The Access Audit That Starts Before the Meeting: Who Your Campaign Is Really Built For

Every campaign meeting makes a promise before anyone speaks. The venue, the booking form, the bus stop outside, the queue for the loo — they all tell people whether they are expected to be there. Access is not a compliance box you tick after the flyer goes out. It is part of the organising. And the fixes you publish, budget for and act on are a pretty honest signal of who your campaign is actually built for.

So here is an access audit that starts before the meeting. It is not about finding one perfect venue and calling it done. It is about building a habit: ask disabled members early, pay them for their time, and change the plan while it can still be changed.

Start with the journey, not the venue

Most access audits begin at the front door. That is already too late. People have to get to the door first. Ask what the journey looks like from the nearest bus stop, railway station or car park. Is the pavement wide enough? Are there dropped kerbs? Is there a step-free route from the street to the entrance, or does the accessible entrance send people round the back past the bins? Is there somewhere to be dropped off without holding up traffic?

Then add the costs. A free event is not free if someone has to pay for a taxi because the bus does not run after 7pm, or pay a carer to come along, or lose a shift. Travel reimbursements should be simple, advertised upfront and paid quickly — not a receipt-based obstacle course that only confident people with spare cash can navigate.

Ask disabled members to help map this. Not as a one-off consultation after the venue is booked, but before the shortlist is drawn up. A quick question in the group chat beats a polished accessibility statement that arrives too late to change anything.

The room tells you who belongs

The toilet is a good test because it is so often an afterthought. Is there an accessible toilet that is actually open, clean and not being used as storage? Can a wheelchair user turn around in it? Is there a Changing Places toilet nearby if people need one? Is the route to it step-free, lit and signposted? If the answer is no, the meeting is not accessible, however good the ramp looks in the photos.

Then listen to the room. Hard surfaces, high ceilings and no soft furnishings turn a lively meeting into an echo chamber. Use a microphone even in a small hall. Ask about hearing loops, British Sign Language interpretation, speech-to-text and captioned online joining. Not every event needs every option, but the decision should be made with the people who need them, not guessed at by the person holding the booking form.

Lighting matters too. Flickering strip lights, glaring spotlights and dim corners can make a room unusable for people with sensory conditions, migraines or visual impairments. Seating should include chairs with backs and arms, spaces for wheelchairs, and room to move without climbing over people. A quiet room — not a corridor, not a cupboard — gives people somewhere to decompress, pray, feed a baby or manage pain. It is not a luxury. It is part of the meeting.

The invisible costs

Access is also about time, energy and money. A £12 ticket is a barrier if you are on Universal Credit. A two-hour meeting is a barrier if you have chronic fatigue. A 7pm start is a barrier if the last bus is at 8.30pm. A booking system that demands an app is a barrier if you do not have a smartphone.

So audit the small print. Offer free personal assistant tickets. Have a phone number and an email, not just an online form. Say what the food will be and whether there are vegan, halal or allergy-friendly options. Tell people whether the room will be crowded, whether there will be breaks, and whether they can leave early without being made to feel rude. Publish the access information in plain English and keep it updated. If something has changed, say so.

Publish the fixes, budget for them

An access audit without a budget is a wish list. Put an access line in every event budget: interpretation, taxis, venue hire with better acoustics, a portable hearing loop, paid access support, childcare, a quiet room. It does not have to be huge, but it does have to be real. If the money is not there, say what you are doing to raise it and what the fallback is. Do not quietly drop the access needs and hope nobody notices.

Name an access lead for each campaign or coalition. Give them authority to pause a plan that does not work. Ask disabled members what would make the biggest difference, then act on it. And pay people for their expertise when they are doing the work of auditing, training or advising. Lived experience is not a free resource.

Make it an organising habit

Access is not a one-off project. It belongs in the sign-up form, the venue checklist, the agenda, the social media posts and the debrief. Ask people what worked and what did not. Keep a shared note of the venues that got it right and the ones that need chasing. Share it with other local groups. A coalition that swaps access knowledge is stronger than one that keeps reinventing the same broken ramp.

None of this is about being perfect. It is about being honest, specific and willing to change. The campaign that asks who is missing, and then moves the meeting, the budget and the microphone to include them, is already doing the work. That is what organising for a fairer UK looks like in practice — not just who gets through the door, but who helped decide where the door should be.