Danielle had been feeling unusually tired for weeks. One evening, sitting at her kitchen table with her laptop open, she typed her symptoms into Google – fatigue, hair loss, dry skin.The first link led her to a popular health website, neatly designed and filled with articles about possible causes: anemia, thyroid issues, even stress.
She spent 30 minutes scrolling through symptom lists, risk factors, and treatment options, but the more she read, the more overwhelmed she felt. Each page offered reams of information, yet none answered her central questions: “Am I okay?” “Should I see a doctor?”
By the end of her search, Danielle felt more anxious than informed. She shut her laptop, still unsure about her next step.
This is not an uncommon experience. In 2025, information is everywhere. It is accessible instantly through search engines, AI summaries, chatbots, blogs, reels, and explainer videos. Websites are brimming with facts, but how often do users come away feeling equipped to act?
While a quandary for several content strategists in the UX space, this gap between knowing and doing is more than just content delivery online. It reflects something deeper about how humans process information, make decisions, and are compelled to take action.
As someone who works at the intersection of research and design, I often think about this in terms of declarative versus procedural knowledge. In psychology, declarative knowledge refers to “knowing that”—facts, concepts, and explanations. Procedural knowledge, on the other hand, is “knowing how”—skills, actions, and processes that are often harder to verbalize (Anderson & Lebiere, 1998).
So, is one better than the other? Not necessarily. Both are critical to how humans learn and navigate the world. Declarative knowledge gives us the frameworks to understand our environment: it is what allows a medical student to list the symptoms of hypothyroidism, or a traveler to recall visa requirements for their next Europe trip. Procedural knowledge, in contrast, enables us to apply that understanding: it is what helps a doctor recognize the condition in a patient, or a traveler complete a visa application without error (Schraw, 2006).
What makes procedural knowledge so powerful is that it is often tacit and embodied. You do not consciously think about balancing on a bicycle after learning to ride – the skill becomes automatic. This automaticity is why procedural knowledge is closely tied to confidence. When we know how to do something, the task feels lighter, less effortful. We move from analysis to action.
For designers and brands, this distinction matters because users rarely visit a website seeking only facts. They are trying to get somewhere – to book an appointment, plan a trip, file a claim, or make a purchase. Giving them information without a pathway to apply it leaves them stranded at the level of “knowing that,” unsure how to proceed.
Declarative content can feel safe for brands. It’s authoritative, easy to scale, and lends itself to SEO. But procedural design – interactive tools, step-by-step guides, decision trees – has greater transformative potential. It meets users where they are and carries them across the threshold from intention to behavior. In this sense, neither knowledge type is inherently superior, but for websites designed to drive engagement and loyalty, declarative knowledge alone is not enough.
Many websites, even beautifully designed ones, excel at delivering the former. They tell you what you need to know. Far fewer help you understand what to do next. In a world where attention is scarce and cognitive load is high, that can be the difference between a user staying or leaving, trusting or disengaging (Sweller, 1988).
Most websites assume their job is to educate. They flood users with neatly structured paragraphs and helpful links, confident that more information will lead to better decisions. However, human behavior rarely works that way.
When we land on a website, we’re not looking to slow down and analyze. We want things to feel obvious, almost instinctive. Don Norman (2013) has long argued that people value experiences that minimize effort and make them feel competent. Online, this means that if the next step isn’t clear, like if a button doesn’t invite us forward or a tool doesn’t hold our hand, we hesitate. Hesitation may mean a user dropping off on your website before getting an opportunity to look around and explore.
Daniel Kahneman (2011), in Thinking, Fast and Slow, would call this a shift from our brain’s fast, intuitive mode to its slower, deliberate one. Static, information-heavy websites push us into that slower gear, forcing us to weigh options, juggle tabs, and process details. It feels heavy. Similarly, when something feels heavy online, we do what comes naturally: we close the tab and move on.
Great digital experiences anticipate this, keeping us in flow. They guide us from one action to the next, nudging gently, and never overwhelming. Think of how satisfying it feels when a site gives you a single, clear button – “Check Eligibility” – instead of expecting you to decode five dense paragraphs of visa requirements. Or when a meal-planning app asks, “What’s in your fridge?” and builds recipes around what you have on hand. These moments create a sense of competence, like you’ve already completed Step One of a long process (Norman, 2013).
Humans behave like information hunters, scanning for scent trails—subtle cues that signal where the payoff lies. When the scent is strong, we keep going. When it’s weak, we give up. Most websites today emit the faint smell of “learn more,” when what users are really sniffing for is “act now” (Pirolli & Card, 1999). Brands spend millions creating authoritative, information-rich websites, but more often than not, momentum pulls users to act, not authority.
Consider Danielle’s story again. Her experience was shaped not by a lack of content but by an absence of scaffolding. The website she visited assumed she would read, process, and independently determine her next move. However, research in health psychology shows that when people are anxious or uncertain about their health, their ability to make decisions deteriorates. They need guidance, not more paragraphs.
Contrast this with the Participatient app developed in the Netherlands (Linden et al., 2018) Hospitals are notorious for information overload— think pamphlets, posters, and websites outlining protocols for everything from pain management to catheter care. Yet patients often report feeling confused about how to engage with staff or monitor their own health.
