Mirroring

You create empathy by first gathering information about a person’s perspective and needs. What are this person’s hopes, concerns, and fears about a subject? Listen and record the answers. Next, find a spot where you can be alone and repeat back to yourself what you heard. Try to recount the person’s exact body language and temperament. Was she hesitant? Was he chortling? Granted, this part of the exercise may seem theatrical, but you are not trying to win an Oscar. Whisper to yourself. You need not yell and swing from the chandeliers. The goal of the exercise is to realize what the person needs—not what you think the person should need. The result is a much richer understanding of the other person’s perspective.

Although mirroring may help solidify the bonds between designers and users, it is ineffective in establishing a connection that is being refused. In 2011, a group of researchers from the University of California San Diego conducted a study⁵ in which participants watched mock job interviews. Some interviews were straightforward and professional, but others involved the interviewer being intentionally condescending and unfriendly to the interviewee. In each case, the interviewee physically mirrored the interviewer. The study, led by Piotr Winkielman and his colleagues, returned an interesting result: the study participants registered the interviewee as less competent when mirroring an unfriendly interviewer.

The behavior of a hostile person should not be mirrored for many reasons, namely because it fails to build empathy. It is also a scientific argument for keeping your cool; after all, you may occasionally face hostility, but you still have to look at yourself in the mirror each morning.

Active Listening

Active listening is listening without judgment. In this exercise, your job is to understand what you are hearing, not to approve of what you are hearing. Our natural response to hearing another person speak is to form a judgment. When we do, we wait for the person to stop talking, so that we can confirm our own beliefs. A user might tell us, “I think this button should be red. It’s my favorite color and… blah… blah…” Then, we begin to think of all the reasons why he is wrong: his failure to notice the blue buttons, his hubris to art direct our work, and his unfortunate hairstyle. Rather than listening, we busy ourselves with what we are going to say in response. Instead, we should focus on the words he is saying. When we begin to form a judgment, we should abandon it immediately. We have the rest of our lives to think about own opinions, but, for right now, at this moment, we want to only listen. Why? Because we cannot empathize with those we do not hear.

Even with empathy, we sometimes confront seemingly insurmountable challenges—challenges that confound, frustrate, and vex the most empathetic of creators. Next, we will tackle wicked problems.

Wicked Problems

Wicked smart. Wicked pissa. Wicked awesome. Wicked old. Wicked muggy. Wicked broke. Wicked stoned. Wicked sad. Wicked good. Wicked fast. Wicked long time. Wicked problems.

If you have spent any time with a native Bostonian, you have undoubtedly heard the word “wicked” used as an adjective, adverb, and a noun. The term is an intensifier: add wicked to any other word and you are left with a greater version of it, albeit one that is occasionally crass. When Horst Rittel and Melvin Webber coined the phrase “wicked problems” in 1973, they too meant to convey a greater version of a word: wicked problems are problems not solvable by reasoning alone.

Reasoning has solved problems in mathematics, chemistry, physics, and biology: Dmitry Mendeleev formulated the periodic table; Grigori Perelman solved the Poincaré conjecture; the CERN team proved the Higgs boson. Elusive as these solutions were to find, right and wrong answers did exist. Right and wrong answers to wicked problems do not.

Without a right or wrong answer, a wicked problem has no endpoint. The wicked problem evolves as more attempts are made to solve it. Social injustice, income disparity, and environmental degradation all stand as examples of wicked problems. They frequently manifest as solutions to other wicked problems. For example, we could eliminate all fossil fuels tomorrow; however, such a solution may harm the economies of developing countries. Even if you disagreed with the premise, you must agree that climate change and economic disparity are difficult problems to solve simultaneously. An answer to one often negates the answer to the other.

Luckily, we face less daunting challenges when designing software. However, we still encounter wicked problems. Goals often conflict: expert users demand flexibility, where novice users desire succinctness; businesses want to sell high, when customers wish to buy low. At best, we address a particular need for a particular person at a particular time. But if there is no right or wrong answer to a wicked problem, how do we design a solution?

Again, we return to empathy. Even the wickedest of problems can be diminished by lessening a problem for just a few people—even one person. Although we never solve a wicked problem, our repeated attempts can meaningfully improve user experiences.

For example, Facebook knows it cannot solve all disputes among its 1.8 billion users. Allowing free-flowing communication while simultaneously preventing objectionable speech is a wicked problem . Improving one complicates the other. However, in 2012, Facebook realized it could improve the experience of users who were being bullied. To do so, Facebook launched its Bullying Prevention Hub .⁶ It offered practical advice and useful reporting tools to teens, parents, and educators. Most people will likely never encounter a need for such information, but for the few that do, it could be a lifesaver.

In an adaptation of the essay The Star Thrower ,⁸ by Loren Eiseley, a boy walked along a sandy shoreline and noticed an old man standing amongst countless beached starfish. The old man picked up the starfish one-by-one and threw them back into the ocean. He repeated the behavior over and over again, despite the slew of starfish still left scattered across the beach. The boy called out, “There’s too many; you are not making any difference!” When throwing a starfish back into the waves, the old man replied, “It made a difference for that one.”

Incrementalism rarely stirs the heart. But, small improvements over time can amount to large reductions of effort, frustration , and abandonment. Not every problem needs to be solved to enhance a user’s experience. Every bit helps. Now, that’s wicked cool.

False Consensus Bias

For nearly 500 years, astronomers have embraced the belief that the Earth travels around the Sun. Nicolaus Copernicus wrote about his heliocentric theory in his 1543 book, On the Revolutions of the Heavenly Spheres .

