Robert Kingett’s recent blog post, The Accessibility Link is a Lie recounts a frustrating experience: a website’s accessibility statement expressing the company’s commitment to creating and maintaining an accessible digital experience, only to fall short when it mattered most. In Robert’s case, the checkout process on an e-commerce site where he wanted to buy a noise cancelling headset was inaccessible to screen reader users, making it impossible for him to complete a purchase.
Instead of reaching out to customer service, Robert contacted the company’s legal team directly. He cited their own accessibility statement and politely laid out the gaps between their stated values and the actual experience. To their credit, the company responded quickly. A VP reached out to apologize. Within three days, the checkout was fixed, and Robert got his headset.
The story is compelling, and the resolution is encouraging. But his takeaway—that accessibility statements are corporate lies and “the most legally binding promise of all”—is not only inaccurate, it’s harmful.
Robert’s post has since been picked up in several newsletters and industry digests, spreading a message that could discourage well-meaning organizations from publishing accessibility statements at all. I wrote this article to push back on that idea—not to call out Robert personally, but because the claim already has too much traction, and it undermines a tool that can genuinely improve digital inclusion when used well.
In short, I believe the real lesson of Robert’s experience is the opposite of what the headline suggests.
Accessibility statements must match reality
Let’s start with common ground: when a website’s accessibility statement claims WCAG compliance but fails basic usability for disabled users, that’s a real problem. And yes, companies who post those statements while ignoring access barriers open themselves up to public complaints and, in some cases, legal action. That’s not just fair, it’s necessary.
But that reality doesn’t mean that accessibility statements are lies. And it certainly doesn’t make them binding contracts.
The accessibility statement did its job
Robert didn’t follow the contact path outlined in the statement, but he did invoke its language and values in his message to the legal team. And that made a difference.
It wasn’t just the legal risk that got the company’s attention—it was the mismatch between their public-facing values and his lived experience. That tension created urgency. The statement gave him something to point to. It gave him leverage.
The result? The company fixed the problem. Robert was able to complete his purchase. That outcome supports the usefulness of accessibility statements—not their futility.
Accessibility statements are not contracts
After reading Robert’s piece, I spoke with Pedal Point’s digital accessibility attorney, who confirmed what I have Seen in practice. There’s no legal precedent that treats accessibility statements as binding contracts. ADA Title III claims hinge on actual barriers to access, not on the presence or wording of a website’s accessibility statement.
That said, there is an important caveat: if an organization’s accessibility statement makes an explicit, unqualified claim like “Our website fully conforms to WCAG 2.2 AA,” and a user encounters significant barriers, it’s very possible that kind of statement might be used as evidence in a legal claim, especially if the gap between promise and reality is wide. This is why I advise clients to avoid making absolute guarantees in their accessibility statements.
Instead, I encourage including language like this:
This accessibility statement is not a legal document. Instead, it reflects our ongoing commitment to creating and maintaining an inclusive digital experience for all users.
That’s not legal deflection—it’s responsible transparency.
The point of an accessibility statement isn’t to declare that everything is perfect. It’s to express a company’s intent to create an inclusive experience and a willingness to listen and improve when things don’t quite hit the mark.
In legal practice, accessibility statements are part of the solution
Accessibility statements aren’t liabilities. In fact, they’re often required as part of legal resolutions and regional laws.
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In the settlement between Hy-Vee, Inc. and the US Department of Justice (PDF), the DOJ required the grocery store chain to post an accessibility statement with clear contact information as part of work to make its COVID-19 vaccination web portal accessible (see paragraph 14 on page 4).
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The Champaign-Urbana Mass Transit District agreement (PDF) stipulated that the organization must add an accessibility statement as part of accessibility improvements to its website (see page 2, paragraph 14).
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The European Accessibility Act requires accessibility statements under Article 11, paragraph 2, as part of standard practice for public-facing digital services.
Service providers shall prepare the necessary information in accordance with Annex III explaining how the services meet the accessibility requirements referred to in Article 3. The information shall be made available to the public in written and oral format, including in a manner which is accessible to persons with functional limitations and persons with disabilities. Service providers shall keep the information as long as the service is in operation.
