On the Ethics of Maintenance and Repair

The moral significance of work that grapples with material things may lie in the simple fact that such things lie outside the self. A washing machine, for example, surely exists to serve our needs, but in contending with one that is broken, you have to ask what it needs. (p.16)

For Crawford, manual engagement with the world involves more than intellectual development or self-esteem, it also has a bearing on moral character. In particular, the experience of struggling with an external reality helps combat one’s narcissistic tendencies.

Fixing things, whether cars or human bodies, is very different from building things from scratch. The mechanic and the doctor deal with failure every day, even if they are expert, whereas the builder does not. This is because the things they fix are not of their own making, and are therefore never known in a comprehensive or absolute way. This experience of failure tempers the conceit of mastery; the doctor and the mechanic have daily intercourse with the world as something independent, and a vivid awareness of the difference between self and nonself. Fixing things may be a cure for narcissism. (pp.81-82)

He designates work like fixing a car or caring for sick patients as “stochastic arts,” those practices that address things which are “variable, complex, and not of our own making, and therefore not fully knowable” (p.82).

This description reminded me of Horst Rittel’s idea of “wicked problems” (which comes up in literature about systems design and planning), though Crawford focuses more on the external nature of the work and the consequences on the character of the worker.

Any discipline that deals with an authoritative, independent reality requires honesty and humility… If we succeed, we experience the pleasure that comes with progressively more acute vision, and the growing sense that our actions are fitting or just, as we bring them into conformity with that vision. This conformity is achieved in an iterated back-and-forth between seeing and doing. (p.100)

He views the experience of failure as formative, fostering a healthy kind of humility in our relationship to the world. And yet, it is meaningful and pleasurable to submit to this relationship because (paradoxically) it allows you to feel a greater sense of agency and gives you more opportunity to act in the world.

One way I’ve seen design distinguished from other concepts like art and science is through a focus on service to others. You can see this in common practical advice like “avoid designing for yourself” or the advent of human-centered design.

Like Crawford’s “stochastic arts,” this notion of design asks you to approach work with humility in order to see a situation from another’s perspective. It feels at odds with the popular idea of “unicorns,” “ninjas,” “starchitects,” and “genius” designers, a parallel to the narcissism Crawford wants to dispel.

It may just be my own personal nature as a quieter individual, but designing is more rewarding for me when it’s rooted in a greater context outside of my own creativity. My experiences line up with Crawford’s idea that an approach of humility can lead to meaningful experiences of empowerment through action. For this reason, I think there’s something to the idea design as a basic human capability that teaches attentiveness and understanding.