On architecture, urban planning and software construction
Despite having the term science in its name, it is not always clear what kind of discipline computer science actually is. Research on programming is sometimes like science, sometimes like mathematics, sometimes like engineering, sometimes like design and sometimes like art. It also has a long tradition of importing ideas from a wide range of other disciplines.
In this article, I will look at ideas from architecture and urban planning. Architecture has already been an inspiration for design patterns, although some would say that we did quite poor job and imported a trivialized (and not very useful) version of the idea. However, there are many other interesting ideas in architecture and urban planning worth exploring.
To explain why learning from architecture and urban planning is a good idea, I will first discuss similarities between problems solved by architects or urban planners and programmers. I will then look at a number of concrete ideas that we can learn, mostly taking inspiration from four books that I've read recently. There are two general areas:
First, writing about architecture and urban planning often uses interesting methodologies that research on programming could adopt to gain new insights into systems, programming and its problems.
Second, there are a number of more concrete ideas in architecture and urban planning that might directly apply to software. For example, can programmers learn how to deal with complexity of software by looking at how urban planners deal with the complexity of cities? Or, can we learn about software maintenance by looking at how buildings evolve in time?
The nature of problems that programmers face are often more similar to the problems that architects and urban planners have to deal with than, say, the problems that scientists, engineers or mathematicians need to solve. We might not want to go all the way and completely rebuild how we do programming to mirror architecture and urban planning, but treating the ideas from those disciplines as equal to those from science or engineering will make programming richer and more productive discipline.
1. Why software is like buildings and cities
Many people have linked programming with writing, gardening or even planning a dinner party. Whether we can learn something useful from making those analogies crucially depends on whether those activities actually have any structural similarities with programming. Before talking about what we can learn from buildings and cities, I will discuss some of the structural similarities to convince you that they are, in fact, good analogies!
1.1 Problems of organized complexity
My first resource for this article is a 1961 book The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs. The book focuses on problems in urban planning and points out numerous flaws in the 1950s urban planning ideas that were behind (mostly failed) housing projects and poorly planned parks that contributed to the rise of criminality in cities like New York. Jacobs talks about how neighbourhoods work and why some of them work better than others.
However, the point that I want to discuss first is from the last chapter, which discusses "what kind of a problem city is". Jacobs refers to an essay on science and complexity by Warren Weaver, which lists three stages of development in the history of scientific thought:
Problems of simplicity. Science first learned how to solve problems involving small number of variables, for example, how to analytically and experimentally analyse how gas pressure depends on the volume of the gas.
Problems of unorganized complexity. The second kind of problems that science tackled are problems that involved huge number of variables (say, millions of solid balls rather than just two solid balls), but where the behaviour is sufficiently random. We might not be able to give exact answers, but we can get useful insights using statistics and probability theory.
Problems of organized complexity. The most challenging problems are complex, but at the same time, involve sophisticated organization that is essential and cannot be easily abstracted away through statistics. For example, how exactly is genetic code reflected in the characteristics of an organism?
As you can guess, urban planning is a problem of organized complexity. They involve many different problems, interconnected through a huge number of variables. The processes involved in those problems have rich structure that cannot be usefully summarized using statistics. For example, how a park is used depends on how it is designed, but also on who lives around and what businesses exist in the neighbourhood, which, in turn, depend on what is the size of blocks and age of buildings in the surroundings. To learn anything useful about a park, you have to study all those aspects in their full complexity. Whether a park works depends on a highly sophisticated network of factors.
Software systems are also problems of organized complexity. Any large software system involves a huge number of variables and interconnected processes that are linked in subtle ways and often influence each other. Analysing software systems using simplified models often fails, because the model has to ignore some aspects and, often, ends up ignoring aspects that are actually important.
A nice argument for the irreducible complexity of software systems was written by David Parnas in Software Aspects of Strategic Defence Systems. Parnas describes three kinds of systems with increasing levels of complexity:
Analog systems. Analog systems are modelled as continuous functions. Those can be analysed using well-understood mathematical tools. To show that a system is reliable, you just need to show that the values stay within operating range.
