Assessing the worthiness of posting in the AI era
Social media being disconnected thanks to the demise of Twitter remains something I think about a lot. I’m also wondering about the value of “posting” at all. For the posting addled among us, looking for ways to get our (posting) fix remains a constant need. Whether it’s using nuTwitter, Threads, Bluesky, Mastodon or some other wild alternative. For many early adopters, the blog era was a transformative time. In the era where words are cheap and might not be written by you at all, it’s difficult to imagine the value of investing in third-party platforms.
It depends on the goal. Are we writing to riff? Are the ideas throwing into the ether, begging for engagement or a way to generative ideas outside of your own head? It’s probably not that deep. I like a good long-form story. Documentaries are favorites of mine, but I’m not going to read even a reddit post that seems like it might be written by an AI. I think LLMs are mostly a scourge, but I’ve also come to understand how they could be utilized productively. So much of social media usage was about expanding networks beyond where you live, work or play. It’s not that it’s impossible to do this with LLMs, bots have been around a while. The extra work required to sift through the noise just makes everything worse to use.
I reflect a lot on whether it’s worth continuing to post — even as I do it — because the habit is difficult to break, and there are brief moments where it feels like “old times.” But so many good ideas get trapped onto networks we don’t own, forgotten about and/or lost. Even bookmarks can be difficult to dredge, and hundreds of other people’s good ideas get deleted and forgotten without a second thought, because all of this stuff is fleeting.
On social media platforms & separation of concerns
Twitter’s demise has brought a variety of imposters aiming to give users a semblance of what we had for years. Twitter’s magic had less to do with the platform itself, but rather, the people who found themselves there. For instance, you could have multifacted conversations in real time with different people around different topics. Twitter was like the sports bar, tech conference hallway conversatons & professional post-work gathering all at once. At its peak, it enabled academics, comedians & regular people to engage and connect in ways that weren’t possible at the same velocity. This isn’t a celebratory post, since social media has wrought far more than it delivered, but like any tool it’s about how you use it, not about the tool itself.
Not to double down too heavily on a metaphor, but the concept of ‘separation of concerns’ is a design principle focused on the distinctive sections of software. For instance, the separation of HTML, CSS and Javascript. When I think about separation of concerns in the context of social media platforms, it’s a bit different but related.
The nicest thing that the web 2.0 offered aspirants who had some other interesting thing to share, was the chance to get out of their own networks and into new spaces. Moving to a new city gives you a chance at reinvention, the same way that a new job can do. The stories about people in the pre-internet age who would leave home one day, turn up in a new city with a new name and family, having left their own one behind is essentially what platforms like Tumblr and Twitter did in the form of user names.
I remember when an internet personality who had a huge following from a forum community and eventually on Twitter passed away. His family had no idea about his other life and they raised thousands of dollars for a kid he’d left behind, and they were overcome by how many lives he’d touched through his internet antics over the years, they just knew him as the person he was and that was it. It’s so gratifying to see how many public scholars leveraged this era to grow massive followings, sell books, and transform their lives from backbenchers in Faculty Senate to global icons. The pathways to the public square is always full of gatekeepers, but being able to amplify your work to larger audiences, through consistency, is one of the most powerful parts of the demise of Web 2.0
This brings me back to separation of concerns and the original premise of this post. Facebook’s twitter clone “Threads” (via Instagram) has a feature that blasts Threads posts of your instagram followers into the instagram feed. This is an understanding growth nudge aimed at creating FOMO for any instagram laggards who refuse to jump on the Threads train, as it’s normie Twitter vibes continue to grow in the most anodine ways.
Besides the growth hacking reasons for feeding your users complimentary app content, it’s not user friendly. Casual posters might appreciate these nudges, as it might get their friends to engage with them on a new platform. But the beauty and joy of older social media was meeting people you’d never get to reach out to.
Celebrities hawking their newest sponcon were never the reason anybody signed up for Myspace, created a blog on Tumblr or spent hours on Twitter. You showed up because there wasn’t anyone in your immediate orbit to share your wacky ideas about random Star Trek episodes with, or to livereact to a TV show that’s in Season 1 and not popular enough for your friends to care about.
