Also note that invariably when we design something that can be

“Also note that invariably when we design something that can be used by those with disabilities, we often make it better for everyone.” — Donald Norman

Thus spoke Donald Norman, the philosopher of design and human understanding, whose words reveal not merely the craft of creation, but the ethic of empathy that must guide all who build for mankind. In this profound reflection, he unveils a truth both simple and eternal: that when we create with compassion, we elevate the whole of humanity. For when the designer thinks of those who struggle — the blind, the elderly, the frail, the unheard — he is not limiting his vision, but expanding it. To design for the weakest is to strengthen all, and to consider the forgotten is to honor the fullness of human life.

The origin of this insight lies in Norman’s lifelong devotion to human-centered design — a philosophy that places people, not objects, at the heart of invention. He observed that many of history’s greatest innovations, though born from the need to assist those with disabilities, became universal blessings. The curb cut, for instance, first carved into sidewalks to help wheelchair users, now serves parents with strollers, travelers with suitcases, and workers with carts. The telephone’s closed captions, once meant for the deaf, became subtitles that aid those learning languages or watching in noisy places. These examples, though humble in form, testify to a grand principle: that inclusion is the mother of improvement, and compassion the seed of progress.

This truth echoes through the ages, for even in ancient times, the wisest builders and lawmakers knew that the health of a society is measured not by how it treats the strong, but by how it uplifts the weak. When Hammurabi inscribed his code upon stone, he proclaimed protection for the widow, the orphan, and the poor — for he knew that justice designed for the vulnerable safeguards all. In the same way, when the architect designs a doorway wide enough for a wheelchair, he creates a passage through which all may walk with ease. Thus, design born of empathy becomes design born of wisdom, turning limitation into inspiration, and necessity into beauty.

Norman’s teaching, however, extends beyond the realm of architecture or engineering — it is a mirror held up to the soul. For each of us, in our words and deeds, is a designer of experience. The way we speak, the way we organize our work, the way we shape communities — these are acts of design, shaping the world for others. When we act with empathy — when we take into account the needs of those who cannot move as quickly, see as clearly, or hear as sharply — we are not merely accommodating difference; we are building a more graceful, inclusive, and humane existence.

Consider the story of Louis Braille, who, blinded as a child, devised a system of raised dots that allowed the blind to read through touch. What began as a gift to the few has since inspired countless tools of tactile communication — from elevator buttons to street signs — serving not only the blind, but everyone seeking clarity in darkness. Braille’s invention, like Norman’s philosophy, reminds us that the path of empathy leads to invention, and that the greatest advancements come not from arrogance, but from compassion.

Yet Norman’s words also carry a warning for those who design only for the average, the majority, the “normal.” To build for the many without considering the few is to build incompletely — like a bridge that stops halfway across the river. A design that excludes even one person is a design that fails its purpose, for the measure of good design is not perfection in form, but accessibility in spirit. The ancients would have called this the virtue of phronesis — practical wisdom — the ability to see the good of the many through the needs of the one.

So, O makers of the present and dreamers of the future, take this lesson to heart: design with empathy, for it is the surest path to greatness. When you craft, when you plan, when you lead — look first to those whom the world forgets. Ask not, “What will make this efficient?” but, “What will make this kind?” For in serving the few, you serve the many; in lifting one, you lift all. The world advances not by the cleverness of its inventions, but by the compassion that guides them.

And so, as Donald Norman reminds us, when we design for inclusion, we are not designing limits — we are designing liberation. The ramp becomes not a concession, but a gateway; the braille dot not a mark of pity, but of power; the act of compassion not a burden, but a revelation. In this, design itself becomes sacred — a living proof that the highest form of intelligence is not brilliance, but understanding, and that true progress begins not in the mind alone, but in the heart that chooses to care.