Repetitive digital systems. Digital systems are not continuous. Analysing those is harder and does not scale well with increasing number of states. However, if we have a large number of repeated components (like in a CPU), then the analysis is still doable.
Non-repetitive digital systems. Software systems are not continuous and also do not have repetitive structure and, consequently, have orders of magnitude more states. This is a fundamental difficulty that makes building reliable software systems hard.
The kind of complexity in the case of software is not exactly the same as the kind of complexity in the case of urban planning and life sciences, but there are notable similarities. In the easy case (problems of simplicity and analog systems), we can fully analyse the system. In the second case (unorganized complexity and repetitive digital systems), we can reduce the full complexity either by using statistical methods or by exploiting the repetition. In the last case (organized complexity and non-repetitive digital systems), the complexity of the problem cannot be reduced - we need to consider a large number of interacting processes or components. At the same time, all of them are equally important and play an important role in some aspect of the system. As Jane Jacobs puts it, the large number of interrelated variables form an organic whole.
Software engineers and researchers working on programming tools have done a fair amount of work towards being able to analyse complex systems with large number of states, mostly by building tools that scale better and can handle more states. However, the number of states grows faster than the size of the system and so our tools still hit their limits very easily. Urban planners never attempted to understand every little detail about how cities work, yet, they have learned valuable knowledge about cities. I will sketch some ideas for how we can learn from urban planners in Section 3.3.
1.2 Structures obtained by gradual development
To discuss the second structural similarity between buildings and software, I will refer to Rebecca Slayton's history of anti-ballistic missile defence from Arguments that Count and Stewart Brand's interview with Christopher Alexander from his book How Buildings Learn.
Alexander is inspired by how design occurs in the natural world. "Things that are good have a certain kind of structure," he told me. "You can't get that structure except dynamically. Period. In nature you've got continuous very-small-feedback-loop adaptation going on, which is why things get to be harmonious. That's why they have the qualities that we value. If it wasn't for the time dimension, it wouldn't happen."
Brand argues that many great buildings achieved their greatness by gradual stepwise evolution over time. New buildings need to be designed with the expectation that they will evolve, because they usually outlive their initial use. Even if a building does not change its use (e.g. it remains the same university department), the needs of its users will change and the building will need to adapt. This should be done, for example, by making sure that changing the space layout in the building is possible without changing the structure.
A similar line of thought can be found in the debate about building an anti-ballistic missile software that would automatically track and destroy Soviet missiles. In the debate, a number of computer scientists pointed out that such system cannot be reliably built for fundamental software engineering reasons. Slayton quotes Weizenbaum's letter saying that "large computing systems are products of evolutionary development" and that large computer systems "only became reliable through a process of slow testing and adaptation to an operational environment". In the case of anti-ballistic missile software, the problem is that the change rate in the environment is faster than the rate at which the software can evolve (it is cheaper to build a new, more effective, offensive weapon than a defence against it).
Brand argues that we should think about buildings not just in spatial dimensions, but also in the time dimension. The same is the case for software. In some way, development methodologies that treat development as gradual process already do this (and I'm not the first person to link Brand's book to methodologies like Extreme Programming), but I think we can go further. First, I suggest that computer scientists should spend more time studying how software learns (Section 2.2). Second, I think there are lessons about adaptability of software that we can learn from the adaptability of cities and buildings (Section 3.1).
1.3 Elegant theories that do not work
My last reason for looking at work in architecture and urban planning is that the two disciplines were heavily influenced by theories that are elegant, but do not actually work in practice. Stewart Brand's claim that architects are incapable of producing pleasant spaces, except by accident from How Buildings Learn is perhaps too extreme, but I imagine some people may feel very similarly about the software discipline. Just like some work on programming, theories of architecture and urban planning often leave human aspects out of the picture. Consequently, the theories are not just slightly imprecise, but completely wrong and actively harmful. Interestingly, a few urban planners and architects reflect critically on this and that's where programming researchers can learn.
