The other day in Iceland, a tiny conference on the Future of Software Development opened with Michael Feathers addressing a recurring theme: complexity. Software development is drowning in accidental complexity. How do we fight it? he asks. Can we embrace it? I ask.
Complexity: Fight it, or fight through it, or embrace it? Yes.
Here, find tidbits from the conference to advance each of these causes, along with photographs from a beautiful cemetery I walked through in Reykjavik.
One way we resist complexity: keep parts small, by creating strong boundaries and good abstractions. Let each part change separately. The question is, what happens outside these boundaries?
Feathers complained that developers spend about ten percent of their time coding, and the rest of it configuring and hooking together various tools. This makes sense to me; we’ve optimized programming languages and libraries so that coding takes less time, and we’ve built components and services so that we don’t have to code queuing or caching or networking or databases. Hooking these together is our job as software developers. Personally, I want to do more of that work in code instead of screens or configuration, which is part of my mission at Atomist. Josh Stella of Fugue also says we should be programming the cloud, not configuring it.
Paul Biggar at Dark has another way to attack complexity: wall it off. Cross the boundaries, so that developers don’t have to. Or as Jason Warner put it, “do a lot more below the waterline.” The Dark programming system integrates the runtime and the database and the infrastructure and the code, so that system developers can respond to what happens in the real world, and change the whole system at once. This opens backend development to a whole realm of people who don’t have time to learn the a dozen parts and their interconnections. The Future of Software Development is: more people will be doing it! People whose primary job is not coding.
In any industry, we can fight complexity through centralization. If everyone uses GitHub, then we don’t have to integrate with other source code management. Centralization is an optimization, and the tradeoffs are risk and stagnation. Barriers to entry are high, options are limited, and growth is in known dimensions (volume) not new ones (ideas).
Decentralization gives us choices, supports competing ideas, and prevents one company from have enough power to gain all the power. Blockchain epitomizes this. As Manuel Araoz put it: “Blockchain is adding intentional inefficiency to programming” in order to prevent centralization.
Centralization is also rear-facing: this thing we know how to do, let’s do it efficiently. Decentralization is forward-facing: what do we not yet know how to do, but could?
Building one thing very well, simply, is like building a stepping stone through the water we’re drowning in. But stones don’t flow. Exploration will always require living in complexity.
Fight through it
Given that complexity surrounds us, as it always will when we’re doing anything new, can we learn more ways to cope with it?
To swim forward in this complexity, we need our pieces to be discoverable, to be trouble-shoot-able, and to be experiment-with-able.
Keith Horwood from stdlib is working on the democratization of APIs, those pieces of the internet that make something happen in the real world. They’re making APIs easy to document and standardize. Stdlib aims to supplement, not replace developer workflows: the tools pile higher, and this is normal. Each tool represents a piece of detailed know-how that we can acquire without all the details.
Keith Horwood and Rishabh Singh both pointed out that humans/programmers go from seeing/reading, to speaking/writing, and then to executing/programming: we observe the world, we speak into the world, and then we change the world. (I would argue that we hop quickly to the last step, both as babies and as developers.) To learn how to change a complex system is to change it, see what happens, change it again.
We use type systems and property tests to reason about what can’t happen. Example tests and monitoring reassure us what happens in anticipated circumstances. We get to deduce what really does happen from observability and logs.
If we accept that we are part of this complex system that includes our code, perhaps we can find buoyancy: we can sail instead of drown.
Complexity is not anarchy; when it gels, a complex system is a higher form of order. It is an order that operates not in linear deductions, but in circles and spirals. These circles operate both within the system and between the system and its environment.
Feathers and I both spoke about the symbiosis of a development team with its code and its tools. I call it a symmathesy. We learn from our code, from the clues it leaves us in data and logs; and our code learns from us, as we change it. Both these forms of communication happen only through other software: observability tools to see what is happening in the software, and delivery tools to change what will happen. Once we view the system at this level, we can think about growing our whole team: people, running software, tools for visibility and control.
Rishabh Singh, Miltos Allamanis, and Eran Yahav showed machine-learning backed tooling that makes programs that offer useful suggestions to humans who are busy instructing the computer. The spiral goes higher.
Kent Beck said that nothing has higher leverage than making a programming system while using those same tools to build a system. His talk suggested that we: (1) make very small changes in our local system; (2) let those changes propagate outwards gradually; and (3) reflect on what happened, together. We learn from the system we are changing, and from each other.
McLuhan’s Law: We shape our tools, and then our tools shape us.
Our tools don’t shape our behavior violently and inflexibly, the way rules and punishment do. They shape us by changing the probability of each behavior. They change what is easy. This is part of my mission at Atomist: enable more customization of our own programming system, and more communication between our tools and the people in the symmathesy.
As developers, we are uniquely able to shape our own world and therefore ourselves by changing our tools. Meanwhile, other people are gaining some of this leverage, too.
I believe there will be a day when no professional says “I can’t code” — only “coding is not my specialty.” Everyone will write small programs, what Ben Scofield calls idiomatic software, what I call personal automation. These programs will remain entwined with their author/users; we won’t pretend that the source code has value outside of this human context. (Nathan Herald had a good story about this, about a team that tried to keep using a tool after the not-professional-developer who wrote it left.)
This is a problem in development teams, when turnover is high. “Everyone who touches it is reflected in the code.” (who said that? Rajeev maybe?) I don’t have a solution for this.
The path forward includes more collaboration between humans and computers, and between computers and each other, guided by humans. It includes building solid steps on familiar ground, swimming lessons for exploration, and teamwork in the whole sociotechnical system so that we can catch the winds of complexity and make them serve us.