Beyond identity layer cakes, old school platforms scored wins by connecting people across interests and scenes accidentally. On Tumblr or Twitter, even your weirdest takes could find true fans and new BFFs. Knowing at least one wonderfully weird someone would embrace your eccentricities made scrolling forever feeds irresistible.
At its heart, old school web’s network domination was people connecting through shared weirdness and words, not code or cash. As platforms trade online/IRL separation and welcoming weirdos for digital dollars and attention, can today’s social giants resist turning vibrant human connection into metrics on a spreadsheet? I think there’s magic to be found elsewhere online — and in real life — and the platform age will continue to erode, having already lost of the magic of what made the original eras great.
Why we ought to be (civil) cartographers, not “experience” designers
Civil Cartography rejects the notion that designers can be jacks-of-all-trades overnight. Just taking a workshop on “design thinking” doesn’t magically impart deep knowledge from other fields. This isn’t about inflating the role of designers alone either. It’s about mapping invisible structures through collaboration.
For too long, designers have focused obsessively on pixels and aesthetics, rather than leveraging their skills to shape policy and impact at scale, often because they don’t have the context or backgrounds to contribute. Civil Cartography begins with designers building practical connections between speculative futures, user experiences, and the intricacies of how our world operates.
It brings experts from across domains together to speculate, theorize, critique, and act in unified ways. Civil Cartography takes abstract concepts out of academic silos and into the streets, shelters, and community centers that comprise our shared spaces. It grounds big ideas in on-the-ground realities.
We aim to push big thinkers to roll up their sleeves, to engage directly with communities, and illuminate the nuances that make society work, especially for those most vulnerable. Civil Cartography also strives to equip policymakers and leaders with deeper literacy of how technologies transform the social fabric, so they can govern digital spaces responsibly.
Technologists alone cannot solve immense societal challenges. We need multi-disciplinary collaboration and a shared grasp of the fault lines underlying injustice. Civil Cartography provides a discourse beyond siloed “engineering” or “architecture” - one that situates design and technology firmly in their human impacts.
In short, Civil Cartography re-envisions design’s role not as stylizing, but as collaboratively mapping a more just, equitable society. We draw lines that connect, making visible the invisible structures that dictate how we live together. Our shared objective is a future that benefits us all.
Let’s face it - fancy job titles like “strategist” or “systems thinker” sound impressive but don’t really say much. Sometimes design gets so bogged down in jargon and aesthetics that it loses sight of its real purpose - making a genuine difference in people’s lives.
That’s where “Civil Cartography” comes in. It’s all about creating design that connects to the real world - not just pretty screens and interfaces. I’m talking policy, community needs, the very structures we rely on each day. For a Civil Cartographer, design gets out from behind the computer and into the nitty gritty of improving how things work. It’s recognizing that design can reshape the policies, programs, and infrastructure that shape our society, if we let it.
Design conversations are too cloistered. There’s too much stuff hidden in journals that can be helpful, but that no one sees. Civil Cartography means jumping into the muddy trenches where real life happens. Engaging directly with communities, seeing what they need, designing based on what works for them rather than abstract theories.
With tech and physical life meshing more than ever, we also have to guide policymakers on how it’s transforming society down to its roots. Translate complex tech speak so they can make informed decisions. We’re the ones who get to help upgrade the policies that govern digital space and real space alike. This goes beyond slapping labels like “engineer” or “architect” on designers. It’s about being “Civil Cartographers” who understand the whole interconnected landscape and our role in charting a better course. Modern problems require a fresh perspective.
In short, Civil Cartography reimagines whatever “human-centered design” role in the world used to be. It’s about using our skills to map out a future that’s imagines something tangible. We all draw lines - Civil Cartographers make sure they lead somewhere that benefits us all.
Bringing (advanced) stats to junior tennis
Tennis players are often praised for their “work rate” — how much effort they put into moving around the court. But how exactly can we measure this? In team sports like soccer, work rate refers to off-ball contribution. Tennis is different, because in either singles or doubles, the work rate depends on how movement translates into winning points.
