CONNECTICUT LIBRARIES
November 2001, Vol. 43, No. 10
I am soaring above a domain that I know well, searching for something that I know is down there. I savor the experience of climbing higher to take in a broad view of the landscape below. When something catches my eye, I swoop down for a closer look at the details. There is much here about which I have almost forgotten, but I know that I can find whatever I need by taking a brief reconnaissance flight. Again, I climb and soon spot a familiar landmark. I dive toward it, knowing that my search is almost over. Yes, coming into focus is the rarely-used spreadsheet that I need to complete my annual report. The zoom interface on my PC is so much easier than fumbling through layers and layers of folders, inventing and then trying to remember dozens and dozens of file names! Now, I concentrate on the job at hand, not on the structure of the filing system.ZIP, the "zooming interface paradigm," is one of many alternatives to the Macintosh and Windows graphical user interfaces that Jef Raskin proposes. Any computer user who thinks, "there must be a better way," will enjoy The Humane Interface. Raskin believes that we have a long way to go before our computers are "user friendly" because the interfaces that dominate the market today ignore human nature. He scoffs at the notion that these graphic interfaces are intuitive, relating his experience introducing the mouse to early users. They picked it up from the table, jiggled it, poked at the ball, and spoke into it. They did not intuitively roll it on the tabletop to control the cursor.
Raskin defines a humane interface as one that "is responsive to human needs and considerate of human frailties." He implores designers to master "an ergonomics of the mind," to rely on the discipline of "cognetics" for its scientific observations on human mental abilities, and to create interfaces based on human behavior.
He educates us about "locus of attention." Humans have evolved with the ability to pay attention to one, and only one, thing at a time. That one thing may be something we choose to concentrate on, or it may be something that bursts into our consciousness. We have developed ways to compensate for this human "frailty." Activities performed repeatedly become habits. Since we no longer concentrate on these activities, we shift our locus of attention elsewhere. We all drive our cars without much thought until we face a tricky road situation.
Raskin contends that current interfaces ignore our locus of attention and misuse our tendency to habituate. Too often, software hides its warnings and alerts outside of our locus of attention. How often, he asks, have you typed a whole paragraph in upper case because you were concentrating on what you were typing, rather than on the "Caps Lock" indicator light? How many times have your deleted a file because you automatically hit the [Enter] key? In the first instance, you did not notice the green keyboard indicator because your locus of attention was the page with your handwritten notes. In the second case, the delete function looked like too many other functions that require hitting [Enter]. Your habituated nervous system caused you to hit [Enter] without thinking about it.
Raskin finds "modes" particularly troublesome. He is not just talking about word-processors and other programs that treat text and graphics differently, or Web page design programs that toggle users between "view" and "edit" modes. His definition is broader, including any situation that takes your habitual actions and gives them new and unexpected results without providing you with feedback that engages your locus of attention. By that definition, the [Caps Lock] key creates a mode, as do changes in user preference settings. This is also true of menu items that change typefaces, point sizes, colors, paragraph layout, etc. before you do any typing. Raskin advocates software interfaces that allow changes to be made only after the user has selected the items to be changed. An alternative to modes is the "user-maintained quasi-mode" which engages the user's locus of attention by requiring that several keys be held down before the desired function may be performed.
Viewing the operating system/application software dichotomy as a mode problem, Raskin advocates elimination of application programs. He believes that computers should come with standard functions performed the same way on every PC. When a user needs an additional function, he should be able to purchase it and add it to his machine's repertoire. The user would not spend huge sums on unnecessary upgrades. Nor would he waste time mastering new software. He would simply learn the new function. According to one of Raskin's design principles: "A computer shall not waste your time or require you to do more work than is strictly necessary."
(Note: The first paragraph of this column was inspired by the wonderful opening chapter of Konrad Lorenz' book, On Aggression, as translated by Marjorie Kerr Wilson)
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