Referencing soccer during the World Cup, see? I’m so topical.

There is no soccer occurring in today’s comic, which pokes fun at Ian Hickson, editor-for-life of HTML. It also features Miro Keller, the winner of my AEA: Seattle/Dribbble guest comic contest. There’s a washing machine and unicorn in there too. Thanks Miro, for being so patient about appearing in the comic.

The pink unicorn is an example of an imaginary solution to the issue of empty alt attributes inside image tags, one which is as equally valid as the image analysis heuristics suggested by Mr. Hickson for helping blind people understand images. See Matthew May’s related bug report on this actual situation. I’m sure if the unicorn seems too girly to you, we could use tea leaves and chicken bones.

I’d give Ian points for actually seeming to care about the visually impaired for a change, but an imaginary solution being championed seems like a really poor way to address the challenges they face. I suppose it’s arguably a step-up from claiming that table summary attributes are harmful to sighted users and that authors are incapable of writing descriptions that would be usable.

Yes, he says authors are incapable of writing useful table summaries that are non-harmful to sighted users. But, thankfully, the unicorns… I mean the image analysis heuristics will be safe and far more effective.

Competence regarding accessibility challenges isn’t something Ian needs, however. Arguably, what he really needs is the ability to accept advice on such a topic from people in the know… which ties into the issue I started this whole parade with:

I used to behave the way Ian Hickson does when it comes to dealing with responsibility, power, and making use of those when dealing with other people.

Then I turned ten.

Is that statement too caustic and pointed to belong in a standards debate? My apologies. I was just following Ian’s lead. He accuses Sam Ruby of weak leadership as the HTML chair “you just do what the more vocal members of this group want regardless of the technical arguments,” proceeds to insult either the entire workgroup or Sam again (I’m unsure of the exact recipient of “you” here) “from a technical point of view, your decisions are all arbitrary.” and “The WHATWG draft continues to exist because it’s the only way to have a specification that actually makes sense in the face of the ridiculous decisions you keep making.” and contrasts the two versions of the spec in a fashion that is more than slightly disrespectful to the W3C’s version “Easier to just add the reference in just the W3C version and keep the WHATWG version sane.”

Folks, this is all in a single email.

I’m a web developer who makes a comic poking fun at our industry in my spare time.  Ian Hickson is the sole editor of the HTML5 spec, for both the WHATWG and the W3C. As discussed ad nauseum, he is (as characterized by even those not critical of him) the Leviathan, a sort of dictator/tyrant.

If Ian Hickson wants to snap at me, so be it. I’m poking fun at him with a stick as often as I can. But if as editor he cannot speak respectfully to the chairs of the HTML WG even when they’re attempting to be civil to him, then something is wrong. If he’s openly disrespectful to the very specification that he is responsible for authoring, then we’ve got an even bigger problem.

The fiction that the HTML5 spec isn’t split is just that, a fiction. The people empowered to run this process for us have a responsibility that outweighs the responsibilities of your average web monkey. Some would say this is how specifications were always written. Perhaps so. But this specification is far more public, and far more exposed to the “authors” that need to buy into using HTML5. I know for a fact from personal conversations that many of these authors aren’t buying in explicitly because of behavior like Ian’s creating the real confusion as to which specification matters (W3C vs WHAT WG) and whether the specification will survive this rancorous process.

If the editor of HTML5 can’t even be bothered to be civil about what he’s writing without a knock-down brawl every time there’s something added or subtracted that goes against his opinion, then he needs to stop being the editor. Period.

Do I file a bug for that?

On Monday one Andy Clarke, British rock star of the web design world, posted an open letter to Taylor Swift on his blog. This letter expressed his admiration for her as a musician and a gentle critique of a serious problem with her website: it is almost completely inaccessible to those with visual impairment or the inability to use a mouse. He details it quite thoroughly and politely, aware that as a musician (and not a web designer) she likely had no awareness of the issue or even touched the code of the site. This post provided a great example of the purpose of Blue Beanie Day, pushing web standards awareness to those who need it.

