Technology tends to make life complicated
W e tend to think that automation — and computers are the ultimate in automation — is supposed to make life easier, and sometimes it does. But even as it helps us do more, technology often makes life more complicated and difficult.
That isn’t Luddite talk. A long career in newspapers has meant working daily (and willingly) with computers, and I was an eager early-adopter of home computers.
However, I hope I never have to apply for social assistance, for several good reasons, but one of them would be the application process.
As outlined in reporter Katherine Dedyna’s story in last Sunday’s Times
Colonist, those seeking social services are expected to apply by computer or by phone. The online application requires Internet access, typing skills — and here’s the intimidating part — 90 computer page views.
If that’s something to be dreaded by a person who has used a computer daily for the better part of four decades, what is it like for someone who doesn’t type and who is not at ease with computers?
Applying through an automated phone system isn’t any more appetizing, raising the spectre of seemingly endless button-pushing prompted by an uncaring computerized voice.
And if you’re on a pay-as-you-go phone plan, that will burn up minutes and drain a battery.
Social Development Minister Michelle Stilwell says person-to-person service will always be available for those who need it.
Many applicants are comfortable with computers, but don’t own one. They could go to a public library, but as Stephen Portman of the Together Against Poverty Society observes: “People have pride — it’s difficult to go sit in a public space surrounded by other people and apply for welfare.”
Of the nearly 72,000 applications handled by the ministry last year, reports Dedyna, fewer than 10,000 were initiated in person or by phone. That indicates the majority of applicants are OK with the process, so why tie up ministry staff with virtual paperwork if people can handle it themselves?
Doing business over the Internet or by phone has become the norm. Who goes into a bank or a post office any more? Bills are paid, money is transferred and goods and services are purchased with a few clicks of a mouse. It’s quick, it’s convenient and who wants to go back to the old ways?
The trouble is, those who design the way we interface with our gadgets don’t always put the user first. And there’s a tendency among software developers to forget that the rest of us are not comfortable with complexity. We want it to be as simple as possible.
Part of my career has been spent helping with the development of systems for newspapers. I tried to ensure the systems worked for journalists, not the other way around. I was the liaison between the “geeks” and the “stupid users,” as the two factions sometimes called each other.
As one newspaper was preparing for a massive changeover to desktop computers from a mainframe system, a company was hired to train editors and reporters on the new system. Going into the training room one day, I found the trainers demonstrating an array of wonderful tricks the software would do, none of which had anything to do with the functions of the newsroom.
The people doing the training knew all about the software, and very little about what we did. They were burdening the trainees with needless complexity.
It’s easier to design a complex system than it is a simple one. If an automated system is user-friendly, functions smoothly and quickly and succeeds in doing its appointed task, that means some excellent programmers put a lot of work into writing code so that the computer does more, and less is required of the users.
Those who design systems intended to be used by ordinary people would do well to heed the words of Thoreau: “Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify, simplify!”
And in particular, those who design systems for the government should remember that the government is only the agent, not the client, and the system should be designed with the clients’ needs foremost.