Episode 28: Fascinating

In which I use this hacker news discussion on Agile to ask the question: has the poacher become the gamekeeper?

I definitely talked about Questioning Extreme Programming by Pete McBreen, and Ron Jeffries has a take on that book too. I referred back to my punk rock model of software engineering from Episode 25. And I certainly talked about Scrum, too.

But I also talked about the importance of telling your stories, and I can’t put those in the show notes. Yet.

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Whoever “wins”, software freedom loses

I’d like to start by recapping the three distinct categories of interest in software freedom. This is definitely my categorisation, though only the third is novel and the first two have long histories of common recognition so this is hardly Humpty-Dumptyism on my part.

Free Software
The extension of freedoms of expression and engagement into the digital space. Free Software, sometimes “Libre Software” because of the confusion over the word “Free”‘s multiple definitions, is based on the ideas that a computer is property like any other artefact and that working with, playing with, and socialising via computers are personal pursuits like any other pursuits, and that the freedom from external interference with those enjoyments should be the same as in non-computer interests.
Open Source
The rephrasing of the ideas of Free Software to improve acceptance in (particularly American) business circles. Open Source as described is almost identical to the Debian project’s ideas of Free Software, but with the words “Open Source” instead of “Free Software” and the words “Debian software component” removed. The first reason for the rename is that Freedom implies either zero cost, which mid-1990s American business didn’t like, or social good, same. The second reason is that mid-1990s American businesses had come around to ideas of interoperability under the banner Open Systems, and Open Source sounds sort of like that a bit.
Open Sores
The co-opting of the technical aspects of Open Source (or, nearly equivalently, Free Software) without any of the freedom benefits, typically with the goal of providing zero-cost software development and associated professional services to for-profit companies. When a company CTO says “we love open source”, they typically mean that they love open sores: that they love how skilled developers from across the world will gladly sign CLAs transferring rights to exploit their creations to the company in return for a lighter green square on the proprietary software-as-a-service platform Github.

This is all pre-amble to a discussion of #uninstallman, the internet pressure mob removing the leadership of the Free Software Foundation over objectionable statements made by its founder, former president, and recently-surprise-reinstated board member, Richard M. Stallman (rms).

Let’s start with the obvious: the Free Software Foundation has not demonstrated good leadership over this matter. Clearly rms’s statements have distracted the conversation away from software freedom, and the FSF have not taken enough steps with enough publicity to resolve this issue and to get people talking about software freedom again[*]. The FSF has not even given clear enough separation between their policy and rms’s personal views for it to be obvious that anyone else on their board has any views, or control over policy.

It is right that the FSF take a critical look at their management, and ask whether the people who are leading the Foundation are the best people to promote the idea of software freedom.

Unfortunately, we are now at the point where whatever the outcome, software freedom has lost and Open Sores will fill the ideological vacuum. Because if software freedom is about the extension of existing freedoms into the online space, and the baying mob are calling for the blood of someone who said a thing questioning the definitions of words related to the actions of someone who was associated with someone who did known bad things, and for the blood of any other people who are associated with that person, it is easy to argue that the whole software freedom movement is hypocritical. You claim to support freedom of expression, and yet you actually deny the right for anyone to express views that disagree with your own? Where’s the unity of purpose?

Bradley Kuhn, policy fellow at the Software Freedom Conservancy, has talked about the damaging impact of rms’s personal views on the software freedom movement back in 2019, when this controversy was fresh; and in 2018 which is arguably where it started (to become public). He has also talked about the need to maintain a big tent; that being principled on your core issue gives you the legitimacy to take principled stands on other issues.

Taking an authoritarian, only-say-what-I-permit line on expression doesn’t leave any legitimacy to support freedom of expression in the software field. Unfortunately, if the FSF and more generally the software freedom community is unable to maintain principle on this argument, it will lose the right to be taken seriously on matters of software freedom. And then, the organisations who take the Open Sores line on software licensing will step up to fill the leadership vacuum. The business interest “Foundations” who think that software freedom means the freedom for big businesses to control the revenue stream while everybody gets to build their products for free. And then it may be decades before there is another software freedom movement with any legitimacy, and they may have to start from scratch.