All was well until around comment #9 on Mr. Clarke’s post, by one Max Weir. You should read the linked comment for the full text, but the gist of his missive is summed up by the following line: This site is an interactive flash experience and thats all there is to it, there are designers who think accessibility, web standards etc and those who focus on creating a immersive experiences only.

This comment by a man who’s Twitter bio is “Design is form and function on equal level”, posted on an accessibility blog post on Blue Beanie Day, formed a nexus of baleful energy that summoned from the deep places one of the dreaded behemoths of nautical lore, the Beanicornupus. Identifiable by its massive blue beanie and gossamer spiral horn, this ravenous monster consumes the flesh of designers who think that “cool media experiences” are more important than ensuring a site can be used by impaired visitors and would consider that making a site this way is a valid business choice.

Poor Max didn’t stand a chance, suffering many grievous wounds at the hands of the commentators even after Andy tried to call them off. Like Captain Ahab, Max underestimated the beast. Today’s comic portrays his final moments, swallowed up by the Beanicornupus, calling out his defiance at the very end.

Max’s gruesome fate can provide a cautionary tale for us all. Web standards aren’t some sort of optional flavoring for some websites. They’re needed by every one of them. Those who choose to ignore that will face mockery from their website creator peers, and their clients will lose customers who aren’t able to access their sites. Although we’d like to think that only musicians, big uncaring media conglomerates, and our grandmothers don’t know the gospel truth of web standards, the fact is, as Andy said (when asking his commentators to stand down): It’s sobering that on Blue Beanie Day where we, who pride ourselves on our support for standards and accessibility, pat ourselves on the back for a job well done, must not forget that the job that Jeffrey started with Designing With Web Standards is far from done.

As you’re likely familiar with my opinion on this topic, I think you can predict the results.

On October 27, 2009, Ian “Hixie” Hickson, editor-for-life of HTML5 (yes, my bias is showing) decided that there were
“no outstanding emails or bugs on the spec”, and flipped the switch on the spec declaring it in Last Call. Just in time to meet the October deadline. Hooray!

As it stands, his status flip may be premature. Or, perhaps, his viewpoint of reality. If you look at the W3C’s HTML issue tracker, you can see it’s got a lot left on it. In response to comments about this difference between the W3C and WHATWG on whether HTML5 had actually reached Last Call, Ian commented “…we have different issues lists and different criteria for going to Last Call.”

Looking at what’s left to resolve, it’d seem the difference in criteria is that the W3C would prefer the job was done properly, as opposed to being done quickly.

I’m inclined to agree with Shelley’s thoughts. Maybe Ian is trying to reassert some control. Maybe he just isn’t concerned with issues like providing unsighted web users with the information they need to understand tables on a website. Either way, it creates the appearance of a move meant to serve himself, not others.

That’s not a reassuring quality to see in our leviathan.

Today I finally set up a system for linking a transcript of the comic via an aria-describedby attribute on the comic’s image tag. As I learned, making a transcript is a time-consuming process. So far, only the most recent comic has a transcript, and it took me well over a half hour to do with little outside distraction. I can understand, then, one major barrier to accessibility being more common on the Internet: laziness.

It’s easy enough for me to consider that my comic has a very small cross-section of people that it’s targeting: web designers and developers. Of that demographic, even less have accessibility issues significant enough to prohibit them from enjoying the comic (or in some cases like deafness, the comic doesn’t have any feature that they’d be missing out on without added support). But the fact is, if even one person is interested in my work, and they can’t experience it because of a barrier that I should be trying to help overcome, then I’m doing something wrong.

Over the next few days or weeks (depending on how much free time I have for the project) I’ll continue to make transcripts for the past comics. All future CSSquirrel comics going forward will have a transcript created when it is first made.

If you’re a person who makes use of screen readers, can you take a chance to examine comic #34 (Squirrel in the Dark) and tell me if the feature is working correctly, or if there’s any other work I should make to enhance it? I’d appreciate that very much.

Then, at Web Directions North, I attended Derek Featherstone’s Accessibility Beyond Compliance presentation. By the end of it, I could spot at least a dozen things I was doing wrong, very wrong, with my coding. I figured there was even more that wasn’t correct. Accessibility, which I understand as making the web accessible to people with sensory or cognitive disabilities, was a topic that I’d taken horribly for granted. I assumed if it validated, it’d work out. That was naive, to say the least.

