Apologies if this turns up more than once--I've had trouble posting
successfully the last few days.
Dear Ken,
Sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I enjoyed your lengthy reply,
and the shoelace competition. If someone was going to earn that £100,
it would probably be this guy...
http://www.fieggen.com/shoelace/knots.htm.
Anyway, at the risk of prying back open what was a peacefully sleeping
can of worms, I think your last post to me deserves a response. I
apologise in advance for its length, but as you appreciate, to treat
these issues in any detail is quite a task. It's been valuable to me to
have my views examined by you; I'm glad you also find the dialogue
stimulating.
When I sent my original post about Simon's definition, I didn't think
what I was saying was controversial. Actually, I thought it
incontrovertible. It seems my choice of examples, rather than my
objections, has been the primary focus of the discussion, and for that
reason a number of issues I understand to be important (and tried to
express in my original post) have been passed over.
Defining design is one of those topics that this list returns to
parasitically, with little progress, and less agreement. I appreciate
that you and I are coming at this from different angles, and that my
diagnosis isn't all that acceptable to you. I also appreciate you would
prefer the conversation be directed towards proposals for comprehensive
definitions of design rather than criticisms of Simon's (or others')
definitions. But the target of my original post concerned the
enterprise of crafting definitions.
In many, perhaps all, fields, there is a need to define technical terms
to further inquiry. This is the case in both the physical and social
sciences. I have no objection to technical definitions, which are
(amongst other things) a means of clarifying the criteria by which we
identify a phenomenon. In many respects, theorists are free to define
technical terms as they please. Researchers who make use of the
technical definition may suggest alterations/reformulations on the
basis of encountering practical problems when applying it to their
empirical material. Technical definitions are not attempts to capture
the existing meaning of terms—they are a means of simplifying and
clarifying inquiry and attempting to delimit phenomena.
However, theorists may also go for quiddity, and try to formulate
definitions which attempt to, in somewhat Platonic fashion, abstract a
common, core, essential, unitary, etc. set of properties or features of
a 'thing'. Again, whether or not this is problematic is not necessarily
an a priori matter. But the possibilities for problems here are much
greater, particularly when the concept being defined so is borrowed
from ordinary language, where it already has meaning.
Terry reads Klaus' post as something of a lament that design research
is not more like physics, where terms and definitions are agreed upon
and research work can get on with the real job. I read it somewhat
differently for this reason: that in a sense, there is no point
defining design (we already know where to find it and how to identify
it); so let's get on with studying what's going on and how. The latter
is not predicated on everyone's agreement on formal definitions, but on
our common mastery of distinctions available in language. If we
appreciate the polymorphous nature of many of the concepts we're
interested in investigating, there is no need (or much point) in
seeking THE definition, for there is no reason to suppose there is one
to be uncovered in the first place. There are many to be stipulated,
but none to be discovered.
My original post was occasioned by your endorsement of Simon's
definition, where you claimed Simon had "abstract[ed] from hundreds of
instances that which is common to all design". Whether or not Simon
actually managed this (whether or not every case of 'design' (however
that might otherwise be determined) can be described in terms of his
definition) is not the point at issue. The point is that many other
activities, events etc. now fall into the category of 'design' so
defined. This, I think, you agree with, as you have mentioned that
you've seen on occasion, if rarely, your dog Jacob design. This is
something of a new use of an existing concept, as new criteria for its
application have been laid down by Simon's definition. It is calling
something that would not (prior to Simon and others' formulations of
what design really 'is') have occasioned such a description before.
Naturally, when we change the criteria for the application of a term,
we thereby (subtly) change its meaning. Then we would be justified in
changing the word, too. Particularly so when we lay down fixed criteria
for a concept that may have many, various manifestations, some
overlapping, some not.
Trying to create a science of design on the model you propose appears
to me like trying to create a science of 'tradition'. Or consider
trying to squeeze the concept of 'weeds' into a botanical taxonomy
without doing injury to the original concept of an unwanted plant. This
kind of thing has been a documented problem in empirical treatments of
phenomena that 'operationalise' concepts from ordinary language in one
way or another, miscasting them as unitary phenomena.
Your argument about scale will no doubt be tempting to many. The idea
that 'the same' (mental?) processes are in operation, or 'the same'
things are going on, when one plans to tie one's shoelaces and plans
the construction of a bridge may seem reasonable on the surface. But I
have several problems with it.
For one, we must first be certain that the basis for which we claim
that these are 'the same' rests on more than the fact that we use the
same word ('plan') in the descriptions of the activities. The fact that
the same words can be used to describe different things often masks
important differences in their meaning in each case. One could, for
example, pose an identically structured argument from scale that
progressed from football to war. But that doesn't necessitate that
George Bush's initiatives in Iraq are a game. Many family resemblance
concepts (I suggest that 'design' is one) are prone to distortion for
the ways that they conceal such differences. We are helped by
realising, as you do, that the word 'design' functions both as a noun
and verb; both as a noun for a process and a noun for a product; both
as a noun for 'mental' processes and various physical processes. But
when you equate the verb design to plan, as you do in your post, you
obscure the differences between planning and design. There is no doubt
that they are related concepts, but it requires something of a
conceptual analysis to show that there are many planning activities
that would not ordinarily be called design, even though Simon's
definition would have us subsume (in some respects) the concept of
planning under the concept of design. These two concepts run along
similar tracks for a while, but they also diverge for all the ways (or
occasions) that 'plan' is not a synonym for 'design' and vice versa.