In short: regulators, legal experts, and accessibility professionals all recognize accessibility statements as part of the accountability ecosystem, not as a threat to companies.
So what are accessibility statements, really?
Accessibility statements are value signals.
They’re not legal contracts. They’re not insurance policies. They’re not infallible promises.
They’re public-facing expressions of a company’s commitment to inclusive design, user-centered service, and transparent accountability. When done well, they communicate:
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Good customer care: “We care about your experience and want to make it better.”
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Accountability: “We’ve put our intentions in writing. Hold us to them.”
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Trust-building: “We’re not perfect, but we’re listening.”
Accessibility statements help users understand where a company stands, and how they can speak up when something’s broken.
Let’s not undermine what just worked
Here’s what concerns me most: dismissing accessibility statements as corporate lies may feel cathartic, but it subverts one of the best proactive tools we have to promote digital inclusion.
The better path is not to abandon accessibility statements, it’s to demand that websites accurately live up to what they assert.
Let’s craft accessibility statements that are clear, useful, and genuinely helpful. Let’s make sure websites stay aligned with those statements. Let’s rely on them to foster open, constructive communication between organizations and users. And let’s use them to build trust, improve the web, and press toward eliminating the need litigation altogether.
After reading Robert’s article, I emailed him privately to share many of the thoughts above. As of this writing, I haven’t received a response. That’s entirely his choice, of course—but I’d welcome the opportunity to continue this discussion with him, and with others who care deeply about accessibility, accountability, and user trust.
Accessibility statements are not lies, and they are not legal contracts. They’re commitments to making the web better for everyone.
If you have questions about crafting an accessibility statement or how it might apply to your organization’s legal risk, please reach out. Every situation is a little different, and Pedal Point’s legal team is here to help you navigate it with clarity and confidence.
Thank you for a thought-provoking post. In my experience, organizations that invite feedback are less likely to get into legal difficulty than those that don’t. Users with disabilities have direct experience with accessibility glitches, and are often delighted to share their expertise in exchange for greater access to a page they frequent. In turn, the organization gets free expertise before it becomes a bigger issue. Accessibility statements can be a win-win.
DeAnn, I hear the intent behind what you’re saying — that feedback channels can open dialogue and help organizations learn. But I need to challenge the framing, because what often gets called a “win-win” ends up being an unpaid labor trap for disabled users.
I’ve been in this field for over a decade, certified as an IAAP Web Accessibility Specialist, and I can tell you from experience: accessibility isn’t just about “spotting glitches.” It’s hours of review, testing across assistive technologies, documenting, and translating issues into actionable fixes. This is specialized professional labor. Yet time and again, disabled users are positioned as the “free QA team” simply because an organization didn’t budget for accessibility. That’s not inclusion — that’s exploitation.
Consider the double standard. Companies wouldn’t rely on unpaid volunteers to identify cybersecurity flaws or redline legal contracts. They pay professionals because those fields are recognized as requiring expertise. But with accessibility, the burden is shifted onto users — who are already disadvantaged by the very barriers they’re asked to fix — under the guise of “partnership.” The “reward” is simply being granted access to something that should have been accessible in the first place. That’s not a reward. That’s basic civil rights.
This isn’t to say feedback should be unwelcome. Users should absolutely have a way to flag barriers, just like they might report a security bug. But that feedback should supplement properly funded accessibility work — not replace it. Accessibility statements should make clear that organizations have invested in professionals to do the heavy lifting, while also welcoming lived experience as part of an ongoing accountability loop.
We have to hold the line here. Accessibility is a service — just like legal, design, security, or development — and it deserves to be resourced accordingly. When organizations lean on unpaid labor, they perpetuate the very inequities they claim to be addressing. Disabled users don’t exist to provide free expertise; we exist to live full lives, and access is the baseline that makes that possible. Anything less is absolutely unacceptable.
You’re saying accessibility statements are not promises, not binding, not stating material reality.
So they’re signals.
Marketing.
Lies.
You’re making the very point you’re trying to deny.
