from the book cover

We’re at the start of the 2010 CHI challenge, another “wicked problem,” and it reminds me of a book I read some years ago: The Logic of Failure: Recognizing and Avoiding Error in Complex Situations, by Dietrich Dörner. The author tells a story of a city council and its mayor trying to fix the volume of traffic, noise, and air pollution in their downtown area. To solve the problem they introduced speed bumps and the speed limit was reduced to 20 miles per hour. But the results were unexpected: 1) the speed bumps forced people to drive in a lower gear, thus increasing the noise and exhaust fumes; 2) but because of the reduced speed, people spent more time shopping, and this actually increased the number of cars in the downtown area; 3) eventually fewer and fewer went downtown because of these reasons; 4) people started shopping in a near-by mall; 5) downtown stores, once thriving, were facing bankruptcy, and 6) tax revenues were significantly down. “The fate of this environment-conscious town demonstrates how human planning and decision-making processes can go awry if we do not pay enough attention to possible side effects and long-term repercussions, if we apply corrective measures too aggressively or too timidly, of if we ignore premises we should have considered.” [p.2]

It seems we’re wired for this kind of ad hoc thinking. Hunting, building a fire, or chasing away a wild animal does not have much significance beyond the act; “…our prehistoric ancestors did not have to think beyond the situation itself. The need to see a problem embedded in the context of other problems rarely arose. For us, however, this is the rule, not the exception. Do our habits of thought measure up to the demands of thinking in systems? What errors are we prone to when we have to take side effects and long-term repercussions into account?” [p. 6]

As we build systems, we need to be aware of short-term, long-term, and unexpected consequences. Smart designers understand the motivations and needs of their target population. Who is your target population? What do you know about them? If you build a tool for them (to help them walk more or to enjoy their walks or…), what are the side effects? Might there be unintended consequences? Are you able to anticipate some of these and design for them?

How is your project avoiding the logic of failure? It may be impossible for us to avoid some of these unintended consequences, but we might mitigate against some of them through careful design.

Atul Gawande

I enjoy reading non-fiction, mostly around HCI issues, but occasionally in other areas. One such book was Better: A Surgeon’s Notes on Performance, by Atul Gawande. From the book jacket: “The struggle to perform well is universal: each of us faces fatigue, limited resources, and imperfect abilities in whatever we do. [Sound familiar?] But nowhere is this drive to do better more important than in medicine, where lives may be on the line with any decision.” Gawande describes three core requirements for success in medicine:

1. Diligence — attention to detail.
2. To do right — despite moral obstacles.
3. Ingenuity — arising “from deliberate, even obsessive, reflection on failure and a constant searching for new solutions.”

Medicine is a profession that involves risk and responsibility; and so does human-computer interaction design. As we consider Gawande’s core requirements for medicine, what are the parallels in hci/d?

We are half way through the semester; we are at an important turning point as we engage in the CHI 2010 International Design Competition problem: will we dig deep within ourselves to find our excellence, or will we simply do what’s necessary to complete the task?

Maya Lin’s design document is quoted here:

Walking through this park-like area, the memorial appears as a rift in the earth, a long, polished, black stone wall, emerging from and receding into the earth. Approaching the memorial, the ground slopes gently downward and the low walls emerging on either side, growing out of the earth, extend and converge at a point below and ahead. Walking into this grassy site contained by the walls of the memorial we can barely make out the carved names upon the memorial’s walls. These names, seemingly infinite in number, convey the sense of overwhelming numbers, while unifying these individuals into a whole.

The memorial is composed not as an unchanging monument, but as a moving composition to be understood as we move into and out of it. The passage itself is gradual; the descent to the origin slow, but it is at the origin that the memorial is to be fully understood. At the intersection of these walls, on the right side, is carved the date of the first death. It is followed by the names of those who died in the war, in chronological order. These names continue on this wall appearing to recede into the earth at the wall’s end. The names resume on the left wall as the wall emerges from the earth, continuing back to the origin where the date of the last death is carved at the bottom of this wall. Thus the war’s beginning and end meet; the war is ‘complete,’ coming full- circle, yet broken by the earth that bounds the angle’s open side, and continued within the earth itself. As we turn to leave, we see these walls stretching into the distance, directing us to the Washington Monument, to the left, and the Lincoln Memorial, to the right, thus bringing the Vietnam Memorial into an historical context. We the living are brought to a concrete realization of these deaths.

Brought to a sharp awareness of such a loss, it is up to each individual to resolve or come to terms with this loss. For death, is in the end a personal and private matter, and the area contained with this memorial is a quiet place, meant for personal reflection and private reckoning. The black granite walls, each two hundred feet long, and ten feet below ground at their lowest point (gradually ascending toward ground level) effectively act as a sound barrier, yet are of such a height and length so as not to appear threatening or enclosing. The actual area is wide and shallow, allowing for a sense of privacy, and the sunlight from the memorial’s southern exposure along with the grassy park surrounding and within its walls, contribute to the serenity of the area. Thus this memorial is for those who have died, and for us to remember them.

The memorial’s origin is located approximately at the center of the site; its legs each extending two hundred feet towards the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial. The walls, contained on one side by the earth, are ten feet below ground at their point of origin, gradually lessening in height, until they finally recede totally into the earth, at their ends. The walls are to be made of a hard, polished black granite, with the names to be carved in a simple Trojan letter. The memorial’s construction involves recontouring the area within the wall’s boundaries, so as to provide for an easily accessible descent, but as much of the site as possible should be left untouched. The area should remain as a park, for all to enjoy.

[For Maya Lin's complete submission, see: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fb/MayaLinsubmission.jpg]