[*] Arguably the software freedom movement was already in a difficult state, because the freedoms proposed were only really adopted by a small community with a technical interest in the details relating to those freedoms: a few tens of thousands of technologists, some intellectual property lawyers, and a small number of others. But that’s more about the difficulty of developing a mass movement and of translating the theory into activism, and doesn’t necessarily reflect badly on the characters or actions of any of the leaders in the movement.

Posted in FLOSS, freesoftware, fsf, GNU | 1 Comment

One person per task

One of the least teamy things I see with software teams is limiting the maximum and minimum number of items of work in process – tasks, stories, whatever you call them – both to the number of developers on the team. For some reason it’s always the number of devs, never the number of product owners, customers, QAs, or deployment people. Got four devs? Then there should be four tasks in process!

This approach is surprisingly backward given that we’re all supposed to have come so far as the leaders of the Agile Fourth Industrial Revolution 2.0 that we’ve internalised and transcended Goldratt’s theory of constraints. It’s the last holdout of the old Taylorian school of management. Everybody is working full-tilt, so if anyone runs into any trouble then everybody else is too busy to help them. If what they’re doing is upstream of anybody else’s work, then they are going to be blocked too, but rather than fix the blockage they’ll pull another task because one-person-per-task at all times!

So much is this at the core of software team thinking that when I’ve suggested in informal discussions that maybe we should do something else, people are confused. Are you saying that we should have a developer who isn’t assigned to a task, just in case? What does that person do the rest of the time, play Minesweeper? As if the only alternative to “one person per task” is “one person per task but perhaps there is another person”.

One person per task has the “nobody can help” disadvantage already mentioned. In fact, people are disincentivised from helping, because their task has their name on it and your task has your name on it. Did issue #1348 miss the release train? Bob is such a drag on the team, at least Karen managed to ace her ticket. Maybe we should reevaluate who leads on the next project.

You’ll see other effects of one person per task. Code reviews fall into one of two categories: “LGTM” and “axe to grind”. Only the people who are really invested in making sure that nobody ever misses off a const keyword, or uses function() where => would suffice, will take the time to commit to code reviews. Everybody else will skim-read, look at the CI output to see if the tests pass, and get back to their own task with their own name on it as quickly as possible. This loses both the review benefit of code review, and the shared-understanding-of-the-code benefit too. Everyone only really understands the features they worked on individually, there just happens to be a big ball of those features in one repo.

Code quality suffers. Each individual is too busy chopping down trees to sharpen the saw, because there’s always a next task for each developer to do.

Everybody else has been under-resourced. We need one developer per task, because what I can see is features in a UI and the only people shovelling features are the devs. QA is a cost centre, so if we can get one QA (or at most, one per team) then let’s do that. Same with ops. Infosec, coaching, UX, and other nice-to-haves can be consultants as needed. Weird how our devs are ticking off tasks like billy-O, and nothing’s getting through to release!

The alternative to “one person per task” is not “one person per task and some change”. It’s “one objective per team”. Set the goal, and let people work out what to do about it and how everyone contributes. As they used to say, “give them the environment and support they need, and trust them to get the job done”.

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Episode 27: High-Performance Computing and the 1950s

In which we investigate the question why are climate models written in programming languages from 1950?, the discussion some programmers had about it, and the phenomenon that programmers seem to think that everybody else’s programming work just can’t be that difficult.

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The Vizzini Effect

A bunch of the topics I wanted to discuss all turned out to have a common basis, so I’m going to write the post about the commonality using a couple of examples from the specific topics for illumination. Maybe I’ll come back to those topics in more depth later, each one is itself interesting and valuable.

The common thing is the Vizzini Effect, named after the Sicilian in the Princess Bride. In the movie/book, Vizzini often describes events as “inconceivable,” to which Inigo Montoya replies “you keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means”. The Vizzini Effect in software engineering (and undoubtedly in other fields of endeavour too, I doubt we’re special) is when the same thing happens: a word or phrase seems to adopt a different meaning such that two different people, or two different groups of people, can mean it to use different things without either seeming malicious or disingenuous. In the examples I’m going to explore here, those groups are separated by time rather than space. But unlike with Vizzini, it’s not that one person is using a word in a weird way, but that collectively software engineers seem to have decided it takes a different meaning.

