All of the SCAD IDUS4Haiti design teams (and many more outside SCAD) are immersing themselves in news reports, data and on-the-ground accounts of the tragedy, trying to identify patterns in the complexity that may provide opportunities for design intervention. They are likely also absorbing an unreal sum of human suffering and misery.

Our empathic nature and training as designers leads us to get into the minds of our users; to try on their context with the hope of possibly making unspoken needs and desires explicit and actionable. While we can try our hardest to stay objective and focused on the work at hand, there are only so many photos of mangled children and extreme violence a person can take before it begins to take a toll, especially during periods of intense contextual inquiry. While it would be grossly insulting and arrogant to suggest a designer’s second-hand experience is anywhere near as traumatic as the real thing, the cumulative effect of continuous immersion – and obsession, as is so common in the designers I’ve met over the years – has a very profound emotional impact on those involved.

The concept of a global consciousness and a new empathic generation have been widely discussed over the last few years, as news-worthy horror is streamed in real time around the globe 24/7, with very real impacts on emotional health. Our work requires that we essentially sign up for a dangerous dose of the despair. With more designers moving into the social/non-profit sector, I think we as a design community need to make a concerted effort to proactively identify and address the effects of empathic-overload. Our friends need to be ready for what it will do to them.

The web is littered with practical advice for managing the stress that can result from emotionally jarring experiences, and everything seems to boil down to staying physically active and communicating with the people around you, especially those who can relate to the nature of that stress. These two general guides roll of the tongue quite simply, but the habits of design in practice can make them nearly impossible. Our quarters last ten weeks, much like the business cycles we will soon be bound to, forcing us to maximize output in as little time as possible. When a project kicks off we bid farewell to our social lives and lock ourselves in for the long-haul. I’ve seen cars parked outside Gulfstream, unmoved, for days at a time, and have heard legends of insane Industrial Design students who work days at a time, occasionally catching some sleep on the shop floors. This pace does not lend itself to a physically active lifestyle. As the weeks grind on and deadlines loom, the primary thrusters burn out and the auxiliary generators kick on, lasting just long enough to do a zombie-shuffle over the finish line.

If there were ever a perfect demonstration of dissipative structures in social organization, it would be a class project at SCAD’s Gulfstream building. We start with balance, new forces (eustress, distress, drama, challenge) energy the system, and we either collapse or grow to achieve new forms of order and stability. The series of (amazing) projects undertaken this quarter bring with them the potential for a level of emotional involvement that will certainly be new territory for some of our friends and teammates. I don’t have solutions, I only have a concern and the encouragement to keep an eye on each other. Plan a little downtime into your schedules and get the hell out of the shop once in awhile.

I’m excited to see so many designers so eager to design with the developing world, and I want to get an open conversation rolling about your experiences. Learning is a social practice, and all of your insights into the ideas I’ve shared here will magnify the value of what we all stand to learn. Please share your thoughts~