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Crash in Iraq; Grove’s “shift left”

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Sometimes when I tell people I’ve written a book about how difficult it is to make software well, I get a blank stare, as if to say, “What could be further from mattering to me?” And I repeat my now well-rehearsed remarks about the way our lives increasingly move through a vast web of programming products — way beyond what we encounter when we’re online. Sometimes the stares even resolve into interest.

So when I read items like this in the news I’m reminded of why these questions still matter. This is from a longer New York Times piece on how the U.S. seems to have lost track of hundreds of millions of dollars worth of materiel in Iraq:

Mr. Bowen found that the American military was not able to say how many Iraqi logistics personnel it had trained — in this case because, the military told the inspector general, a computer network crash erased records. Those problems have occurred even though the United States has spent $133 million on the weapons program and $666 million on Iraqi logistics capabilities.

What — no backup? No paper records? How about, you know, asking the people whose job it was to train those Iraqi logistics personnel? Now it could be that this is a “dog ate my homework” sort of excuse, and that in fact the fruits of $666 million did not disappear in a network crash but rather into various people’s pockets, on the U.S. or the Iraqi side. But even at face value, that’s a pretty expensive crash.

(Peter Neumann’s Risks Digest tracks endless amounts of stuff like this on a regular basis.)

It’s hard to analyze this particular disaster without more detail. But military software tends to be big, complex, sometimes bloated. I thought of that, reading today’s fascinating Journal column by Lee Gomes about Intel’s Andy Grove and his latest cause — improving the health care system and its record-keeping. Grove is advocating a simple approach — plain text.

To explain “Shift left,” Mr. Grove describes the bottom axis of a scale in which products and services grow more full-featured, complicated and expensive as you move to the right. To “Shift left” on this scale is to, in effect, “Keep it simple, stupid.”

…Rather than designing an elaborate and technically sophisticated medical-database system, something practically every tech company is now trying to do, Mr. Grove suggests the exact opposite. Shift left; keep the record of a patient’s visit in, for example, a generic but Web-accessible word-processing file.

Just like the early personal computer, it will be far from ideal, but it will be a start, and it can get better over time. The alternative, he says, is to wait endlessly for a perfect technology.

That last sentence should be etched onto the monitors of CTOs and development managers around the globe.

Steven Levy talks about his iPod book

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Steven Levy came to Sylvia Paull‘s Berkeley CyberSalon at the Hillside Club tonight to talk about the iPod and his new book, The Perfect Thing: How the iPod Shuffles Commerce, Culture, and Coolness. I haven’t read the book yet (Farhad Manjoo has, and his Salon review is a wonderful meditation on what, both good and bad, the iPod is doing to the experience of listening to music). There’s a nice excerpt online in Wired; Levy’s also got a blog on the topic.

Levy started off by largely disavowing his superlative title. Of course, he admitted, the iPod is far from perfect, from its too-easily-scuffable skin to its too-confining conception of digital rights management. He said the device represents more of a “perfect storm,” a perfect summation of all the issues that arise when a medium goes digital.

I have to say I didn’t find this too persuasive (maybe he makes a better case in the book!); it might be better just to say, “Book titles are chosen to get your attention,” and move on. Because everything else Levy has to say about the iPod is fascinating, amusing and important.

Levy sees the iPod’s shuffle mode as the key to its meaning — so much so that he got playful with the book, writing each chapter as a discrete unit so the whole book could be put on shuffle mode. There are four different sequencings of The Perfect Thing out there; no telling which one you’ll get. (Once upon a time, in my previous life as an arts critic, I did something similar in channeling the spirit of John Cage for a review of a celebration of his music.)

He asked the Hillside Club crowd how many listened to their iPod with shuffle on; I’d say about half the audience raised their hands. I wasn’t one — though I find shuffle an amusing novelty, mostly I love digital music for the control it offers me, the chance to be my own DJ, so why would I want to go random? After listening to Levy, I think I’ll try it more; he made a good case for seeing what interesting juxtapositions turn up between the music you’ve chosen and the moment you’re experiencing.