Copernicus’ work revolutionized astronomy. However, at the time, many people did not agree with his theories. Scholars and clergy ridiculed Copernicus, and in 1616, the Vatican banned his book. Luckily, Copernicus had the forethought to die on the day of its first publication. He avoided the worst his critics had to offer.

We can understand, and even partially excuse, the ignorance of the people in the 16th century. After all, they feared the unknown. Witches, lunar eclipses , and even red-haired people terrified the populations of Europe.¹⁰ It is no wonder that the vastness of our universe frightened many of them as well.

Although witchcraft, celestial events, and gingers still scare some of us, we have advanced our thinking over time. We evolved. Yet, you may find it surprising that recent polls indicate that 20% of us still think the Earth is the center of the universe¹¹. This data may seem erroneous, but also consider that it took until June 1999 for the Vatican to pardon Copernicus. ¹²

We like to believe that others agree with us. In fact, the statement “we like to believe…” demonstrates this point. It is an overestimation based on my bias about what I think you and other readers might feel. Psychologists refer to this overestimation as the false consensus bias. We are bad at guessing how others feel and think. We regularly believe others share our political, social, and religious views. We even believe that all people know the Earth travels around the Sun.

We may never find ourselves debating the merits of heliocentric theory, but we will encounter false consensuses. Such bias happens frequently when designing software. We believe users share our knowledge. We expect them to behave like we do. We think users will act reasonably. Although these assumptions sound logical, we would be wrong.

False consensus biases compel us to test software designs. Users believe their views are reasonable and worldly, but they swim in a sea of biases. They lack empathy, believing software should address their specific needs, disregarding the various needs of other users. Without empathy, we design software in the same way. Neither the designer nor the user is immune to false consensuses. Empathy is our safeguard, because only when we validate our assumptions across a wide spectrum of other people can we determine if a belief is shared or individualized.

Fellow astronomers tested Copernicus’ beliefs, and this gave us a greater understanding of our universe. Yet, it is important to remember that this understanding was not, and is not, universally shared. Even after 500 years, we still have a few holdouts. The future experiences you create will challenge your users’ biases, your team’s biases, and your own. Practice empathy and recognize that each of us sees the world from a unique vantage point. Sometimes these views align. Sometimes they do not. Empathy does not create consensus , but it does help keep our biases down to Earth.

Good Experience for All

The moral philosopher John Rawls spoke of empathy in his book A Theory of Justice. ¹³ Although he never directly referred to empathy in his text, he orchestrated a prime example of empathetic thinking. He constructed a thought experiment by asking people to design their own society.

In Rawls’ experiment, you design your version of a perfect society. You must first decide how you want your society to function, choosing from among several possible freedoms, liberties, rules, regulations, and employment opportunities. For example, perhaps only women with a high IQ are permitted to vote. Maybe only citizens capable of 100 situps are allowed to eat fattening foods. Or, perhaps only heterosexual couples are entrusted to raise children. Once you are finished, you live in a society of your own making.

The catch: you have not been born yet and you do not know who you will be. You may be rich. You may be poor. You may be male or female, gay or straight, advantaged or disadvantaged. What type of society will you build to maximize your chances for happiness and fulfillment? Rawls contends that you would be best served to design a fair and just society, devoid of prejudice, intolerance, and bigotry. Because you never know—you could be a millionaire or a pauper, an Olympic athlete or lung transplant recipient, the next Albert Einstein or the next Homer Simpson. A perfect society is an empathetic one.

When we design an experience, we also look to perfect it. We create freedoms and rules, deciding what users can and cannot do. We allow users to read an article, or we erect a paywall. We permit users to opt out of receiving emails, or we spam them. We enable users to easily cancel their accounts, or we require them to run through a customer service gauntlet. Like Rawls ’ experiment, we would be best served to design a fair and just experience. If you were suddenly thrust into the user’s role, would the experience be a good one? To craft a good experience for all users, we must empathize.

Some users use applications on behalf of other people. A parent typifies this type of secondary user . A child may be the primary audience for an educational app; however, a parent may configure the software, set parental controls, and chaperone the child’s use of the app. The parent indirectly uses the software, as his or her experience is indirectly tied to the child’s. When we minimize a secondary user’s experience in favor of a primary audience, we alienate both audiences. Empathize with the needs of parents and you will enhance the connection with the child.

The salesperson-customer relationship is similar to that of a parent and child one. We need to empathize with a salesperson’s needs just as much as a customer’s. Tablet-based sales demos, estimate tools, product configuration apps, and guided purchasing all fall into this category of experiences. A salesperson may be a primary user when drafting an estimate, and become a secondary one when a customer reviews it. Likewise, the customer will be a secondary user until the salesperson relinquishes their control. The same happens when applying for a loan, buying a car, or visiting a doctor. If we wish secondary users to have a good experience, we must empathize with them, too.

In the marketplace, some users have one bad experience and never return. Industry estimates rank one-time app use as being as high as one in five. Apps become Chiclet-shaped gravestones, sitting idle and unnoticed, awaiting their inevitable deletion from the user’s device. Designers of such experiences have failed to see their creations through another person’s eyes.

We can never fully understand the needs of all users. They are too varied and numerous. Yet, when we design software, we still must account for a wide-ranging set of circumstances, aptitudes, and abilities. Our best tool for doing so is empathy.

When we empathize with users, we see their advantages and obstacles, their triumphs and struggles. And, if we are lucky, we sometimes get a glimpse into a better world.

Key Takeaways

Questions to Ask Yourself