In a world where usefulness is often confused with worth, we’ve built systems, intentionally or not, that ignore those who no longer fit our definition of “productive.” As someone who has experienced what it’s like to be judged for perceived usefulness, I recognize how technology can either empower people or quietly push them aside.
Nowhere is this more visible than in how we build digital experiences for older adults.
The Missed Opportunity Hiding in Plain Sight
By 2050, one in six people in the world will be over the age of 65. That’s not a niche. It’s a wave. And while some assume this group resists technology, the reality is more nuanced and more hopeful.
Many older adults are already managing their banking online, sharing memes with family, booking medical appointments through apps, and even working digitally. They’re not incapable. They’re underserved.
But they do it in spite of how we’ve built our tools, not because of them.
As Joseph Coughlin, Director of the MIT AgeLab, emphasizes, “The future of aging is not about keeping people alive longer. It’s about how we design a better life for longer.” His work challenges us to view aging not as decline, but as an opportunity for innovation, inclusion, and human-centered design.
🎥 Watch Joseph Coughlin’s TED Talk
When UX Becomes a Barrier, Not a Bridge
We’ve created a visual and interaction language that works well for digital natives. However, it often alienates everyone else. Hidden menus, ambiguous icons, swipe-only actions, or low-contrast designs might look sleek in a mockup. Yet they can turn simple tasks into frustrating experiences for many older and disabled users.
Why do three dots sometimes mean “more options,” while other times it’s three lines? Why does a menu appear when swiping from the edge or tapping a profile picture? These patterns are not intuitive. They’re learned. And if you’re joining the digital world later in life, the learning curve can be discouraging.
Designs that prioritize minimalism at the expense of clarity or accessibility are not just harder to use. They are exclusionary.
Technology as Emotional Infrastructure
Technology isn’t just functional. For many older adults, it’s emotional infrastructure. It helps maintain a fragile thread of connection, especially in a world where loved ones are busy, far away, or no longer present.
They’ve adapted, sometimes slowly and painfully, learning to send voice notes, use emojis, and reply with stickers. Not because it comes naturally, but because they want to stay close. They are trying. And they deserve tools that try too.
As the rest of society moves faster, their loneliness grows louder. That’s not a personal failing. It’s a collective design choice.
The Promise of AI Companions
The idea of an AI companion is not to replace family or friends. It is to offer something gentle and emotionally intelligent in the quiet moments in between, when no one else is available.
As someone who struggles to connect even with my own mother, I see the value in something that is always on and always there. It could provide comfort and engagement without judgment or fatigue. Not to solve everything, but to soften the loneliness.
The technology is already here. Emotional AI, memory-based agents, and voice interfaces are more mature than ever. What’s missing is the intentionality to design for care rather than efficiency alone.
Why Now, and Why You
If you’re a product or technology leader, you are sitting at the intersection of what gets imagined and what gets built. The decisions you make around features, accessibility, and user personas have real consequences for millions of people.
Older adults are not a burden to be managed. They are users to be welcomed, customers to be delighted, and humans to be honored.
Designing for dignity is not just the ethical thing to do. It is a strategic decision. Inclusive products do not just scale better. They stay relevant and build lasting loyalty.
This is not about charity. It is about vision. Let’s make it count.