Three years ago, I was weapons officer on
a submarine that was practicing to shoot torpedoes on a range. As
usual for a weapon shoot, we manned battle stations and the
close-quarters situation became even more intense. Sailors moved
as smoothly as they could in the tight control room, stacking
dots, plotting
bearings called out from sonar,
and trying to get a solution on the problem of
where the other guy was and what
he was
doing.
This exercise came after an exhausting Period of drills and
tracking. I was pushing myself and the weapons
control party
to stay alert and focused.
Operators
alternated between sheer boredom
and frantic
action as they tracked and
prepared to
fire. The tactical situation
changed rapidly
when we got to a good firing
position.
Quietly but quickly, our seething
mass of
submariners finished the
last-second
details for the launch. I had my
list of final
checks for the torpedo, including
ensuring
that one of many torpedo presets
was
properly set at “in” or “out,”
depending
on what we guessed our adversary
would
do.
At that point, it hit me: here
we were
at battle stations for hours,
with dozens
of people trying to get one
weapon out of
the tube. Everyone was stressed,
tired, and
thinking fuzzily
—but I had to set something in
or out.
Did “in” mean to turn on
the preset or turn it off?
Controls and displays
can became more complex in
rapidly moving situations, and
some of
the displays are misleading. In
such in-
stances, I should not have to
calculate raw
bearings. I want to know where
the enemy
is and what he is doing. What if
we have
to do this in the middle of the
night on a
war patrol? Who else on the team
would
remember what “in” versus “out”
means,
and why I should have to care
about it at
the last second before firing?
When we finally got in
position, the
captain ordered the weapon
launched. The
shot was successful and our
unwary tar-
get did not know what hit it.
Although we
performed well, the experience
made me
think more about why we did
things the
way we did. That day I started
studying
how we sense our environment.
Eventually, I came to harangue anyone
within
earshot about my theory of a big
red but-
ton on the console marked SHOOT
that
was easy for one person to manage
and
did all necessary tasks in just
the right
way.
I want to explain here why Navy personnel should care about
information de-
sign and why display and control
systems
look the way they do. I hope that
de-
signers of systems for sensing,
pointing,
and shooting will find my
observations
useful as well.
Bad Displays Can Kill People
Information can be displayed or
con-
trolled in a way that prevents
users from
understanding actual events. We
easily
could have missed our torpedo
shot by a
quick misplot of data or because
how
we formatted the data prevented
us from
properly understanding the
situation.
Data that people scan or
control
quickly can cause confusion. In
the short
time you have to fire, you have
less time
to integrate information and
errors can be
multiplied. Similar track numbers
and
confusion about an aircraft’s
altitude on
a system display designed to
accommodate small bandwidths and reduced computing power contributed to the
accidental downing of an Iranian Airbus
by the
USS Vincennes (CG-49).
Sometimes, improper
presentation of
information can cause disasters.
A con-
fusing array of simultaneous
alarms and
misleading displays contributed
to the
mistakes at the Three Mile Island
nuclear
power facility. A power-off reset
of Global
Positioning System data might
have
caused a forward air controller
to bring
an air strike on his own position
in
Afghanistan. How many buttons
have to
be pressed in exactly the
right way to
get the new contact entered into
your fire
control system? A person uses
more in-
formation to change a decision
than to
make that decision in the first
place. Does
the system you build or use take
that into
account?
Good design can help, too—a new
way
to present data can reveal new
informa-
tion. When the surface-ship
active sonar
SQS-53 AN/SQQ-89 (V)14 upgrades
were developed, a team of senior
Navy
sonar chief petty officers took
advantage
of a rapid prototyping system for
displays
that had not been used for
surface sonar
systems. The chiefs took
advantage of the
prototype designers’ human
factors knowl-
edge, acquired the necessary
engineer-
ing expertise, and used their
experience
and extensive at-sea testing to
make in-
cremental improvements. Because
the data
were shown in more effective
ways, ships
with the upgrade could sense what
for-
merly had been invisible to them
as new
contacts appeared.
Displays and Controls Are Not
Perfect
Most of the shipboard systems we work with were cutting-edge
engineering at the time the system was designed and installed.
Engineers fought through technical challenges to get a product
mature enough to put on a ship. They consulted operators to see if
the design made sense and revised the design accordingly. So, with
all the good people working hard on good equipment, why do we get
displays that take years of experience to interpret? The way we
build and integrate ship systems can provide clues—and indicate
possible improvements.
There are differences in skill sets between the people who build
systems and
the people who operate them. Most
of the
time, those skills are not in
information
design. For instance, an operator
can tell
you the pink and green screen
gives him
a headache, but usually be does
not know
that adding a flywheel effect to
the knob
makes the knob more natural and
improves data control. An engineer
can find
an innovative solution to shave
six millivolts from the current
draw of a portable widget, but
sometimes does not realize the
widget makes your hand hurt
after six hours. Human factors
experts, who spend their time
working on how to better integrate people with systems, may
not know that operators have for
years updated procedures for an
uncomfortable system so they
can work more efficiently. And
the human factors experts lose
credibility when they propose a
new idea that does not take into
account systems and procedures
that have been tried in the
fleet.