I asked Levy whether the pro-shuffle and anti-shuffle tribes divide by age, hypothesizing that maybe a forty-something like me is still rebelling against growing up listening to bad radio, whereas a younger person who grew up with digital music might be craving more serendipity. But Levy said he hasn’t noticed an age skew between pro- and anti-shuffle-ites (he’s a bit older than me and is a shuffle-ite himself). He guessed that it’s more like the division between people who have the patience to organize their lives around PIM (personal information management) software and those who can’t be bothered. That makes sense — the PIM devotees (I’ve long been one) would also have the patience to program their own listening.

Levy also talked about the strange experience people have when they find that their ostensibly random shuffle mode seems to play favorites; for him, Steely Dan just kept on showing up. A column he wrote on this topic evoked a torrent of amusing email, some of which he read. Deeper investigation among mathematicians led him to conclude that Apple wasn’t lying when it said that shuffle really is random — and that the experience people had of shuffle “favorites” is actually a statistical phenomenon known as “clustering” that turns up in nearly any random distribution.

Lee Felsenstein asked Levy about what the iPod’s triumph has done to narrow public space, now that so many of us are walking around with our own private soundtracks. Levy’s answer made sense for a New Yorker: “When I’m on the subway, I don’t really intend to do much social networking.” But what about outside of dense urban conglomerations (the kinds of places Steven Johnson celebrates in The Ghost Map)? Do we need more alienation in the cookie-cutter exurban communities where human connections get more and more tenuous? The “don’t bug me” message is useful on mean streets; but out in the vast wasteland, iPod-induced solitude may be worth worrying about.
[tags]steven levy, ipod, shuffle[/tags]

Random morning notes

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I’m in Seattle today on business. So as you would imagine the local paper here pays special attention to, among other topics, all things Microsoft.

But I was struck by the near-Kremlinological level of focus in a front-page item in the Seattle Times business section that reported on the failure of Microsoft to send Windows Vista off to manufacturing according to schedule — or, wait a minute, it’s not really a schedule, it’s just that a Times reporter saw a sign in a building window a week ago that said the new operating system would be off to manufacturing in a week. But now it seems that was wrong.

This kind of Vatican-smoke-signals reading felt more like trade-journal stuff or material from an obsessive blogger. In fact it’s both; the real story — in more detail and with a far more appropriately light tone — comes from veteran Microsoft watcher Mary Jo Foley’s blog.

Meanwile, Microsoft has released IE7. Walt Mossberg points out that mostly it’s about catching IE users up with features that Firefox has always had. IE users get tabs! This is a good thing, don’t get me wrong — it’s just so long in coming that it feels like it barely matters. Opera gave me tabs so long ago I can’t even remember life without them.

Finally: Front page of the Journal today features reporter Pui-Wing Tam’s personal account of her year-long surveillance by the leak-crazed Hewlett-Packard investigators. At the bottom of the front page: an H-P ad. (This is either the first or one of the first times the Journal has placed advertising on its front page.) Is this a plain old “whoops”? A sign of how airtight the Journal keeps the seal between church and state? Or an act of corporate contrition (“We spied on you, we’re sorry, here’s some business”)? Who knows? It’s certainly eyebrow-raising.
[tags]microsoft, vista, ie7, hewlett-packard[/tags]

Ballmer explains Windows delays — or, how Vista is like Iraq

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Steve Ballmer was interviewed in Saturday’s Times. Noted:

Q. What was the lesson learned in Windows Vista? After all, it wasn’t supposed to ship more than five years after Windows XP.

A. No. No, it wasn’t. We tried to re-engineer every piece of Windows in one big bang. That was the original post-Windows XP design philosophy. And it wasn’t misshapen. It wasn’t executed, but it wasn’t misshapen. We said, let’s try to give them a new file system and a new presentation system and a new user interface all at the same time. It’s not like we had them and were just trying to integrate them. We were trying to develop and integrate at the same time. And that was beyond the state of the art.

This is at once an unusually candid and an oddly defensive statement.