Form and context in software and architecture
In Notes on the Synthesis of Form, Christopher Alexander points out that design always speaks of form and its context. A good design is not just a property of the form, but it is a matter of fit between the form and the context. The reason why we cannot evaluate an isolated form is not because we are unable to precisely describe the form itself, but because we are unable to precisely describe the context with which it will interact:
[T]he opportunity to evaluate the form (...) depends on the fact that we can give a precise mathematical description of the context. In general, unfortunately, we cannot give an adequate description of the context we are dealing with. There is as yet no theory (...) capable of expressing a unitary description of the varied phenomena we encounter in the urban context (...).
Exactly the same limitations exist in the world of programming. No matter how precisely we can talk about programs, we also need to exactly understand the environment with which they interact. This is the hard part. As Frederick P. Brooks writes in his well known essay No Silver Bullet:
Much of the complexity [software engineer] must master is arbitrary complexity, forced without rhyme or reason by the many human institutions and systems to which his interfaces must confirm.
Radiant garden city beautiful
The book The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs, which I mentioned already, is a critique of urban planning theories that are appealing but completely wrong. This includes Le Corbusier's Radiant City (replacing streets with towers in a park), British Garden City movement (separating functions in a city and building suburb-like residential areas) and City Beautiful movement (introducing beautification and monumental grandeur in cities).
All of the theories criticised by Jacobs are based on simple and convincing principles that are supported by reasonable arguments. A city with a centre surrounded by residential areas with open spaces and parks should be a way of combining benefits of countryside and city environments. However, it turns out that this idea often does not work for various complex reasons. One point made by Jacobs is that public spaces only work if they combine different functions so that people have reasons for passing through the space throughout the day, but this requires diverse neighbourhoods that combine residential spaces with shops, restaurants, cultural venues and offices.
In software engineering and programming research, we also often come up with simple and convincing principles supported by reasonable arguments. To poke at my own community: if we want to make sure that programming languages have well-defined behaviour, it seems reasonable to define a small formal model that captures the essential properties of the language and formally study its properties. Except that it turns out that the non-essential properties are often equally important and a lot of usability of programming languages comes from things that we do not normally even think about as parts of the language such as package management or tooling.
Can the criticism of urban planning theories, like the one by Jane Jacobs, teach us something about our own programming theories and software engineering principles? I will discuss some concrete ideas in Section 2.1.
The separation of design from making
There is one area where the practice of building software already underwent a change that is similar to a change that has not quite happened in architecture yet and that some critics have been calling for. Stewart Brand quotes Christopher Alexander who, unlike many other architects, makes on-site adjustments to his buildings:
There is real misunderstanding about whether buildings are something dynamic or something static. (...) Anything different from the idea that you make a set of drawings and someone else builds the thing is incredibly threatening. People get just absolutely freaked out.
Alexander also notes that this is likely for contractual reasons. If you make on-site adjustments, then those will inevitably change the final price. To a person familiar with software engineering, these comments read as the motivation behind Agile software development methodologies. I think most people in our industry have, by now, realised that a typical software system is something dynamic and that we need to make "on-site" adjustments while building it. Of course, various concrete practices arising from Agile are now also being treated as simple overarching theories that will solve all our problems, just like the urban planning theories discussed in the previous section.
In any case, it seems that similar problems exist in architecture and software development, which suggests that looking at architecture for inspiration about programming is worthwhile.
2. Learning from urban planning and architecture methodologies
As mentioned earlier, I think the software world can learn from architecture and urban planning in two ways. We can look at concrete ideas about buildings and cities or we can look at methodologies that critics of architecture and urban planning use in their work. In this section, I'll focus on the latter.
Perhaps the first thing that we should learn is to spend more time critically reflecting on how our methods work, when they do not work and why. In academic programming research, Onward! Essays and The Art, Science, and Engineering of Programming journal publish some reflections on how we work, but I don't know of any systematic, longer critique akin to Jane Jacob's The Death and Life of Great American Cities. Looking at the critiques of architecture and urban planning, I can think of three ways of reflecting on software and programming that would give us invaluable knowledge and, possibly, inspire new directions for future work.
