Ethnodesignography

The more literature I read on the topic, the more frustrating is the gap between ethnography and design. More precisely, the fact that the imagined bridges, while often eye-catching from a distance, seem incapable of actually bearing any load--even that of their own weight.

This gap, this "design canyon", actually has two difficulties to surmount: The (only somewhat metaphorical) physical separation, and the (even less metaphorical) fact that the two populations actually speak different languages.

Ethnographers, for their part, are almost to a one hesitant and ambivalent about actually making a bridge. Most often what they do is construct a lovely scenic vantage point on their edge of the canyon and call it a bridge. These are easily enough detected (except by their creators, apparently) by the realization that they don't actually allow either side to step closer to the other. At best, they allow one side to imagine that they are speaking the language of the other. This can allow a certain self-congratulatory air of achievement without the threatening reality of ingress by the designers.

This physical threat seems equally strong on both sides. Neither wants to risk allowing the other into their business, making troublesome suggestions and asking constant questions (though the latter would certainly be of benefit to both in the long run). What each side seems to want is a bridge that acts as a (value-)neutral territory into which communications may pass, be magically translated, and emerge in the terms of the other without causing any disturbance.

But what seems to be the larger problem is language. The social-practice separation can frankly be easily enough solved, but only if they can communicate directly. This has a long history of historical (literal) parallels. My indictment--of the ethnographers, mostly, although what I know of the design side is hardly more impressive--is that its practitioners are pretending that a communication infrastructure is sufficient, and paying little attention to their inability to craft content. This is made worse when they make some obscure and arcane gestures which allow them to believe they are speaking the language of the other, when in truth they are merely undertaking an elaborate ritual which reinforces their own practices.

On the other hand, I have no surefire solution. The best (and only) productive route which I see out of this impasse is to create ambassadors; brave souls willing to immerse themselves in the foreign habits, understandings, and detailed knowldege of the other so as to become human bridges. Perhaps then these human bridges can design a means of structured communication. What will not work is continuing to believe that each side can start their own bridge, with no understanding of the others' plans, and meet successfully halfway.

Zoom

It would be easy enough to pick a certain lens through which to view the mundane, so as to give a "perspective". I'm an eager enough consumer of others' examples of just that. But how to not use a lens, and still have something to offer--is that naive? Or just uneconomical...

Later: I think it is naive after all. To continue the metaphor, everything that creates an image requires a lens, the human eye included*. The perspective of the lens is necessarily limited and arbitrarily biased (to a certain field of view, depth, focal range, etc) but at least the image is clear. A more appropriate goal might be to vary lenses regularly. Having a quality large zoom lens would be a good start.

*yes, I know that pinhole cameras don't need a lens, but I think I've burdened the metaphor enough already.

Illiterate hammers

Every now and then--predictable in hindsight yet seemingly always a surprise--the limitations of a particular technology that we take for granted utterly fails to fulfill its purpose. Case in point: the telephone, among the most quotidian and useful of electronic devices. The telephone allows us to communicate over any terrestrial distance by whisking a voice first this way, then that. We use it every day and fully expect it to project our intent like a hammer. Sometimes nails are bent through imperfect application of that force (or uncooperative wood), but in the end an understanding can usually be worked out and something is held to something else which it wasn't previously.

But what if a nail absolutely didn't speak "hammer"? What if you picked up the phone, dropped it deftly on the nail above soft wood, and it remained utterly unfazed? What would you do if all the nails available for the task at hand were fully incompatible with your hammer? You quickly realize that your hammer isn't up to the task of nailing, and what's more, even if the nail tries to explain itself your hammer remains unenlightened and useless, heavy in your hand.

But that's if you're trying to hammer a nail over the phone. In person, body language and other tricks can be used to coerce just about any nail you can find. Audio has its limitations, and one of them is just there. In person, we have available quite a number of communications protocols if the first one fails. With voice, we're stuck with just one port.

Which makes me wonder just how small a bare minimum universal communications protocol for humans might be. Not a full-fledged Esperanto; really minimal. 100 nouns, plus proper names as appropriate? 20 verbs? 50 modifiers (colors, qualifiers, adjectives)? With that I could say, "Where is X?", "Do you own a car?", "That is my book," and so on. No real grammar would be necessary.

I don't know of any such thing that exists. I wonder if it even could exist, being so small and unattached to a culture or population. If people taught it to their children, the kids might start to replace the words from their own language, at least at times, and a lot of people wouldn't like that. But if people didn't use it at least very occasionally, it would be forgotten and useless.