Since then, I’ve been trying to get more familiar with the topic while simultaneously keeping up to date with everything else that makes the web work. Trying best suits what happens. I’ll admit, I’ve been thinking of it as a low priority, which I knew was the wrong attitude. But I’ve made efforts to ensure my JS-powered interactivity makes use of the right tags (buttons instead of spans, for example), although I’m still unsure of how to announce the change of a page (like a AJAX-based popup) to a screen-reader. It was incremental, but I was improving.

With this site, with the comic, I’ve been slower. After all, a comic is at it’s heart a visual medium. Would a blind person want to sit through the annoyance of having the joke described to him, like the co-worker’s bungled re-telling of a standup joke he heard last night?

I started reading a lot about HTML 5, and the arguments that it’s birthing process has spawned. One of the banners that differing “sides” of the involved parties frequently have been waving is accessibility, or the perceived lack thereof, or the problems with different scenarios of implementing it. One of the voices I’d see the most was John Foliot, who’s graced this comic a couple times now. I’ve even been lucky enough to have him provide me with a technique for making an accessible summary of a comic for this site.

I have not yet implemented that technique. How much do I suck? After today’s comic, I will be doing so (exact implementation time this week varies).

What brought this topic back to my mind was a string of comments on last week’s comic, which discussed the “pick an icon” custom CAPTCHA that my comment-system makes use of. If you haven’t posted here before, it provides three images, and asks you to click on one to confirm that you’re not some horrid robot. I had thought about blind users when I made it, and ensured each image had descriptive text that didn’t named the image’s object, but provided enough prose about it to let them know what they were seeing.

In the comment discussion, some problems with how that system was interacted with came up, including challenges for screen-readers that I hadn’t anticipated, and the issue of the cognitively-disabled, which I hadn’t even thought about. One well-meaning commentator, in my defense, said something to the effect of “Well, you can’t always make it work for everyone.”…

I didn’t care for that, even though I know he didn’t mean ill by it. The thing is, I like the web, a lot. It’s a huge part of my job, my hobbies, and my ability to communicate and learn about all sorts of things in the world I can’t afford to go visit in person. How would I interact with it if I was suddenly stricken blind? Would I be satisfied with my experience surfing on a screen-reader, listening to pages as they were written?

Yesterday, I closed my eyes, and tried to just make use of Microsoft’s Narrator program, starting with the task of activating the program from scratch while blind. I was able to get it going, but after about two minutes of trying to do anything with my computer, I shut it off in frustration.

Today’s comic, which technically stars John Foliot, is an exploration of that frustration, and hopefully shaking people out of the passive assumption that it’s OK if their website isn’t working for a small subset of surfers.

It also reflects a challenge for myself. I need to implement a summary system for the comic for blind readers. I need to update the CAPTCHA to better serve blind/low-vision readers and make it easier for the cognitively-challenged to understand while still being confusing to a robot. I probably need to do more than that, but I don’t even know what other challenges the site represents yet.

Check out your site. If you had to listen to it, would it be usable? If not, what are you going to do about it?

This comment by John sent me down several interesting paths of consideration. Firstly, it made me think that Mr. Allsopp might spend more time writing in other people’s blogs than his own, much like Jeff Croft (who I had the fortune to see at Refresh Bellingham last week) appears to spend more time in every other city in America than the one in which he lives.

Secondly, I briefly thought that I’d start spelling “ton” (American spelling) like “tonne” (which appears to be the Australian, and I’ll bet also the UK spelling). I quickly discarded that plan, since it’d just limit my word count in Twitter. Which made me wonder, do Japanese users of Twitter get to use kanji in their tweets? If so, that seems highly unfair. They could fit a War & Peace sized comment in a single tweet that way. (Note to self: learn Japanese.)