2.1 What cities and buildings work in spite of theory
The methodology that Jane Jacobs uses to criticize urban planning theories could be equally applied to criticize programming theories. It is obvious that any theory makes simplifications and does not always precisely work in its purest form, but are there cases where theories are blatantly wrong? Jane Jacobs does a great job at documenting such cases in the urban planning context. She looks at concrete city districts that function well in spite of urban planning theories that present theoretical arguments for why those districts must be unpleasant places to live.
Theories inspired by the Radiant City and Garden City ideas support separation of functions in a city and argue for large parks. Yet, two of Jacobs' examples of healthy districts, Greenwich Village in New York and North End of Boston (in 1950s) have none of that. They rely on active "sidewalk life" which is made possible thanks to the diverse use of buildings in the district. Those districts are safe, because the mixed use guarantees that local people are always passing the area, implicitly keeping an eye on what is going on. They "unslum", because they are still attractive places to live for those members of the community who get better jobs and start earning more money. In other words, there are many complex intricate social processes that are nothing like what the urban planning theories of 1950s consider a good model for a city.
It is curious to observe how the authors in this field, who in the formal aspects of their work require painstaking demonstration and proof, in the informal aspects are satisfied with subjective claims that have not the slightest support, neither in argument nor in verifiable evidence. Surely common sense will indicate that such a manner is scientifically unacceptable.
One interesting example that documents something along those lines is the discussion about MIDI devices in a Salon des Refusés paper Tracing a Paradigm for Externalization: Avatars and the GPII Nexus by Colin Clark and Antranig Basman, which discusses a system which succeeded precisely because it did not follow the principle of information hiding.
2.2 Learning about how software evolves
Another important aspect of the methodology used both by Jane Jacobs and Stewart Brand is that they look at cities and buildings over a long period of time. Buildings and cities will be around for decades and centuries and we need to consider them with respect to the time dimension. The same is the case for software systems. Many software systems will be around for decades and will need to adapt to new circumstances. Computer scientists are aware of the time dimension and the open/closed principle, introduced by Bertrand Meyer in Object-Oriented Software Construction, is one theoretical answer to those challenges. However, looking at how buildings and cities evolve would give us new methods and ideas for understanding how software evolves.
How buildings evolve
Christopher Alexander distinguishes between unselfconscious culture that achieve a good fit between context and form through practice and gradual adaptation and self-conscious culture that aims to achieve theoretical understanding of the complexity of the system and design a solution. The invention of self-conscious "architecture" destroyed the old process of building. The evolution over time is one of the aspects of designing that self-conscious architecture often gets wrong. Stewart Brand opens his book How Buildings Learn with a damning summary:
Almost no buildings adapt well. They're designed not to adapt; also budgeted and financed not to, constructed not to, administered not to, maintained not to, regulated and taxed not to, even remodelled not to. But all buildings (...) adapt anyway, however poorly, because the usages in and around them are changing constantly.
There might be useful ideas that computing can learn from unselfconscious cultures and I will return to this topic in Section 3.1. For self-conscious cultures, designing in a way that allows forms to adapt when the context changes seems to be a major challenge, both for architects and for programmers.
Brand's book does not give a simple answer to the question of how to design an adaptable building, but it suggests a possible methodology and takes the first step. He documents how numerous existing buildings evolved over time and looks for common patterns. Low Road buildings are flexible, cheap to modify and can easily adapt to a very different purpose (such as from a warehouse to a co-working space). High Road buildings adapt slowly with more respect to their history, are more expensive to maintain, but they develop a unique character.
Concepts such as the distinction between High Road and Low Road might directly apply to software systems. On one hand, some software systems provide robust core structure, but can be easily adapted and make it easy to throw away parts that are no longer needed. On the other hand, there are software systems that evolved more slowly, have longer history that they respect and are more expensive to maintain, but can reliably provide services that are complex and cannot be easily replaced.
That said, whether categories such as High and Low Road apply to software is perhaps the less interesting lesson here. The more interesting is the methodology that Stewart Brand proposes and follows. Just like he documents the way buildings evolve over time, we should be documenting how different kinds of software systems evolve. Only then we can meaningfully start looking for various patterns in such evolutions and use this to design more adaptable buildings.