I’ve been observing this for years, but analyzing the data takes a lot of work. Getting match recordings can be difficult without using video systems, and I can only get footage from home games, not away. I wish high school tennis was more like basketball or football where filming matches was standard, but we’re not there yet and some coaches don’t allow it.
I record practices using Swingvision and show players the real-time data on their phones, which has been helpful. But for matches, I use a more laborious process of tagging video afterwards with Dartfish or Swingvision, less for efficiency and more to nerd out!
I drew inspiration from basketball’s “hustle stats” and soccer’s pressing intensity metrics. Why not bring that level of tactical insight to tennis? Here are the three metrics I created:
Work Rate quantifies effort through total distance covered per point. It’s scaled from 0-10, where 10 represents exceptional court coverage.
The formula is:
WR (0-10) = (Yards per Point / Maximum Expected WR) x 10
This shows how much ground a player covers in pursuit of each point, highlighting their physical exertion.
CLUTCH reveals effectiveness in pivotal moments. Using a baseline conversion rate of 40%, it measures performance on clutch points compared to expectations:
CLUTCH = (DPS% - Baseline%) x Conversion Factor
Positive scores indicate excelling under pressure, while negative scores reflect faltering.
NET Score
NET Score evaluates overall match efficiency by combining Work Rate and points won/lost. It assesses conversion of effort into points:
NET Score = WR x Conversion Score
Higher scores mean maximizing winning efforts with minimum exertion.
Seeing These Metrics In Action
Let’s examine a fictional match between Serena Smith and Taylor Jackson to demonstrate how these metrics work in practice, where the score was
The match score was 2-6, 6-3, 6-2 in favor of Smith.
Work Rate
- Serena Smith: 9.24
- Taylor Jackson: 9.35
Their nearly identical Work Rates show tireless movement and effort in covering the court.
CLUTCH
- Serena Smith: 3.84
- Taylor Jackson: -1.62
Serena Smith’s positive CLUTCH reveals her ability to capitalize on critical points. Smith’s negative score indicates she struggled during crucial moments.
NET Score
- Serena Smith: 87.34
- Taylor Jackson: 78.22
Doe’s superior NET Score demonstrates how she more efficiently converted effort into winning points compared to Smith.
The Benefits for Players and Coaches
Advanced analytics like these provide:
- A more complete evaluation of strengths/weaknesses
- Targeted insights to inform strategy and training
- Metrics tailored specifically for tennis’s dynamics
While the box score has its place, there is so much it fails to illuminate. Work Rate, CLUTCH, and NET Score shine a light on the hidden side of the game.
I drew inspiration from basketball’s “hustle stats” and soccer’s pressing intensity metrics.
Why not bring that level of tactical insight to tennis? Here are the three metrics I created:
Work Rate
Work Rate quantifies effort through total distance covered per point. It’s scaled from 0-10, where 10 represents exceptional court coverage.
The formula is:
WR (0-10) = (Yards per Point / Maximum Expected WR) x 10
This shows how much ground a player covers in pursuit of each point, highlighting their physical exertion.
CLUTCH
CLUTCH reveals effectiveness in pivotal moments. Using a baseline conversion rate of 40%, it measures performance on clutch points compared to expectations:
CLUTCH = (DPS% - Baseline%) x Conversion Factor
Positive scores indicate excelling under pressure, while negative scores reflect faltering.
NET Score
NET Score evaluates overall match efficiency by combining Work Rate and points won/lost. It assesses conversion of effort into points:
NET Score = WR x Conversion Score
Higher scores mean maximizing winning efforts with minimum exertion.
Seeing These Metrics In Action
Let’s examine a fictional match between Serena Smith and Taylor Jackson to demonstrate how these metrics work in practice, where the score was
The match score was 2-6, 6-3, 6-2 in favor of Smith.
Work Rate
- Serena Smith: 9.24
- Taylor Jackson: 9.35
Their nearly identical Work Rates show tireless movement and effort in covering the court.
