Democracy and me: when rights do not feel real

By Mark Jones
(Submitted as part of the Open Politics Student Blogs)

I remember sitting in court knowing that if I lost the case it would push me into financial difficulty. I also knew I was right.

Because of my dyslexia and dyspraxia, I had struggled for months to properly read and process the emails and written evidence being used against me. I had tried to explain this. I had asked for information to be communicated in ways I could realistically engage with. By the time the hearing took place, I felt as though I was defending myself without fully understanding the case I was facing.

The judge ruled against me. Soon afterwards, bailiffs came to my home. Additional fees were added, increasing the debt by thousands of pounds. What had begun as a disagreement became a financial crisis. The system had followed its procedures. It had not adapted to the person in front of it. In that moment, rights did not feel like protections. They felt like paperwork.

Experiences like this rarely make headlines. They unfold through everyday interactions that are treated as routine. A request for a phone call instead of a complex letter can be refused because it sits outside standard policy. Written communication is prioritised even when someone has explained they struggle to engage with it. Employers speak about reasonable adjustments but hesitate when they are actually required. Over time, equality can begin to feel less like a guarantee and more like something that depends on persistence, confidence and luck.

n Wales, around one in five people live with a disability. This is not a marginal issue affecting a small minority. It represents a significant proportion of citizens whose ability to participate fully in society depends on whether systems recognise difference rather than ignore it. For many, disability is not anticipated. An illness, an accident or delayed access to treatment can alter circumstances quickly. Stability that once felt secure can weaken with surprising speed.

The consequences are often practical before they are political. Financial security can deteriorate. Career paths can narrow. Confidence can fall. Returning to work may involve difficult conversations about adjustments that are recognised in law but inconsistently delivered in practice. People who once moved easily through public life can find themselves negotiating processes that feel rigid and impersonal.

Disengagement does not always begin with ideology. Sometimes it begins with exhaustion.

The Equality Act 2010 was intended to prevent this kind of exclusion. It places clear duties on organisations to make reasonable adjustments and ensure fair treatment. On paper, it represents a democratic commitment that citizenship should not be limited by disability. Yet a commitment only matters if it can be relied upon. When those duties are ignored, enforcement often depends on individuals pursuing complaints that require time, resilience and resources they may not have. Institutions such as the Equality and Human Rights Commission play an important role, but their interventions can feel distant from lived experience. Being told that a letter may be written, but that little more can follow, does not always feel like meaningful protection. Laws that exist without visible consequences for those who disregard them risk becoming symbolic rather than real.

This gap between principle and practice has wider implications. Trust in democracy is not shaped only by elections or national debate. It is shaped through everyday encounters between citizens and institutions. When people feel that systems move forward without recognising their circumstances, participation can begin to feel conditional rather than equal.

These questions are becoming more pressing in Wales. Long waiting times in the NHS mean more people live with untreated or worsening conditions for extended periods. Economic uncertainty increases the risk that falling out of work due to ill health will lead to lasting insecurity. Communities already facing disadvantage may feel these pressures most acutely. In this context, accessibility is not simply about compliance with legislation. It is part of how fairness, stability and public confidence are sustained.

Improving access to politics itself is therefore essential. Disabled people bring insight into how policies function because they live with their consequences. Yet standing for election can involve barriers that are often underestimated. A candidate who uses a wheelchair may face the physical demands of campaigning across large constituencies. A deaf candidate may need consistent access to interpreters in order to engage fully with voters and public debate. A blind candidate may depend on assistance navigating unfamiliar environments or complex written materials. These realities do not make someone less capable of leadership. They highlight where democratic participation still assumes a narrow idea of who politics is designed for.

Organisations such as Disability Wales work to support disabled people who wish to become politically active or stand for election. Their work reflects an important principle. Representation is not only about fairness to individuals. It influences how decisions are made. A Senedd that includes people who have had to negotiate barriers throughout their lives is more likely to recognise where systems fail and where they can be improved.

Politics rarely improves when it is shaped only by those who have moved through institutions without difficulty. People who have spent years adapting to rigid processes often recognise sooner when new policies will create unintended obstacles. They understand how small delays can have lasting consequences, and how small adjustments can open opportunities. Including that experience in political life does not guarantee better outcomes, but it increases the likelihood that government works in ways that reflect the realities citizens face.

Disability is often imagined as something that happens to other people. In truth, it sits closer to all of us than we might like to admit. One accident, one illness or one unexpected change in health can alter the direction of a life. When that happens, accessibility stops being an abstract policy concern and becomes part of everyday survival.

Democracy depends not only on the existence of rights, but on the shared confidence that those rights will be honoured. Seeing the person rather than the disability is not simply an act of empathy. It is part of building a political system that allows every citizen to participate, contribute and be heard.