Ballmer is saying that, in 2001-2, as Microsoft pondered the next phase of Windows’ evolution post-XP, the company deliberately chose to “re-engineer every piece of Windows in one big bang.” It’s a telling choice of phrase. In the software development world, “big bang” (typically used in “big bang integration”) is used to describe a bet-it-all strategy that involves building lots of parts of a system separately and waiting until the end to hook them up and hope they play nicely together.

So Ballmer is essentially admitting that the “design philosophy” of the new Windows was founded on a risky, widely discredited approach. Then he turns around and says that it wasn’t “misshapen” — twice.

Misshapen? Is this a new buzzword I’ve somehow missed? Did the Times reporters mistranscribe “mistaken”? What is Ballmer talking about?

Then he says, “It wasn’t executed.” Note the passive voice, correct for it: “We didn’t execute it.” Which means, “We didn’t do it.” That’s, you know, obvious, I’d think.

Then Ballmer closes the explanation by declaring that the problem wasn’t one of integration; it was even worse than that — it was that Microsoft, the largest and most successful software company in the world, set out to simultaneously “develop and integrate” new versions of all the core functions of its central product. Now, in 2006, the company understands that this was “beyond the state of the art.” But back in 2001-2, they didn’t see that.

This is a fascinating rationalization. I’m loathe to draw too facile a comparison between the tribulations of a technology company and the drama of global conflict. But here, I think, there’s a clear and illuminating parallel between Microsoft’s hubris in this era and the Bush administration’s overreaching in Iraq — two phenomena that overlap almost precisely on the historical timeline.

And no, of course I don’t mean to suggest that there is any moral equivalence, or that the sad saga of a software product’s delay is in any way an event of equal import to the tragedy of an unnecessary war of choice resulting in hundreds of thousands of deaths. But there are some similarities, too, to wit:

Bush’s team — chests puffed large from its success in invading Afghanistan post-9/11 — ignored conventional wisdom and disregarded expert intelligence and invaded Iraq, only to discover that the effort to control and transform that country was beyond its means.

Gates’ team — surveying a decimated post-dotcom industry landscape as the “sole superpower” of technology — simiarly ignored conventional wisdom and disregarded expert knowledge. Incremental development? Continuous integration? They are for mere mortals. Microsoft, with its mountain of cash and its armies of developers, could bring brute force to bear on the most intractable of large-systems development problems. The company would rip out the guts of all of Windows’ key subsystems and renovate them at the same time — because it was invincible!

The result was predictable. Now a more humbled Microsoft is limping to the finish line with a version of Windows that — whether users find it reat or so-so or terrible — will always be overshadowed by the ambitious claims once made for it. In the context of that falling off, Ballmer’s statement is positively bizarre.
[tags]microsoft, steve ballmer, windows, vista[/tags]

Microsoft sniffed at “acquiring YouTube’s technology”

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This little tidbit from the Journal’s day-one story on the Google/YouTube deal caught my eye:

A Microsoft spokeswoman said the company “evaluated acquiring this type of technology several months ago” but decided to build its own service, a test version of which opened recently.

It may be foolish to read too much into an unnamed spokesperson’s boilerplate wording, but it is unwittingly illuminating.

YouTube’s “technology” is smart: the company made a good bet on making posting videos really easy — it did for Web video what AOL did a decade ago to help people get online. But the technology itself is something that Google, or Microsoft, could duplicate for a tiny fraction of YouTube’s price tag.

Google traded its stock not for YouTube’s technology but for its massive and growing community of users. That Microsoft would describe the deal as “acquiring technology” is an indication that it’s still thinking like a packaged-software-goods company.
[tags]google, youtube, microsoft[/tags]

Google and YouTube — just add fizz?