And pushing for fluffy statements that do not say anything only makes it worse.
Thanks for taking the time to comment, David. I hear your frustration, and I agree that fluffy, substance-free accessibility statements do more harm than good. That’s not what I’m advocating for.
But I want to push back on a few of the assumptions in your response.
First, the idea that “signals” are inherently marketing or inherently lies feels like an overreach. Yes, companies can absolutely use public-facing language to avoid doing real work. That happens. But that doesn’t mean that every statement of values, commitment, or direction should be treated as a lie by default. That’s a pretty cynical standard, and one I don’t think serves disabled users in the long run.
Value signals such as accessibility statements, sustainability pledges, or mission statements can be shallow PR. But they can also be practical tools for trust and accountability when they reflect reality and provide a clear way for users to engage. That’s the version I’m defending, and the kind I encourage my clients to write.
Consider a loose analogy: if you buy a defective product, and the company has a clear return policy that helps you get a refund, that policy is working as intended. You wouldn’t call the policy a lie just because the product was flawed. But if they ignore their own policy, that’s when you escalate—and maybe even pursue legal action.
Accessibility statements work the same way. They aren’t contracts, and they shouldn’t pretend to be. But when they’re honest, specific, and actionable, they can be incredibly useful: they open a line of communication, establish expectations, and help solve problems before they turn into lawsuits.
And here’s the practical side: if we start treating every accessibility statement as a liability or a trap, fewer companies will post them at all. That doesn’t help anyone, least of all users with disabilities trying to engage in good faith.
I’m always up for dialogue on how to make these statements better, clearer, and more effective. But writing them off entirely as marketing lies, no matter the content or intent, throws out the tools we actually can use to make progress.
The point I took from Robert’s original post was not what you did. I simply took the lesson that I’ve also personally experienced. If you contact customer service or whoever they want you to contact, it takes an act of congress and then 3 more days to get the issue fixed, because you are in fact just getting some minor note added to a single account’s large on-going profile that nobody reads unless you call in and they need context. If you contact legal however those guys get paid a whole lot of money to do one thing, keep the company out of of legal issues or resolve them as fast as posible. When you point out that an actual written (not verbal) state of something is wrong it is in fact legal’s responsibility to get a move on that and send whatever needs to be sent to get it fixed.
As an example of the former, since Robert did a splendid job at showing us the latter. A website that has for many many years claimed, boasted, and advertised how they are making the world better for blind people all over the world made a change to their website. In the change they messed up some purchasing buttons that then required every single blind customer they had to press enter on a button not knowing which version of payment they were choosing. Fortunately there was a confirmation step after that, but “button” is not a sufficient label. I called specifically to let them know, asked to be transfered to whoever I needed to talk to only to find out that the customer service rep can’t transfer me to anyone. So I made my case, explained why this was incredibly bad for business. got my little note made in my personal account according to the rep. It didn’t change for over a year. That is not a good way to do business.
Thanks for sharin, Steve. What a frustrating experience. You’re absolutely right: when accessibility feedback gets buried in a support ticket or CRM note that no one ever reads, nothing changes. And when the issue affects a critical flow like purchasing, it doesn’t just hurt users—it costs the company real business.
In cases like this, I’m 100% for taking a page from Robert’s playbook and going to legal. If a company publicly markets its commitment to blind users but doesn’t back it up with accessible design, escalation is more than appropriate.
This also points to a deeper gap: customer service teams need to be trained to recognize and route accessibility issues properly. This is an essential part of backing up a accessibility statement.
Great article. I’d like to add a clarification about the European Accessibility Act. EAA Annex V does require specific accessibility information in the “terms and conditions,” which sounds like it would be a legally binding contract with the service provider.
> The service provider shall include the information assessing how the service meets the accessibility requirements referred to in Article 4 in the general terms and conditions, or equivalent document.
I’ll be curious to see good/better/best examples of this T&C language, and how it can work together with a user-friendly accessibility statement.
Here is the published version of EAA Annex V. https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/HTML/?uri=CELEX:32019L0882&qid=1758782789485#anx_V