Examples of Vizzini Phrases

Object-Oriented Programming

OOP is perhaps the ur-example here, and definitely the one with the most obvious dog-whistle. “I invented the term Object-Oriented Programming,” says Alan Kay, “and I can tell you I did not have C++ in mind”. To Alan and that early group of Smalltalk programmers at Xerox, ParcPlace, Tektronix etc., object-oriented programming was extreme late binding and decoupling through message sending. These days, it is often programming in any language that has a “class” keyword, or a straw man meaning any form of mutable state.


In the discussion do you think Agile/Scrum is beneficial for software delivery?, the first answer (at time of writing) says “The whole thing was designed to give non-technical people more power over the ones who spent a lifetime honing their craftmanship.” The question asks about the surprising rituals and the extra layers of bureaucracy. That’s the opposite impression than the one I have, where pre-existing software engineering methods tried to minimise or even automate away the programmer contributions. The lightweight methods, promoted by (among others) the agile alliance, sought to build projects around motivated individuals, giving the support they needed but leaving them alone to get the job done. The alliance members thought that the best architectures and designs were created by self-organising teams: a far cry from imposing methodologies to remove power from technical contributors.

Design Patterns

Design Patterns in software used to refer to the Christopher Alexander idea of identifying repeating problems in architecture and building a shared language that succinctly communicates understanding of the problem, solutions selected, and trade-offs in those solutions. These days it seems to mean any of the examples of design patterns in the Gang of Four book on early-OOP implementation patterns, and no others.

Free Software

The Free Software Foundation and the GNU project were created with the goal of extending desirable human rights and liberties to the world of computing. These days it seems to mean “open source, but said by a person who uses the word actually a lot”.

Open Source

The Open Source Initiative was created to generalise the Debian Free Software Guidelines out from the Debian project to general business rules for software, based on the prior successful Open Systems movement and the liberties identified in the Free Software Movement. These days it pretty much means making the components needed to build SaaS subscription products available at zero cost.

Software Engineering

In 1967, software engineering was a provocative term, meant to imply that the art of creating software would be somewhat improved if it had a socio-scientific basis. These days software engineering is two words anyone who gets or wants to get paid for programming uses on their CV/résumé.

What happened?

My impression is that three things changed, and that two of them are almost the same. The origins of all of these phrases are in particular times in history, made by particular people, talking in specific contexts. Time has changed, which has changed the context (or at least the relevance of the original context), the people who said the things have changed, and so many new people have entered the field that a majority of practitioners no longer know who the original people were, nor have experienced the context in which they spoke.

It’s entirely possible, for example, that the agile methodologies which were lightweight reactions to software engineering around 2000 are oppressively bureaucratic in 2021. We expect to be able to release software multiple times per day now, using analytics and telemetry to understand in real time how it’s being used. The agile folks wanted us to release up to every two weeks and to talk to someone before doing it, ugh!

Some people talk about an Agile-Indu$trial Complex, suggesting that there’s some shady cabal of consultants and certification bodies conspiring to make us all agile so they can profit from it. Again, maybe true. Others talk of companies who “talk the talk without walking the walk”: they got the consultant in, decided which parts of this whole Agile thing sounded nice or relevant, and adopted those things then trumpeted their “fully agile workflow” on their websitesfax banners.

And, of course, there’s the telephone game. Even those of us who heard about it from the horse’s mouth—maybe worked on an XP team, or read “Free Software, Free Society”—will have learned a slightly different thing than what the originators were trying to teach us, or thought they were teaching us. When telling others, we’ll have misremembered, and adapted, and extemporised. And so will the people who learned from us, and so on.

The telephone game is subject not only to slow evolution, but to a Byzantine Generals attack. If someone wants, for example, OOP to die so that their preferred paradigm get used instead, they can inject a false message into the call graph. This is where Vizzini meets Lewis Carroll’s Humpty-Dumpty: I keep using this word, and I do not think it means what you think it means.

Take into account the fact that most people who work in software now didn’t work in software five years ago, and that this was true five years ago and so on, and you realise that the vast majority of people will have learned about any “classic” idea in software from a telephone conversation.

What to do?