CLUTCH
- Serena Smith: 3.84
- Taylor Jackson: -1.62
Serena Smith’s positive CLUTCH reveals her ability to capitalize on critical points. Smith’s negative score indicates she struggled during crucial moments.
NET Score
- Serena Smith: 87.34
- Taylor Jackson: 78.22
Doe’s superior NET Score demonstrates how she more efficiently converted effort into winning points compared to Smith.
The Benefits for Players and Coaches
Advanced analytics like these provide:
- A more complete evaluation of strengths/weaknesses
- Targeted insights to inform strategy and training
- Metrics tailored specifically for tennis’s dynamics
While the box score has its place, there is so much it fails to illuminate. Work Rate, CLUTCH, and NET Score shine a light on the hidden side of the game.
The Relativity of the Net Efficiency Tennis Score Across Levels of Play
This work rate model provides a framework to quantify player effort in tennis. It gives coaches an analytical edge to develop strategic game plans that maximize strengths and improve weaknesses. The metrics reflect both the physical and mental game - effort, efficiency, performance under pressure.
It’s important to note that the range of NET Scores will vary significantly across different levels of tennis. The standards for “Below Average” to “Excellent” are relative to the specific competitive tier.
At elite college or junior tennis, the baseline for an “Excellent” score is much higher than at high school level, given the greater intensity, athleticism and strategy involved. For a typical high school team, the effort and efficiency to achieve each NET Score category will differ. Coaches should calibrate expectations according to data from their competitive circles.
Moreover, collecting such detailed metrics may be challenging outside elite tennis. The resources to accurately measure distance, points played and conversion rates are often limited. While the NET Score offers intriguing insights, its applicability is greatest for programs that can support data-driven approaches.
In essence, the NET Score is a versatile but context-dependent tool. At grassroots levels, its principles can still inform coaching on movement and pressure conversion, even if the metrics are not rigorously tracked. The key is tailoring analysis to the players and teams at hand.
Measuring the impact of (design) consequences
I’m tired of talking about design, I want to focus on what we’ve created.
Design is inevitable. Like many unavoidable things, design constraints the ways services, systems & experiences are shaped. We see the fallout of these everyday. No one thinks about borders being design problems, but they are. With many people getting themselves in a tizzy about the newest design adjacent hotness — systems thinking, design thinking, even service design — it’s not ever asked what people are going to do with this newfound knowledge.
It’s pretty clear that we know now, people are looking for tricks to manipulate and consign people they don’t consider as part of their audience with design choices that can’t be fixed.
One of the problems with the so-called laws of things like user experience, is that we’re presupposing that people reach our websites, use our apps, or experience our services in a uniform way. Every time someone asks to speak to a manager, they’re an edge case. Some people have a legitimate gripe that can be solved at these low levels of interventions, but none of these experiences are consistent, and it’s the reason that you and a friend can visit the same restaurant, order the same food and walk away feeling like it was a subpar or stellar experience. It depends on who served you, what time of day you went, and perhaps many other smaller interactions that never get mapped.
Designers need to consider the externalities of present day design choices. I’m sure anyone who ever designed a delivery app didn’t think about the impact of this technology on entire communities. I’m sure lots of people who lamented the frustration of getting a taxi cab late at night, think there’s a lot of value in having a fleet of cars available at all hours of the day able to take them to their airport, home from a bar or ordering a car for a friend in a far-flung locale.
By themselves, interaction architectures aren’t bad. But thinking more widely about the ways that we’ve allowed a bevy of non-local tools consume many of the interpersonal connection points that used to exist locally has some merit. The genie is never going back into the bottle, but having policymakers and civic-minded people able to measure these harms will give us an ability to quantify what we’ve lost.
The incursion of AI onto everyday life makes it even more crucial to education and inform people about the challenges that exist, how these impacts can harm and devising standards and empowering a practice of designers who adhere to them and insist on holding the industry accountable. There’s a lot of talk about how people working in tech need more the liberal arts now more than ever, which I agree with.