I appreciate that you suggest your analogy to Newton and Einstein may
be too grand; but more than that, I think it's spurious. There are no
immutable laws of thought as there are universal gravitational
constants. Would that I could abandon studies of multidisciplinary
teams of practising designers in favour of the empirical examination of
an ant tracing a laborious path on the sand. But there are no
formulable laws that can be derived from the latter that somehow
miraculously govern, or even account for, the former. Simon's powerful
analytical conceptualisation of human action may rival Newton's vivid
imagination, but has little of its power. Again, this is not to say
that the ant and the multidisciplinary idesign team CANNOT be described
in the same terms, and/or in the terms of Simon's definition. Our
ability to find, or be instructed to see, commonalities in what may
otherwise be very different things is not in dispute. It is the grounds
for claiming that essentially the same process is in operation—these
grounds are not independent of our practices of description. It is the
problem of generating scientific descriptions of events in our
socially-shared world that rears its head again here. Three people who
I find appreciated this problem in depth are Peter Winch, Harvey Sacks
and Harold Garfinkel. But I'll admit, it is also my inclination to be
sceptical of the craving for generality—the insistence that these
things just are the same, to the exclusion of the differences that
occasion our ordinary modes of ascribing labels to events and
processes.
One last clarification; I do not hold that ordinary language, or what
people ordinarily say, is incorrigible. I am not suggesting that e.g.
planning activities CANNOT be called design—this isn't a matter of
conceptual policing. But I am wary of statements of yours such as "to
understand the nature of design, it helps to be able to define design
in some way that covers all design processes regardless of scale or
purpose"; this already concedes too much. That there just is a 'nature
of design' is the Platonic presumption, not the empirical
demonstration. The point of appeals to ordinary language are to ensure
that the concepts that we are clarifying, which we have first taken
from ordinary language, are not distorted when we attempt to use them
in formal inquiry. The difficulty is that we ordinarily have no problem
working with (using on a daily basis) 'fuzzy' concepts. We understand
what we are saying in these ways. This is what makes formal inquiry
about these matters problematic and not at all straightforward.
Your remark about observing brain activity when people design is
relevant here. Would any empirical results (of different brain regions
lighting up, for instance) be sufficient for you to abandon Simon's
definition of design? Different subjects might exhibit very different
regional brain activity when doing the same task (for it is the case
that some children with damage to particular brain regions are still
able to learn to do what that brain region was supposed to be
responsible for—other regions of the brain 'do the job'). Would that
justify us saying that they are actually doing different things? The
shift between two similar tasks may show very different brain activity
in the same subject—would that mean that on one case they were
designing, but on the other they weren't? I hold, with a few others
here, that there isn't much, if any, contribution that neural imaging
can make to clarify these matters since we do not define design (nor
can we expect to) by observing neural activity. We can define other
phenomena with reference to neural maps, but not these kinds.
You concluded your message with a welcome proposal for how you would
like to see inquiry on these matters proceed. I'll conclude with a
practical request. It may be that Simon's (or another's) definition of
design is practically useful in inquiry. I'd be happy to hear of cases
where researchers have found it so, and how. But even if such
definitions are of use, the matters I've been concerned with here are
presupposed rather than addressed.
I've genuinely enjoyed the exchange.
All the best,
Ben
On 17 Aug 2007, at 13:38, Ken Friedman wrote:
--snip--
In contrast, to understand the nature of design, it helps to be able
to define design in some way that covers all design processes
regardless of scale or purpose.
Let me offer a few comparisons.
Newton's physics liberated us to think fruitfully about physics by
positing that the same physical processes operate everywhere and at
all times in the universe. The same laws govern the fall of an apple,
the cycle of the tides, and the orbit of Mars around the sun.
Einstein helped us to think even more fruitfully about physics by
explain a deeper set of underlying forces that embraced and restated
Newton's physics on an even larger scale -- or, said differently,
demonstrated that Newtonian physics is a limited case of a larger set
of laws.
This analogy is far too grand, but I want to show something about scale.
--snip--
One of the things that Terry Love suggested long ago is using brain
imaging to observe what happens when people design. Perhaps if we
were to do so, we'd discover some fundamental connections,
likenesses, and processes of the kind that we discover in learning
about how people learn or think. (F.ex., see the article "Blossoming
brains" on pp. 63-64 of the Economist, August 11.)
Available on-line at URL
http://www.economist.com/science/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9616794
It seems likely to me that we should find important common properties
among many design activities as well as significant different. We
might also learn that these properties show similarities to
activities I'd label design even though others may not. Of course, I
could be wrong. I'd be delighted to know either way.
It seems to me that one reason we are moving forward slowly in some
aspects of design research is that we have not yet developed a robust
descriptive language that allows us to identify, know, and be clear
what we're talking about. The very fact that we try to do so,
however, seems to help move the discourse forward. At least I think
it does.
I understand the objections to Simon's definition, but I don't accept
them. If someone can find a better description for design that
includes all instances of design that we can agree on as design -- if
only for the time of the conversation -- while excluding all
instances of that which we would agree do not constitute design, I'd
be interested to see it. What I've seen are objections to Simon's
definition, but no better propositions.
The kind of proposal I seek would have to offer an operational model
of the design process, that it, a description of the verb design.
--snip--
I would be interested to see alternate proposals for a comprehensive
definition, as contrasted with looking at more critiques of Simon's
definition.
For that matter, I'd even be interested to see some crisp, articulate
definitions of limited cases of design. That might already help us to
open some new ground.
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