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I don’t think the Google acquisition of YouTube is in itself an indication of dotcom-bubble-style thinking, as much of the mainstream coverage must inevitably suggest. YouTube is unprofitable — it hasn’t had much revenue to speak of at all till recently, from what I can tell. But it’s a great site and service and has a vast audience. It is, in short, much like Google was for the several years before Google stumbled on the brilliant revenue model that has propelled it to giddy peaks of valuation. Google wants to lead the Net video field; YouTube needs deep pockets to fund its bandwidth bills and build out the infrastructure to support its growth, and corporate help steering through the intellectual-property maze its business represents. It also needs a brain trust that has experience figuring out how to make money from a service with millions of users but no business model. That’s a good match.

$1.65 billion is a lot of money, but the tut-tutting chatterboxes are forgetting that, er, this isn’t cash changing hands, it’s stock. At Google’s current valuation this amount represents very roughly one percent of the company. One of the chief reasons companies like Google go public in the first place — aside from rewarding early investors and management — is so it can leverage market enthusiasm for these sorts of acquisitions. Google’s leaders know — or they ought to know — that its stock won’t stay over $400 forever. They’re doing the smart thing, playing their cards while their deck’s value is high.

No, neither Google nor YouTube is engaging in bubble-think — but watch for the onset of that condition in coming days and weeks, as the GoogTube deal gets turned into a valuation yardstick by hungry also-rans and competitors. “Let’s see, YouTube had X users and sold for $1.6 billion — therefore my company with 1/20th X users is worth at least $80 million!” That sort of talk is cheap. It was already beginning to turn up on the cover of Business Week, even before this deal. If and when people start investing on the basis of such logic, we’ll know that the awful era of TheGlobe.com has truly been reborn.
[tags]google, youtube, deals, bubble[/tags]

Cool projects: MadLiberals, JPG

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  • If, like me, you spent some significant portion of your childhood in the back of a car dreaming up parts of speech to complete Mad Libs, you may find this site, and the book it’s based on, irresistible. Even if you didn’t, it’s worth a look. MadLiberals takes the classic fill-in-the-blanks game and updates it for the Bush era. The Web site offers a few interactive “MadLiberator” pages; an old-fashioned book is also available.

    (Full disclosure: My agent, Stuart Krichevsky, also served as the agent for MadLiberals, and he wants people to know that a substantial chunk of the proceeds will go straight to various charities and nonprofits.) And here, for the heck of it, are some more, more traditional, amusing Mad Libs.

  • Derek Powazek and Heather Champ have been publishing a cool little photo magazine called JPG for some time. Now they’ve expanded the project into a Web community intended to feed the magazine with contributions. (More on their blog.) Derek is a veteran Web designer and instigator of Web communities; Heather created the Mirror Project way back when. So it’s no surprise they’ve put a lot of thought and care into their project. The photos are pretty great, too.

Thoughts on a Thinkpad migration

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My old laptop, a trusty Thinkpad X30, began falling apart recently — literally, the plastic case developed cracks in the corners and pieces started to fall off. I don’t blame IBM: This machine got a lot of use during the years when I was working on my book — even fell off the table once or twice. It did good service. But I’m not going to trust my work to a computer that is shedding its protective casing like space shuttle tiles. So it was time to buy a new laptop.

I’ve been using ultracompact Thinkpads since 1998 or so and the days of the model 560. These computers have never failed me — never had a hard drive crash or other awful malfunction — despite years of abuse. (Mac folks, I love your operating system, but I don’t love its laptop hardware, so until there’s a Mac laptop that’s as lightweight and reliable as a Thinkpad, and that has a trackpoint-style pointer, it’s just not going to happen for me. Sorry.)

In ordering a new Thinkpad X60s, I wondered whether anything would have changed under the new Lenovo management. The good news, I’m happy to say, is that this Thinkpad continues to feel solid and behave well. The keyboard is if anything a little better than the X30’s (except I absolutely abhor the insertion of the “Windows” key and that funny other key on the right between “alt” and “ctrl” — what does it do, simulate the right-click? who needs it? why crowd the other keys? my fingers liked “alt” and “ctrl” right where they were, thank you!). It’s fascinating to put the new screen next to the old laptop’s LCD and see how 3-4 years of constant use have dimmed the display — something one doesn’t realize without this direct side-by-side comparison.

