Commenting From the Cheap Seats

For as long as there was spectacle, human societies had cheap seats. The front rows were for the powerful, the noble, or the rich. The further away someone was, while still being considered as involved in the same event, the lower their place in society. These days, it’s almost always a function of wealth, or at least a willingness to pay the going rates.  

The Roman Colosseum had five levels, each specific to prescribed social categories, from the Ima Cavea (Auditorium) where the Emperor, Senators, Vestal Virgins, and nobility would sit closest to the action to the Maenianum Secundum in Ligneis (Attic) at the highest level furthest from it where the lowest classes and slaves would sit. 

The term “peanut gallery” comes from vaudeville, referring to the cheapest seats at the back or upper sections, and the cheap snacks consumed there. These patrons were also known to be the rowdiest hecklers, throwing peanuts at the performers on stage when displeased. Despite being furthest away from the action and, arguably, the least able to see and hear it, these patrons were the most willing to express their displeasure.

The “Howdy Doody Show”, a popular children’s TV show of the mid-20th century, used Peanut Gallery to refer to bleachers onstage where dozens of kids sat and sang the show’s theme song. This show may very well have set the pattern of having its audience also be the spectacle, guileless children thrilled to be there without knowing better.

These are similar to how we behave when it comes to things like politics and design. Those furthest away and most ignorant are also those most willing to critique loudly while not-so-secretly hoping to have the review that overshadows its subject. There are very few with the gifts of Roger Ebert, the late film critic, but even he was a real student of the art form with deep insight, and even when he stated an unpopular opinion, he did it with a thoughtful point of view.

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When I was in my 20’s and started to get some traction in my career, I also got progressively cockier and more self-assured. Of course this meant that I opined on many things, especially if it was somewhat connected to my so-called professional domains at the time: web design, video games, consumer electronics, and the tech industry. My middle-aged self of today is relieved that easy broadcasting platforms like Twitter didn’t exist, otherwise I would have gladly shared my cutting observations with the ignorant masses, and would have to live with my words living in posterity.

While working on video games, I remember speaking to a colleague who told me about meeting the senior designer of a well-known consumer electronics product. Even though they didn’t ask me what I thought, I had to tell them what I thought about the design of that product. It wasn’t flattering. I was smug. They looked at me like I was an asshole. It took me years to admit that I was, and not only this one time.

I then later got involved in designing consumer electronics products myself. It was harder than I expected. There were considerations that I never imagined that we had to design for, and I wasn’t even responsible for the industrial design. Who knew about heat, warping, injection molding, physical integrity, and the like? I had my arms full dealing with memory, frame rates, resolution, aspect ratios, color gamut, and lots of it-can’t-even-do-that.

Fast forward some years, and I had progressed even further in my career with a few more notches in my belt and a bit more air in my inflating ego. I was invited to an industry event where I was introduced to an obviously more senior designer than I. The first-generation of a brand new product had just come out, and this person was responsible for its design. I, obviously, had a critical view of this product, and I couldn’t help but ask about a couple of those design details that I disliked. When I looked this person up, I realized I had met one of the giants of the product design discipline who has been and continues to be responsible for many, many products that all of us are likely familiar with or customers of. No, it’s not Jony Ive nor was it the iPhone, but it would be almost as embarrassing as that.

And that consumer electronics senior designer I mentioned earlier? Well, they became the head designer for a couple large companies before founding a company that’s trying to change another massive industry. I’ve had the good fortune of having gotten to meet them socially over drinks more recently, and I can confirm that I clearly was and likely still am an asshole, but I was able to suppress that side of me better. It was fun.

These are only a couple examples where I have shown myself to be an uninformed, pompous ass with an overinflated view of my own opinion. Among the gifts of aging is the filing down of rough edges, and for that I am glad. However my memory of these moments hasn’t been lost, so I look back on many such moments of my life with what I hope is appropriate shame, forgiveness, and learning.

These are also among the many reasons why I have refrained from expressing public knee-jerk opinions on the topic or redesign du jour over the years. I have learned that it more often than not exposes my ignorance rather than my insight. I think that many who participate in the public design tarring & feathering with #designtwitter display this as well.

Aspiring and practicing designers – what we do is hard enough as it is without thousands of ignorant opinions being thrown our way. Find some solace in the fact that the vast majority of them are in it to hear themselves howl like so many stray dogs. If you want productive critique, find it from those who are good at it, are appropriately informed, and come armed from the practices of our discipline. Bonus if they actually have your best interests at heart and genuinely want to help.

When you feel one of these uninformed opinions about someone else’s work bubbling up because your favorite app updated its icon or something, please remember these three things, well-stated by Craig Ferguson.

1. Does this need to be said?
2. Does this need to be said by me?
3. Does this need to be said by me, now?

And if you ever figure out how to do this consistently, please do let me know.

Paolo Malabuyo is currently the UX Director for YouTube Ads at Google and an adjunct professor at Carnegie Mellon University Silicon Valley. This article was originally published on i4design.com.