40 Big Ideas

Summary

Augmentative and alternative communication (AAC) has given people with disabilities greater access to community life and has given communities a greater sense of humanity. It provides access to learning, civic engagement, and much more. To truly innovate in the future, however, people who need or use AAC must be co-designers so they can create tools that empower users rather than forcing them to conform to spaces and systems. At its best, AAC allows us to push the boundaries on how we can democratize technology, how we think about speech, and how we set up spaces–all things that affect everyone.

For decades and even today, people who need and use augmentative and alternative communication (AAC) have been tossed to the side, ignored, and overlooked. In many ways, advances in these tools have enabled access and a greater sense of humanity. Yet, as with most things, much AAC research and most design advancements have been led by nondisabled professionals, without fully addressing the priorities of people who need and use AAC.

In its simplest form, AAC refers to anything used to support or replace spoken language. For some people, this could mean texting and using emojis; everyday tools that have changed the way people communicate. For the more than 5 million people in the United States who cannot rely on speech to be heard or understood, it includes tools such as communication boards, software on tablets or other tech-based tools, switches, and dedicated speech-generating devices. Advancements in multimodal access have ensured that a wider range of individuals can access effective communication.

Photo courtesy Tom Olin

Yet, as we continue in a world where technological innovation accelerates and artificial intelligence (AI) is infused in almost everything, the responsibility of professionals is clear. The design of AAC must be guided not only by efficiency but also by AAC users’ experiences, priorities, and needs. While a world with AI has promised faster communication for everyone, important questions remain. Will these advances enable us to fully participate and feel a sense of belonging in fast-paced conversations? Will systems be able to provide quicker and more personalized feedback based on our communication patterns, with suggestions that include context in real-time? Will learning and literacy be prioritized and viewed as essential? Or will progress leave us behind as assumptions are made about our language, and external efficiency norms are imposed?

The answers likely depend on how innovation is approached.

Much of today’s design and development is still rooted in ableism, under the belief that disabled people require fixing. With this mindset, tools are created to compensate for something “missing” or that needs to be repaired. When that is the rationale for the designer or society at large, it rarely empowers communication access. Rather, it makes people conform to spaces and systems, ultimately limiting how we can engage. Even worse, it sends the message that something within us is broken. This is why AAC cannot just be about requesting or responding. It must be about enabling connection, opportunities, learning, and access to community. This shift can only happen if people who need or use AAC co-design innovation rather than passively receiving its byproducts.

This is not to say that AAC, as it is, has not changed the world. It has changed my life and the lives of so many others. It provides access to rights such as education, person-centered planning, medical care, and civic engagement. It also continuously allows us to push the boundaries on how we can democratize technology, how we think about speech, and how we set up spaces–all things that affect everyone.

By centering the perspectives and expertise of AAC users going forward, the field has the opportunity to advance not just the tools for the next half-century, but broader conversations, change, and societal innovations.