Finally I really got to the meat of what he said in that sentence (one of many that expressed his thoughts on the mess topic Bruce had posted about). Why should you or I bother with figuring out how the hell to send an email to the proper mailing lists for the HTML5 WG? Or the WHAT WG? Heck, I’m not even sure which group is more relevant. The former has more technical authority, but the latter is actually making all the calls. RDFa, ARIA, and other fruits of the loins of other W3C chartered working groups are being disregarded by the HTML5 people consistently, or being carefully argued away with a pleading for use cases, a suggestion that their expertise is flawed, or that alternate solutions (read that: the WHAT WG’s solutions) are the better option.

People who’ve spent decades in service to their fields are being shot down by non-experts. Consider the issues with accessibility. Laura Carlson recently sent a proposal (signed by a lot of notables including accessibility guru John Foliot and HTML5 doctor in residence Bruce Lawson) that suggested the audacious idea that there be a formal procedure that describes how HTML5 will seek accessibility guidance from the W3C WAI groups.

HTML5 editor-for-life Ian Hickson evaded the issue by listing all the unanswered questions he has waiting on such topics instead of addressing the proposal. Sam Ruby one-upped Ian by expressing his disappointment that the proposal even existed.

In a situation like this, where motivated, caring experts in their fields are being ignored or deflected when using the official channels, why should your average John Everyweb even consider unraveling the process involved enough to attempt to address concerns, knowing the almost certain result of such efforts?

I can’t think of any motivating reasons.

Today’s comic features John Foliot (representing accessibility efforts) submitting such a suggestion to the HTML5 group(s), with my squirrel alter ego looking on in horror at the results. Consider it a softened metaphor that reflects my own growing dismay at the direction HTML5 seems to be heading when working with others.

The first involves Bruce Lawson and snogging. In relation to point #2, I tweeted this. He responded with this. I find the word snogging hilarious, so it went downhill from there, with mental images of Ian Hickson and John Foliot getting hot and heavy.

In those mental images, Ian is asked to shave.

The second topic, which quite inadvertently spawned the first, involves HTML5, ARIA and the apparent lack of peace between the groups responsible for developing each. In his post Alternate Text in HTML5, Bruce bravely discusses his opinion on the topic despite his stated delicate nature and then suggests a group hug, and perhaps a sing along.

By comment #2, Anne van Kesteren has dropped the thunder and brought back the fighting.

Here’s a recap: Blind people can’t see. Blind web users, as a result, need some aids to make sense of things we’d take for granted, even when screen readers are taken into account. Pictures need some form of alternate text and tables need some sort of summary to help give them the scope of the data that’s about to be read to them (as just two examples.)

The WAI-CG has methods for solving these sorts of problems. These solutions exist in HTML4. However, the WHAT WG, with what I presume is a desire to keep code simple, want to do accessibility their own way. To prove their point, they lean on surveys of existing web content which show little adoption of the accessibility features being debated. They also decline to accept the advice of accessibility experts with real-life experience interacting with disabled users.

For a bunch of smart people, that’s pretty stupid.

Actually, that’s stupid for stupid people, so it’s outright dead-brained for smart people.

Why would surveys of existing content prove the effectiveness of the features when used? All it proves is that accessibility awareness needs to be raised among developers. To figure out whether the proper use of these features improve accessibility for the blind, I’d suggest talking to a blind web user.

As John Foliot points out in his comments in Bruce’s post, by all accounts Ian has not actually received any input from a blind person on the accessibility features he is denying.

I’m not an expert in this field, so I’m not going to propose solutions. I do propose, however, that the WHAT WG listens to the experts instead of continuing to cling to their “not invented here” mentality and looking to their own interests before those of the community that absolutely relies on accessibility to make use of the web.

In other words, stop being jerks.

Here’s a couple of related links to the topic in addition to those shown above that might make a good read: Mechanism to Summarize a Table, maintained by Laura Carlson. HTML5 and WAI-ARIA by Anne van Kesteren (the real good stuff is in the comments). Also, make sure to check out the comments in Bruce’s post. There’s a lot of good material in there to get a feel for positions and justifications.

Edit: Corrected the authorship of the Mechanism to Summarize a Table link, based on John’s correction below. Sorry for that, Laura!