The limit to inclusive mobility isn't technological

When accessibility is considered from the beginning rather than added later, the benefits extend far beyond any single user group.

Imagine planning a journey where every part of the system works together, even when travelling somewhere new.

Your mobility scooter or powerchair suggests the most accessible route. Lifts are waiting when you arrive. Public transport apps know which stops offer step-free access and whether seating is available. If an obstacle appears, an alternative route is suggested automatically. Local authorities receive preventative alerts about barriers and fix them before they're even noticed.

The technologies that could make this possible already exist. Sensors, connected infrastructure, artificial intelligence and real-time data are creating opportunities to link mobility devices, transport networks and public spaces into a seamless mobility ecosystem.

The challenge is not necessarily technological but how we understand inclusive design. When accessibility is treated as a specialist add-on, exclusion is built into the design.

What if we started somewhere different? What if accessibility was viewed not as an adaptation but as an essential part of how mobility systems work?

This shift would matter most for people living with disabilities or reduced mobility. Yet the benefits would not stop there. Better information, more reliable journeys and more intuitive public spaces make life easier for parents with pushchairs, travellers carrying luggage, people recovering from injury and anyone navigating an unfamiliar place.

Personal mobility devices have been transformative. But the next leap may come less from the device than from journeys that are predictable and accessible from start to finish.

Most of the journey happens outside the device

At TIER Mobility, I led policy thought leadership. Much of that work focused on e-bikes and e-scooters rather than disability directly, but it revealed a related challenge. When new forms of mobility are introduced into streets that were never designed for them, the consequences are felt by everyone. Many cities were rewired around the car for the same reason.

An e-scooter parked across a pavement narrows the space available to a wheelchair user. A cycle lane designed without consideration for pedestrian crossings can make boarding a bus harder. A delivery robot still creates competition for scarce space.

Often, accessibility challenges emerge because different parts of the system are designed independently. How do we weigh up the health benefits of cleaner EVs against potentially cluttering pavements with charging infrastructure?

Vehicle design and street design cannot be separated, especially as the range of vehicles on our streets multiplies. Mobility outcomes are shaped as much by the environment as by the technology itself. The same principle applies to mobility scooters and powered wheelchairs. Independence depends not only on the device, but on the infrastructure and information that surround it.

Visible and hidden barriers

The wheelchair remains an important symbol of accessibility, but our understanding of inclusion has expanded.

Many people navigating towns and cities live with conditions that remain invisible to others: chronic pain, fatigue, sight or hearing loss, dementia, anxiety, or autism. Some use a mobility aid only occasionally. Others experience barriers that have little to do with physical mobility, but everything to do with information, noise, confidence or uncertainty.

For these users, knowing what to expect can determine whether a journey feels possible at all.

When people think about innovation in mobility, they often picture engineering advances: lighter materials, longer battery life, more compact designs or even an exoskeleton to restore movement. These improvements matter enormously. But the next frontier may be less visible: using integration and design to shift more of the burden of adaptation away from the individual and onto the environment around them.

You cannot fix what you cannot see

Many local authorities do not hold a complete picture of the barriers people face. Yet new approaches to data collection are beginning to change that.

In Fingal, County Dublin, a council-backed wayfinding app mapped kerb heights, footpath widths, inclines and obstacles. Wheelchair users could activate an auto-survey mode that recorded surface conditions through their smartphone as they travelled. The same approach has been used to map noise, crowding, rest points and step-free status, the information that matters most to many people with hidden disabilities.

In Konya, Türkiye, a municipal app helps disabled residents navigate public transport while also enabling them to report obstacles using photographs, location data or voice notes. Issues are sent directly to the department responsible for resolving them.

The people who experience barriers every day are often the best sensors a city has.

In Madrid's Vallecas district, older residents worked with the city to identify mobility challenges. Their critical walks led to traffic calming on the routes they used most: to shops, doctors and day centres.

The lesson for both technology providers and public authorities is clear: co-design is a source of data and innovation. Whatever you build, design it to collect and share meaningful feedback, with users’ consent. That consent rests on trust. People will share information about their health, movements and routines only when they can see how it is protected and what changes because they spoke up.

The future of mobility innovation is giving more people a voice in how their streets work and the confidence to explore new places. Inclusion should not be something we retrofit into mobility systems once they are built. It should be a principle that shapes them from the start. That way, everyone benefits from better journeys.