'Accessibility' is for everyone

Much of the world we have built to live in – from the things we use, to signage, to magazine and website pages, to homes, towns and cities – has been designed by fit and healthy people. And much of it doesn’t work for many of us.

March 1 is International Wheelchair Day and having an international awareness day for wheelchair users is a worthy idea  – but I bet it won’t filter through to those busy people who park in a space designated with a wheelchair “just for a minute” or because “no one ever uses it”. In my darkest mood I often think breaking their legs would be a good learning curve for them.

International Wheelchair Day is a day to reflect on the fact that there is a spectrum of physical ability that all of us are on, and it varies depending on age, ability, sight, hearing, health and so on. The terms ‘accessibility’ and ‘universal design’ convey the idea that good design, features such as ramps and wider doorways aren’t the preserve of people in wheelchairs. They are of benefit to all of us: the very young and the old, the sick, the physically impaired and even fit and healthy people who may be carrying groceries or other burdens, pushing a shopping trolley, be pregnant or wheeling kids in a pushchair.

The New Zealand Building Code requires ‘accessibility’ in the design of entries, circulation routes, the provision of ramps or lifts, special features in toilets such as extra space and grab-rails. But these are only required in certain buildings that are frequently used by the general public – not private homes for example.

Public buildings can also be exempted from these requirements if a council agrees it is ‘not practicable’ to provide something or if the building or activity has ‘existing use rights’. Owners or developers wanting to cut costs will exploit these exceptions if and when they can. This is why, for example, a heritage building that has had apartments or a pub in it may have steps at the front and no ramp or lift. Or the wheelchair access will be around the back, making those who need it feel like a second-class citizens.

Restaurants are often good (meaning bad) examples of premises meeting box-ticking accessibility requirements with, for instance, mini-lifts that only rise half a metre. Putting in a mini-lift may be more expensive than installing a ramp, but it saves on space. The problem with them is they are often so mini and discrete you don’t notice them, or even worse, you need to get the restaurant staff to operate them.

Also, they satisfy building consent requirements but the restaurant staff might use them to park a trolley or delivered goods and so on. Yes, restaurants may get annual inspections but these are usually focused on kitchens and food hygiene. Accessible features are often treated by busy staff the same way fire protection is – not something you think about on a daily basis, likely only in an emergency. Not only is that poor hospitality practice, its also hazardous to life and limb.I’ve used restaurants and cafes as an example but the same too often applies to offices, institutions, workplaces, hotels and so on.

At the other extreme, over-zealous attention to health and safety requirements can create its own hazards. Such as sign clutter, signs marking trip hazards, signs marking steps and so on. I recently counted the signs in the local lab I go to for a blood test, an area that was only several square metres in size and had 17 signs in it.

A tip for medical laboratory staff – your clientele are generally ill and not feeling totally compos mentis, so feel free to get rid of the clutter. But if signs are likely to be useful, please consider big font on a contrasting background; any optometrist will tell you that the amount of time we spend on screens these days has created an epidemic of short sightedness.

As I’ve mentioned, the building code has requirements for accessible features in building design, but it would be a better and more accessible world if we all demanded and expected what is known as ‘universal design’, a concept based on the philosophy that the built environment can be accessed, understood and used by all people regardless of their age, size or ability.Consider, for instance, door handles – a lever handle, rather than a round door knob, is so much easier for everyone to use; when my hands are full, bringing my partner an early morning cup of tea and slice of toast, a lever handle will enable me to open the door with an elbow.

Mind you, have you ever tried to open a heavy door of, say, the toilet with a wheelchair sign, with a lever? I haven’t either, but if it was as accessible as its signage suggests, I would think it would have a push-to-open knob, that allows you to open a door with your hand, elbow, or even, should you need to, your forehead.

A good door handle doesn’t cost much; it just requires some extra thought by designers, their clients and building owners, not making assumptions or presumptions about the people who’ll need to use this.

International Wheelchair Day is not only about what is relevant to a select group of people; what makes life easier for a minority is likely to make life easier for everyone else as well.