Content strategy and content design too often get stuck chasing outputs. But user-centred design is where the real work happens. It’s not just about making something look good or ticking boxes. It’s about designing systems that serve people, not just businesses.
When content fails, it’s rarely because it’s poorly written. (Though that can, of course, be the case). It’s because it wasn’t designed with the user in mind. Inclusive design demands that we stop assuming an "average" user exists and start addressing the realities of those who are overlooked: those navigating under stress, those mistrusting vague language, or those trying to access services with limited resources.
This isn’t optional. It’s essential.
Why exclusion is a design flaw
Too much content assumes a perfect user. Someone fluent in the language, comfortable with technology, and, frankly, patient. That’s not most people. What happens when someone who’s exhausted, unfamiliar with your terminology, or simply overwhelmed by the options hits your site? They'll encounter challenges that don't have to be there and make their day worse.
Inclusive design forces you to plan for those users first. Instead of designing around ideal use cases, you start with the edge cases. The users who are most likely to fail or struggle or need extra support. This isn’t just ethical, it’s practical. Solve problems for those users, and you inherently create better solutions for everyone else.
Clarity over cleverness
Good content design starts with this simple truth: if your content needs explaining, it’s broken. Jargon-heavy terms like "eligibility criteria" or "payment reconciliation" might work in internal comms, but they don’t translate to real-world usability. Simplifying language isn’t about dumbing it down, it’s about making it inherently more functional.
The same goes for navigation. Many systems are designed with organisational logic: what’s easiest for the business to manage. But user-centred design forces you to ask: does this make sense to someone seeing it for the first time? Are we making the user do the work to find answers, or are we giving them tools to achieve their goal quickly?
But it also demands we see the bigger picture in the content we design. We need to consider the system as a whole.
User-centred design demands systems thinking
Content isn’t just the words on a page. It’s the form fields that guide input, the error messages that explain what went wrong, and the confirmation emails that close the loop. It’s how the navigation flows, how options are prioritised, and how interactions feel from start to finish. Every element is part of a broader system and if one piece fails, the user experience falters.
Consider a typical user task. Let's use updating account information as an example. The content on the main page might clearly explain the steps, but what happens when the user encounters a form error? If the error message is vague or the input format requirements aren’t clear, the user becomes stuck, or worse simply gives up and doesn't bother. A system that worked fine up until that point now feels broken. Worse, it undermines trust in the overall experience.
It’s about embedding those principles into every layer, ensuring every piece of the system supports the user’s journey.
This is where systems thinking is critical. User-centred design isn’t about sprinkling usability principles on top of a finished product. It’s about embedding those principles into every layer, ensuring every piece of the system supports the user’s journey.
Take the small but powerful example of microcopy. A simple phrase like “Enter your date of birth” isn’t enough if the format isn’t specified. Instead, something like “Enter your date of birth in DD/MM/YYYY format” removes ambiguity. That’s not just good copy. It’s good system design. It anticipates the user’s needs and eliminates unnecessary friction.
And it goes beyond clarity. Systems thinking means considering how interactions and content flows together. Does the confirmation email after completing a task reflect what the user just did, or does it leave them questioning whether their action was successful? Does navigation prioritise frequently used options, or does it make users wade through unnecessary steps?
Every interaction needs to respect the user’s time, intent, and effort.
Holistic design vs. patchwork solutions
The problem with many digital systems is that they’re designed in silos. The content team creates the copy, the developers build the forms, and the marketing team decides what goes into the confirmation emails. Without a unifying user-centred approach, the result is a patchwork of disjointed elements that frustrate users instead of supporting them.
Systems thinking forces us to zoom out and ask:
- Does a piece of content contribute to the user’s goal?
- Are there redundancies or contradictions in the system?
- Where are the potential failure points that could derail the user’s experience?
If the answers to these questions aren’t clear - or worse, if they reveal gaps - then the system isn’t good enough.
This isn’t a bonus. It’s the baseline
The business case for user-centred content design is clear: fewer support calls, happier customers, and systems that scale more effectively.
But that’s not why we do it. We do it because it’s our job to ensure we're designing like this.
It’s the difference between creating tools that help people and creating obstacles they have to work around.
If this has struck a chord with you, and you'd like to talk content strategy, user experience, and digital strategy, then please get in touch.