Well, the first question to answer is, does anything particularly need to be done? Maybe these are ideas that have had their time, and can just fizzle out. But evidently for all of the examples above enough people want the ideas to continue that they (well, we obviously) keep trying to dredge the original discussions out of the history books and put them back into contemporary discourse. To do this, they need recontextualising. For example, nobody cares that Richard Stallman couldn’t get a printer driver in the 1970s, but maybe they do care that there are things that they aren’t allowed to do with the smartphones they think they paid for. That’s how ideas of software freedom could be reintroduced.

Maybe the original phrase has become toxic and needs to be retired, without the original meaning being lost too. That is, whether you like it or not, the reason that “Open Source” was created as a term: to remove deliberate and accidental confusion over the word “freedom” in a business context, and to provide familiarity to people who had already adopted Open Systems ideas. It’s why Devops exists: to tell the stories of Agile again, but to those who didn’t listen the first time, or who listened and heard the wrong thing.

The telephone game can’t be avoided. You have to keep telling the stories if you want new people to hear them, and that means accepting alterations in their re-telling. And you need there to be more than one raconteur, even if they’re telling slightly different versions of the story. Don’t count messiahs, count prophets. Only don’t count prophets, count gospels. Only don’t count gospels, count churches. Only don’t count churches, count preachers.

You’re never going to get every programmer or software professional in the world to agree with your interpretation of some phrase. But you can use contextually-relevant stories to tell people things that might help them make better software, and you can follow up “I do not think that means what you think it means” with a conversation in which you both learn something. Maybe it’s your understanding that’s wrong?



I do a lot of writing, podcasting, presenting, and streaming about how to make software. Most of it has been free, still is free, and I don’t intend to change that. It’d be great if you are able and willing, for you to support that free work by becoming a patron. No obligation!

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Episode 26: more engineering please

In which I discuss whether the reaction to traditional software engineering in works like Software Craftsmanship: the New Imperative didn’t throw out significant amounts of baby with the bathwater of waterfall processes and CASE.

I also mention my popular post reasoning about code is a scam, in which I explain that you should not be struggling to understand the software, but the problem.

And I discuss my Patreon! If you like this podcast and anything else I create and would like to help me to do more of it, please consider becoming a patron.

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Cap in Hand

You’re probably aware that between this blog, De Programmatica Ipsum, and various books, I write a lot about software engineering and software engineers.

You may know that I also present a podcast on software engineering topics, and co-host two live streams on Amiga programming and Objective-C programming.

I do all of this because I want to. I want to engage in conversations about software engineering; I want to help my colleagues and peers; I want to pass on my experience to others. Of course, this all takes rather a lot of time, and a not-insignificant amount of money. Mostly in hosting fees, but also a surprising chunk on library memberships, purchase of out-of-print materials on software engineering, and event attendance. More than my academic (i.e. not-for-profit) salary was designed to withstand. None of these projects is ad-supported, and that’s not about to change.

I’ve launched a Patreon page, where if you enjoy anything I write, say, or show, you can drop me a little bit of cash to say thanks. There’s no obligation: nothing I currently make freely available is going behind a paywall, and I’m not planning any “subscriber-only content” in the future. All I’m saying is if you’ve enjoyed what I’ve been producing, and having my voice in the software engineering fray, here’s another way in which you can say thank you.

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“Best practice” is less of a scam than claimed

Another day, another developer explaining that they don’t follow some popular practice. And their reason? Nothing more than because other people do the thing. “Best practices don’t exist,” they airily intone. “They’re really mediocre practices”.

In one sense, they’re correct. Best practices need to be evidence-based, and there’s precious little evidence in software engineering. In a regulated profession, you could avoid using accepted best practice, but if something went wrong and you ended up on the receiving end of a malpractice suit, you would lose.

So best practice as an argument in software engineering has two weaknesses: the first is that there’s no basis in evaluation of practice; and the second is that being a monetised hobby rather than a profession there’s no incentive to discover and adopt best practice anyway.

But those arguments mean that best practices are indistinguishable from alternative practices, not inherently worse. If a programmer discards a practice because they claim it’s considered best practice, they’re really just stamping their foot and shouting “I don’t wanna!”

They’re rejecting the remaining evidence in favour of the practice—that it’s survived scrutiny by a large cohort of their peers—in favour of making their monetised hobby look more like their headcanonical version of the hobby. “We are uncovering better ways of making software by doing it and by helping others to do it” be damned: I want to use this thing I read a substack post about yesterday!