Rigorous requirements for
human factors standards in new
and upgraded systems could
more efficiently integrate these
skill sets to provide a better
product. Iterative designs plans,
such as the advanced processing
build (APB) for submarine sonar
systems, allow a closer coupling
between system programmer
and system user. Periodic up-
dates of the APB system provide
for significant and rapid improvements.
Building a cutting-edge,
unique widget also presents
challenges because of the
immaturity of
the technology. The baseline
stance that
“it is good enough to work
reliably, so put
it on the ship” often forgets
that the user
has to figure it out. The best
widget you
can make is useless to someone
who has
not learned it, who thinks it is
cumber
some, and who must spend time
integrating the system to an existing
routine.
Unfortunately, the burden of ensuring operators can best use the
widget falls to the people who make the widget—an inherent conflict of interest. The
difficult
part here is the delicate balance
between
usability and the need to get
equipment
on ships quickly. If you spend
too much
time evaluating alternatives and
tweaking,
you never get anything on the
ship. At the
same time, you cannot stop
innovating
once a gadget is installed, or
make innovations so hard or expensive that
you are
stuck with the original product.
Program
managers are working with the
difficult
problem of how to get continuous
improvement wherever it makes
operational ~
and financial sense to do so.
One vital part of the human factors problem is the length of time it takes for
people to become proficient with equipment. In the late 1990s, a multinational
corporation with decades of experience in providing solutions for retail
problems proposed a new cash register system for a high-volume department store
chain. The new system solved many problems and added capabilities to the
stores’ accounting system, but the chain managers rejected the proposal.
Although the experts who made the proposal met all requirements, they did not know one
important piece of design information: 80% of the clerks turned
over in 90 days. Thus, there simply was not enough time to train the clerks on
the new system and still get sufficient return on training and capital
investments. The retailers intuitively understood the turnover problem;
however,
they did not explain it
successfully to the
system designers.
Many Navy watch standers are at their stations for less than three months and
few are there for more than two years. How long does it take to recoup the in-
vestment of time and training to be proficient on a new gadget?
Sometimes the
speed of technology outpaces the
speed
of learning and the natural
conservatism of the operator.
Who counts that opportunity
cost whenever a new system is
proposed?
Gaps between design and engineering projects sometimes
create interesting problems in
controlling and operating ship
sensors and fire-control systems.
This is more of a systems integration problem than an information-design
problem. Nonetheless, a good human factors design requirement should consider the scams between development teams in the same way
that data architecture requires
that data architecture
requires
standard electrical interface.
For example,
the teams working on the separate
problems of weapon design and control
in the
latest heavyweight torpedo
program are
integrated.
More Data Can Be Better
The massive numbers of new computer screens and limited-function
tactical decision aids on ships are keeping commanders from quickly assessing
what is
going on. Some people see this as
getting
too much information. Others,
noting the
massive amount of data a human
can
process just walking into a room
and
looking around, conclude that we
get too
little information. The
difference between
the two positions boils down to
how much
attention you have to pay to
everything at
one time. As one expert puts it,
we can
look at a forest and pick out an
individual tree with lots of detail if we want to; but every tree
does not try to focus our attention with maximum intensity all the
time. Part of the integration inside a control center must be an
integration of all
the alarms and knobs and screens
so that
important information looks
important and
makes sense to people.
On the USS Kamehameha (SSN-642), we had a passive sonar system that
looked forward and an additional, nearly identical system that looked aft. The
backward-looking “hindsight” system was an important part of our ability to stay
out of harm’s way in complex littoral environments involving many
contacts to
comprehend and SEALS to insert
ashore.
During an upkeep, we were
scheduled to
get a display that allowed us to
see the
hindsight sonar on the conn (part
of the
control room); the Naval Undersea
War-
fare Center technicians initially
proposed
putting it next to the forward
display.
Our chiefs thought that
something did
not make sense—until we looked
behind
us and asked the technicians to
put the
display for the backward-looking
sensor
behind the officer of the deck.
Then, every
time we looked at the hindsight
screen,
our entire bodies reminded us
where we
were looking. This improved
decision
making and made ascents to
periscope
depth safer. Because we could see
the
other control panels, it also
allowed us to
better understand what was going
on in
the rest of the control room.
Conclusions
The way we display information
can
make all the difference in
operational effectiveness. Design and
construction of
equipment can impede human
factors design because the technology usually is new, different
experts have different skills, and the experts are not always able
to work together. The Navy’s acquisition and technology transition
process needs a mandated system for combining the requirements for information design
and
human factors. Improving the
display and
control of information will help
prevent
disasters, uncover useful data
that was not
apparent previously, and make
better use
of the people who fight ships.
Commander Godbey, a submariner,
is assigned to the
staff of the Chief of Naval
Operations’ Executive
Panel in Alexandria, Virginia and a member of the 2003 class of
the Global Masters of Arts Program at The Fletcher School.
Professor Edward Tufte’s books on
information de-
sign are classics and they have
wonderful examples.
See The Visual Display of
Quantitative Information
(Graphics Press, 1992) and his
web site at www.edwardtufte.com.
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