offer “Would you like to speak to a person?” and transfer the information you’ve already collected.
• Train staff in patience and plain language: The human at the other end of the phone is part of your accessibility toolkit. Time, tone, and clarity matter.
• Design for low digital confidence, not just low vision: Large fonts and high contrast are important, but so are simple steps, clear labels (“Next”, “Back”), and avoiding jargon.

Re-Thinking Accessibility: Beyond Ramps and Screen Readers

Accessibility standards often focus on physical and sensory needs: can someone in a wheelchair get in the building? Can a screen reader interpret the website? These are vital questions – but they’re not enough.

We also need to ask:

• Can someone who is anxious about technology still get help?
• Can someone who doesn’t own a smartphone complete this task?
• Can someone who prefers to ask questions out loud, and be shown, rather than read, still access the service?

When the answer is “no,” we’ve designed for efficiency, not for people.

Designing With Seniors, Not Just For Them

One of the simplest ways to reduce digital exclusion is to ask seniors themselves what they need. Not in a tick-box survey, but in real conversations and co-design sessions:

• Invite older adults to test your websites, chatbots, and phone systems.
• Watch where they hesitate, get confused, or feel unsafe.
• Ask them where they would like the option to “speak to a human” to appear.

Their feedback will be blunt, practical, and incredibly valuable. What frustrates them often frustrates everyone else too – they’re just more honest about it.

Balancing Efficiency with Humanity

Digital services promise lower costs and faster processes. But if the price of efficiency is that a whole group of people can’t get help, that’s not a saving. It simply pushes the cost somewhere else: to crisis services, missed appointments, unclaimed benefits, and the quiet harm of social exclusion.

Physical inclusion isn’t nostalgic or “old fashioned.” It’s a recognition that:

• Human beings often need other human beings to feel safe and heard.
• Questions are easier to ask in conversation than in a form field.
• Being shown how to do something builds confidence in a way that a help page never will.

A Simple Test for Any Service

If you’re designing or commissioning services for the public, here’s a simple test:

“If a senior with low digital confidence wanted to use this service today, could they do it without help from a family member or neighbour?”

If the honest answer is “no,” then your service isn’t inclusive – yet.

Physical inclusion means keeping a real person, a real phone line, and where possible a real place in the picture. It means treating conversation, curiosity, and the right to ask questions as basic accessibility features, not optional extras.

In a digital-first world, the most radical thing we can sometimes do is simple: make it easy to talk to a human.