Dig deeper, and you’ll find only platitudinous justification based on thought-terminating cliche: I’ve already covered “Reasoning about code”, and maybe some time I’ll cover “Right tool for the job”. This time, let’s look at “things won’t advance unless some of us try new ways of doing it”.

People tried new ways of making new steam engines all the time, during the industrial revolution. People tried new ways of making chimneys all the time, during the 15th and 16th centuries. A lot of factories and trains exploded, and a lot of buildings burnt down. If you live in a house with a chimney now, or you have ever taken a train, it’s significantly less likely to have self-immolated than at earlier times in history.

It’s not, for the most part, due to misunderstood lone geniuses rejecting what everybody else was doing, but a small amount of incremental development and a large amount of theoretical advance. It’s no coincidence that the field of thermodynamics advanced leaps and bounds during the steam age. Brad Cox makes this point about software too, in almost everything he wrote on the topic: you don’t get as much advance from random walks in the cottage industry as you do from standardisation, mass production, the division of labour, and interchangeable parts that can be evaluated on merit with reference to a strong theoretical underpinning.

Of course, the “reason about code” crowd try to stop this from happening, because if that advance happened then the code-reasoning would quickly disappear to be replaced with the problem-domain-reasoning that’s significantly harder and less of a hobby. Hence the sabotage of best practice: let’s put a stop to this before anybody realises it’s more than sufficient to the task at hand.

Alan Kay once referred to a LISP evaluator written in LISP as “the Maxwell’s Equations of software”. But what software needs before a James Clerk Maxwell are the Gibbs, Boltzmanns, Joules and Lavoisiers, the people who can stop us from blowing things up in production.

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[objc retain] stream

Starting next week: [objc retain]; in which Steven Baker and I live-code Objective-C on a modern free software platform. Wednesday, February 10th, 1900UTC. More info at objc-retain.com.

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“Reasoning about code” is a scam

Another day, another post telling me to do something, or not do something, or adopt some technology, or not adopt some technology, or whatever it is that they want me to do, because it makes it easier to “reason about the code”.

It’s a scam.

More precisely, it’s a thought-terminating cliche. Ironic, as the phrase “reason about” is used as a highfalutin synonym for “think about”. The idea is that there’s nowhere to go from here. I want to do things one way, some random on medium dot com wants me to do things another way, their way makes it easier to reason about the code, therefore that’s the better approach.

It’s a scam.

Let’s start with the fact that people don’t think—sorry, reason—about things the same way. If we did, then there’d be little point to things like film review sites, code style guides, or democracy. We don’t know precisely what influences different people to think in different ways about different things, but we have some ideas. Some of the ideas just raise other questions: like if you say “it’s a cultural difference” then we have to ask “well, why is it normal for all of the people in that culture to think this way, and all of the people in this culture to think that way?”

This difference between modes of thought arises in computing. We know, for example, that you can basically use any programming language for basically any purpose, because back in the days when there were intellectual giants in computering they demonstrated that all of these languages are interchangeable. They did so before we’d designed the languages. So choice of programming language is arbitrary, unless motivated by external circumstances like which vendor your CTO plays squash with or whether you are by nature populist or contrarian.

Such differences arise elsewhere than in choice of language. Comprehension of paradigms, for example: the Smalltalk folks noticed it was easier to teach object-oriented programming to children than to professional programmers, because the professional programmers already had mental toolkits for comprehending programming that didn’t integrate with the object model. It’s easier for them to “reason about” imperative code than objects.

OK, so when someone says that something makes it easier to “reason about” the code, what they mean is that that person find it easier to think about code in the presence of this property. I mean, assuming they do, and are not disingenuously proposing a suggestion that you do something when they’ve run out of reasons you should do it but still think it’d be a good idea. But wait.

It’s a scam.

Code is a particular representation of, at best, yesterday’s understanding of the problem you’re trying to solve. “Reasoning about code” is by necessity accidental complexity: it’s reflecting on and trying to understand a historical solution of the problem as you once thought it was. That’s effort that could better be focussed on checking whether your understanding of the problem is indeed correct, or needs updating. Or on capturing a solution to an up-to-the-minute model of the problem in executable form.

This points to a need for code to be deletable way faster than it needs to be thought about.

Reasoning about code is a scam.

Posted in code-level | 5 Comments