Participatient, a smartphone app, flipped the script – instead of static content delivery, it offered interactive modules guiding patients step by step. Daily checklists, symptom trackers, and conversation prompts for medical staff. Patients using the app experienced fewer urinary tract infections and reported feeling more in control of their care.
Now imagine Sean, a 34-year-old software engineer planning his first solo trip abroad. He dreams of exploring the Turkish Riviera—wandering through vibrant bazaars, sipping coffee under warm, olive tree landscapes—but feels paralyzed by the logistics: budgets, routes, and figuring out where to even begin. One Saturday, he sits down with a cup of coffee and begins his research.
An hour later, his browser is cluttered with open tabs: blogs describing “10-day itineraries,” cost calculators that assume a backpacker budget, and forums debating whether to start in Antalya or Fethiye. Each site offers information in abundance, but none seem tailored to him—a solo American traveler in his early thirties, planning 12 days with moderate spending flexibility. Overwhelmed, Sean closes his laptop and pushes the idea of the trip to “someday.”
Now imagine a different experience.
Instead of wading through dense paragraphs and piecing together scattered advice, Sean lands on a travel site that greets him with a friendly, conversational prompt:
“Where are you traveling from? How many days? What’s your budget? What sounds like a perfect Sunday evening in Antalya to you?”
He types in his answers—USA, 12 days, moderate budget, and a preference for calm beaches, historic sites, and local food markets.
A trip-planning wizard then builds an itinerary around Sean’s interests and travel dates, weaving in ancient ruins at Patara, sailing excursions around Fethiye’s hidden coves, and evenings spent in seaside cafés overlooking the harbor lights of Kaş.
Suddenly, the idea of green-blue waters and sunlit ruins feels not distant, but within reach. Instead of bombarding him with FAQs, laundry lists, and endless planning forums, travel websites have offered Sean a simulation of an adventure in a land far away. For a traveler, he is no longer inundated with information – path is now clear, and the trip feels tangible and real.
Or take Camila, a 28-year-old marketing manager living in Austin, Texas. She’s heard it a million times—“start early if you want to build wealth”—but every time she lands on a personal finance site, she’s bombarded with jargon about 401(k) rollovers, Roth IRAs, and stock market volatility.
It feels abstract, overwhelming, even a little guilt-inducing.
Camila isn’t looking for a crash course in financial planning. She just wants an answer to one simple question: “What should I do this month?”
When she visits a platform that aids to help, she finds an interactive tool: “How much will you need to retire comfortably?” It asks her age, income, and what kind of lifestyle she envisions for her future. In minutes, it delivers a personalized savings target and recommends a starter portfolio.
The emotional shift is subtle but powerful. Instead of leaving with the thought, “I should probably get on this someday,” Camila thinks, “I know exactly where to start.”
Why this matters for brands
These vignettes point to a larger truth: when users feel stuck, they don’t just abandon a task – they often abandon trust. Brands that only deliver information may come across as authoritative but distant. Think experts who talk at their audience, instead of offering solutions. Brands that design for action, on the other hand, position themselves as partners. They emit a subtle but powerful signal: “We’re here to help you move forward.”
Of course, building these kinds of experiences isn’t trivial. Interactive tools require more than good intentions. They demand research to understand user goals and anxieties, technical investment to make processes seamless, and iterative design to reduce friction. But the returns are tangible: higher engagement, lower bounce rates, and deeper emotional connection.
As AI-generated summaries and content proliferate, declarative knowledge is becoming commoditized. Anyone can provide information. The next frontier of digital design lies in facilitating action—helping users take the first small steps toward their goals.
Returning to Danielle, Sean and Camila, imagine if the first sites they visited had greeted them not with paragraphs but with simple, interactive prompts: “Would you like to assess your symptoms?” “Let us map out the best route for 10 days in Europe based on your style and budget.” “Want to calculate your savings target?”
In each case, the platform would have gone from a passive repository of information to an active facilitator of change.
In a sea of pixels and paragraphs, users are asking for confidence, clarity and a glowing path to action. The question then, for every digital platform is:
Are you helping them get there?
References
Anderson, J. R., & Lebiere, C. (1998). The atomic components of thought. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Bentvelsen, R. G., Veldkamp, K. E., & Chavannes, N. H. (2021). A smartphone app for engaging patients with catheter-associated urinary tract infections: Protocol for an interrupted time-series analysis. JMIR Research Protocols, 10(3), e28314. https://doi.org/10.2196/28314
Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, fast and slow. New York, NY: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
Norman, D. A. (2013). The design of everyday things: Revised and expanded edition. New York, NY: Basic Books.
Pirolli, P., & Card, S. K. (1999). Information foraging. Psychological Review, 106(4), 643–675. https://doi.org/10.1037/0033-295X.106.4.643
Schraw, G. (2006). Knowledge: Structures and processes. In P. Alexander & P. Winne (Eds.), Handbook of educational psychology (2nd ed., pp. 245–264). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Sweller, J. (1988). Cognitive load during problem solving: Effects on learning. Cognitive Science, 12(2), 257–285. https://doi.org/10.1016/0364-0213(88)90023-7
van der Linden, M. E., et al. (2018). Participatient: Improving patient engagement with a smartphone application. JMIR mHealth and uHealth, 6(4), e89. https://doi.org/10.2196/mhealth.9812