Thumbs down to Lenovo only for not offering a simple port replicator for the X60s — they make you spring for the fancier dock. Other than that, I’m pretty happy. And no, there was no way I’d wait to buy a new computer in order to graduate to Windows Vista. My philosophy is, never buy a 1.0 product. These ultracompact Thinkpads are so good because IBM has years of experience making them. Similarly, Windows XP (once it’s been upgraded and patched ad nauseam) has had most of its flaws beaten out of it in the years since its debut. Anyone who goes with Vista at launch has to be ready for a boatload of snags and bugs.

One eye-opening sidelight on globalization: the Lenovo web site sent me a UPS tracking number once my order shipped. When I plugged it in at UPS, I could follow my package’s progress all the way from Shanghai to the US. Not much more than a decade ago we were arguing about whether, you know, it was OK for advanced US computer technology to be made available to China. Now, we track the packages of advanced US-designed, China-manufactured computer technology from China’s ports to our doorsteps.

Anytime you move from computer to computer there is the hassle of migrating data (not too bad in the era of voluminous external drives — and migrating that way automatically leaves you with a convenient backup copy). The bigger hassle these days is installing your apps — assuming you haven’t gone completely over to the web-based model, which I certainly haven’t. Thankfully, Ecco Pro still installs nicely, from disk or download. Some of my other stalwart apps have gone free (like Opera) or free/ad-supported/paid (like Eudora), so it’s just a matter of download time plus digging up an old key. (If you have an OS problem, though, you have to deal with the horror of Microsoft activation — today Dave Winer reports one egregious example.)

But with the software installation comes the patching, and that is something of a nightmare. In the case of Windows XP, I dutifully installed a mountain of security patches, but declined the installation of the “Windows Malicious Software Removal Tool” (I’ve protected myself extremely well from malicious software without it). Once I turned down the current month’s edition of this tool, the auto-update wanted to install each previous monthly version, going back to its inception a couple of years ago. There was no way to defeat this that I could figure out. other than laboriously saying “no thanks” to AutoUpdate each time it turned the calendar back a month.

Then there was the Adobe Acrobat Reader. Once installed, it decided there were three critical patches I needed. But each one demanded that I install it, then reboot, separately. WTF? Three reboots for some lousy updates to a piece of software for reading a proprietary document format that I only use when people make me?

Adobe is full of smart engineers. Can’t they roll these things up, or at least set them up so the reboot only triggers once, after all the downloaded updates have installed? And gee, wouldn’t it be nice if they actually told us what these updates did, so we could decide for ourselves whether they actually matter?

Once again, we are asked to do things for the convenience of our software tools. The ostensible servant calls the shots.
[tags]thinkpad, laptops, software hassles, globalization[/tags]

Standing behind your words

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A fascinating thread runs through a pair of this week’s scandals.

First we have two of the top names in Silicon Valley’s old-boy network at odds over some quite possibly illegal boardroom shenanigans at one of its most hallowed companies. In an effort to plug media leaks they were sure emanated from a board member, Hewlett-Packard’s chairman, Patricia Dunn, hired a private consulting firm that apparently hired someone else who obtained private phone records of board members via, not to mince words, fraudulent means.

Those means now bear the delightfully euphemistic label “pretexting,” which sounds like something harmless, out of high school debating. But what we’re really talking about is calling up institutions like phone companies and claiming to be the person whose records you’re trying to obtain. Old-fashioned black-hat hackers used to call this “social engineering.” I’m not a lawyer, and others will determine the precise legality or lack thereof of what went down at H-P; but whatever you call it, it’s deceitful and dishonorable, and that is plainly why Silicon Valley grandee Tom Perkins, whose name bedecks the industry’s most august venture-capital firm, quit the H-P board in a huff. Perkins is now at odds with Valley uber-lawyer Larry Sonsini, who represents H-P’s board and who has been saying that the company did nothing illegal. (Leading technology journalists were also apparently targeted by the H-P-sponsored “pretexting.”)

Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, the New Republic, a little magazine with a venerable history, has suspended one of its critics, Lee Siegel. Siegel was caught posting anonymously on his own blog, under the name “sprezzatura,” singing hosannas to his own genius and lashing out at his critics.