The phenomenon of brand masking outsourcing reveals a quintessential design flaw - companies projecting brand omnipresence while operationally outsourcing to remote entities. This creates an illusion of authenticity but enables precarity at scale. Workers embrace the mirage of being brand employees, although in reality the jobs are outsourced.
This collective veil of ignorance obscures the harms that arise when no local employees actually represent the brand on their shirts. The social fabric depends on shared agreements and understanding. Such exploitative schemes appear cheaper but make communities poorer - emptying Main Street stores, reducing businesses that donate to local causes. What seems efficient on the surface often carries hidden costs to communal bonds and shared prosperity.
Consequence Impact Scoring
“Consequence Impact Scores” (CIS) could help assess design’s broader impacts. Like how economists measure value, CIS would quantify externalities. It would go beyond user-focused metrics to also consider societal, ethical, and interpersonal effects. CIS would thoroughly evaluate each design choice’s potential downsides, like isolation, ethics dilemmas, and community impacts. The final score would show the overall societal footprint, enabling more balanced conversations between designers, companies, and society.
Adopting CIS could promote accountability and transparency in design. Companies could better anticipate ripples and make informed, ethical choices. Public scoring could enable new levels of openness. CIS could also bridge tech and the humanities. A shared language around consequences could shift focus from just user metrics to holistic evaluation. CIS represents a paradigm shift toward conscientious design. Impacts would be measured and integrated from the start. Dialogue could evolve from metric monologues to diverse, nuanced conversations enriched by many perspectives. The screens mediating our digital lives would be created with deeper understanding of their broad footprints.
Our collective acquiescence obfuscates harm and limits envisioning humane design frameworks. This is where Consequence Impact Scoring becomes pivotal - by quantifying externalities and societal costs of current choices, it compels reevaluating policies and consensus that sustain harmful paradigms.
Advocating for CIS isn’t academic but an urgent call to action - urging policymakers, designers and the public to look past brand facades and into the designs shaping our realities. It’s an invitation to unmask hidden costs, challenge entrenched paradigms, and enable enlightened discourse on operations’ community impacts.
Together we can foster more conscientious design, where consequences are measured and integrated from the outset. The screens mediating our digital lives can be created with deeper understanding of their broad footprints.
Service design wasn’t designed to serve everybody
As I prepare to teach a service design studio course in the winter at a university, I must grapple with my own frustrations with the inadequacies of service design as a practice. Simply put, we’re not going to blueprint, journey map, or design our way out of intractable problems. It does not do any good to trace the steps of so-called “customer journeys” if we’re not prepared to actually do anything about solving them.
At its core, service design is a business practice. Its goal is to sell more widgets by making the experience of widget acquisition better.
This does not presuppose that you might not need any more widgets because you bought some yesterday or that you should diversify your acquisitions of other things.
No, it does not care about this.
We’re meant to encapsulate regular people into personas, ignore the people we dislike or don’t envision as part of the journey and get onward with the business of selling more, buying more.
Professor Cameron Tonkinwise wrote back in March about the things that service blueprints conceal, and how service designers — even if they’re thinking about these things — are not really incentivized to solve for these inadequacies because they’re not being paid to do that. Frankly, the entire challenge of the adoption of service design as a practice in the United States is largely due to our antipathy for providing widespread access to public services, specifically for people whom we as a society find undesirable. Depending on where you find yourself in the country, this disaste manifests itself in different ways, but nonetheless, it’s ingrained in our cultural milieu.
Alas, when I give talks about service design in other countries, I have to always caveat that while my practical foundations for the discipline come largely from imbibing sources that aren’t US-based, my perspectives are shaped by living — being born and growing up — in a place where I’ve had many opportunities to deeply understand the flaws of service design, because I’ve experienced this growing up in a small urban minority-majority city, attending Title I schools, living in rural areas throughout the Midwest, South & Mountain West and seeing how it manifests in cities to this day.
Service design gaps aren’t a reason to throw it out. Lots of good work developed that can help us improve everyday systems, services & structures. We need to be more mindful of where we can improve things.