It’s self-evident that there’s something loathsome about any writer who would don a virtual ski-mask in order to post pompous paeans to his own work along the lines of “Siegel is brave, brilliant, and wittier than Stewart will ever be” — and then, when confronted by users who suspect the truth, deny it with “I’m not Lee Siegel, you imbecile. If you knew who I was you and your n + 1 buddies would crap in your pants.” Wit! Intelligence! Grace!

But how, asks Slate’s Jack Shafer, is what Siegel did any different from what legions of blog-commenters do every day in posting anonymous comments? Shafer is too locked into Slate’s contrarian-for-contrarianhood’s-sake stance (a journalistic mode pioneered by Slate founder Michael Kinsley when he ran the New Republic years ago) to grasp the simple and obvious difference: As the author of the blog, Siegel writes from a position of privilege. He can defend his own work from the stage mike without concocting a fake claque to cheer himself. By inventing “sprezzatura” he is not only deceiving his readership, he’s casting doubt on anything anyone has ever posted in favor of his work elsewhere on the Web. Now anytime you read anything nice posted on a blog about Siegel’s work, you’re going to be wondering, is this a real comment? Or is this Siegel playing games?

Anonymity is not a simple good — it’s a complex phenomenon that cuts positively or negatively depending on the power equation in play. When anonymity allows an insider to blow a whistle on corruption, or a dissident in a repressive regime to communicate about atrocities, it is plainly good. When anonymity allows people in positions of power to shrug off responsibility for their words, it’s problematic at least, and often harmful.

Siegel’s “sprezzatura” impersonation is a relatively low-stakes matter; with its exposure the only real harm is to the writer’s own reputation and to his publication’s dignity. But the common practice among denizens of the Bush White House of defending their actions and ambushing their opponents via anonymous, disownable statements shares in Siegel’s dishonor. They’re in power. They control the dialogue. There’s no excuse for them not to stand behind their words — and their record of unwillingness to put their names behind their statements has now fully eroded their credibility.

Back at the H-P boardroom, we have a sort of double-deniability maneuver: a primary act of impersonation on the part of investigators seeking to unmask an anonymous boardroom leaker, and then a secondary act of anonymous distancing on the part of the board and its chairman, who claim they didn’t know what their henchmen were up to. Henry II invented this “plausible deniability” gambit 900 years ago when he wanted to off Thomas Becket; it’s no more credible today.

According to CNET, before he quit the H-P board Perkins suggested that the chairman “just ask the board members if they had leaked information, rather than launch a full-blown investigation, and ask for a private apology.” Good plan. Too bad even this statement is attributed to an anonymous source.

To be fair, Perkins and his adversaries are all now tightly bound in legal webs as to what they can and can’t say. Nonetheless, we’re left with the spectacle of a group of rich, powerful people behaving appallingly. When a corporate board reaches a point as far gone as this, it’s time for everyone to resign. And I don’t mind being quoted on that — by name.
[tags]Hewlett-Packard, anonymous sources, lee siegel[/tags]

Links: Games, open systems, premature Democratic obituary

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  • Greg Costikyan’s Manifesto Games is now live. It’s offering a catalogue of independently produced and distributed downloadable computer games, curated by smart people who clearly love playing them and writing about them and sharing their pleasure.
  • James Boyle writes in the Financial Times that human beings seem to be inherently biased against open systems: “We still do not intuitively grasp the kind of property that cannot be exhausted by overuse (think of a piece of software) and that can become more valuable to us the more it is used by others (think of a communications standard).”
  • Amusing to stumble on a bit of dated GOP triumphalism — “The Democratic Party is Toast,” Grover Norquist in the Washington Monthly, Sept. 04: “Without effective control of the government, the Democratic Party is like a fish out of water…” Only the fish seems to have survived — even evolved a bit — and in November, it’s increasingly looking like a lot of Republicans in Congress will be left gill-less and gasping.

[tags]gaming, open source, democratic party[/tags]