Brand suggests that "the wisdom acquired looking backward must be translated into wisdom looking forward" and asks "how to design new buildings that will endear themselves to preservationists sixty years from now"? Similarly, we should examine existing software systems with respect to time, look for those that evolved in appealing ways (and endeared themselves to preservationists) and use the knowledge we can gain by reflecting on those to design better software systems for the future.
How cities evolve
As I argued earlier, the complexity of some software systems is more akin to the complexity of an entire city than akin to the complexity of a single building. The way city districts evolve and adapt is one of the important topics in The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs. City districts are built by planners, city architects, businesses and the thousands of their inhabitants. A similar range of people have influence on software including the programmers, owners of interfaces that the software interacts with and the thousands of users. Just like cities adapt to serve their inhabitants, software adapts to serve its users and to fit with the environment.
Jane Jacobs argues that city districts that work well for their inhabitants are those with a structure that supports and generates diversity of both uses and inhabitants. Diversity in the structure of a city allows people to stay in the same district as their jobs, interests and family situation changes. A good city district is not one where different functions are clearly separated into, say, office district, a shopping mall and suburb for living, but one that integrates many different functions.
Does this teach us anything about software systems? One of the widely accepted good design practices when building software is separation of concerns, introduced by Dijkstra in his 1974 paper On the role of scientific thought and so it seems that diversity achieved through integration of different functions is exactly against good software engineering principles. However, separation of concerns is something that we often start with and which gradually erodes during the adaptation process that software goes through.
Arnaud Bailly reflects on this reality of software in his talk On the Mode of Existence of Software, which borrows ideas on technical objects introduced by Gilbert Simondon in his 1958 book On the Mode of Existence of Technical Objects. One of the crucial properties of technical objects, such as a car engine, is that they undergo a process of concretization through which components that were initially designed for separate functions start serving multiple purposes. This is very similar to the process through which software evolves and through which it becomes more like the city district discussed by Jane Jacobs.
Urban planners of the 1950s thought that separation of concerns is a good principle for city design. Jane Jacobs pointed out that this is not the reality of welcoming city districts and pioneered a new perspective on urban planning that acknowledges, studies and celebrates this diversity. There might be a similar opportunity for understanding software systems. If we look at software systems that evolved over time, we might learn what factors make the process of concretization work favourably and, fundamentally, learn how to create software that will grow well.
2.3 Navigating and understanding software and cities
So far, I discussed two interesting methodologies that some authors followed in urban planning and architecture. I talked about examining real systems that work in spite of theory and I talked about the need for looking at how systems evolve over time. The third methodology I will consider is to look at how people understand and conceptualize cities and software. This section is mostly inspired by the 1960 book The Image of the City by Kevin Lynch.
In his book, Kevin Lynch studies the legibility of a city. A legible city is "one whose districts or landmarks or pathways are easily identifiable and are easily grouped into an overall pattern." A legible city is more pleasant and easy to live in for its inhabitants. Similarly, I believe that programming needs to strive to produce legible software, both for its users and for its developers and future contributors. I will focus on the latter. The former is obviously also important, but it is a topic for a blog post on user experience design. The methodology for studying legibility of a city (and software) needs to be not only technical, but also psychological. To quote Lynch "we must consider not just the city as a thing in itself, but the city being perceived by its inhabitants."
Lynch identifies a number of aspects of a city that are important for its legibility such as paths, districts and landmarks. He looks at three cities as examples and discusses how different people navigate in the city and what characteristics of districts, paths and other aspects make a city legible. Some interesting points are that more knowledgeable people typically follow paths, while visitors rely on districts; districts are a useful guide for navigation if they each have a different character (such as red brick houses in one and stone buildings in another). The navigation also depends on the mode of transport. Subway (and railroads) gives a disconnected image of the city that is quite different than the one obtained by walking or cycling around.
Thinking about code base of a large software system, we can easily imagine very similar ideas. There are paths that one might follow when reading code, such as the execution order; some paths may be disconnected such as when you search for uses of a certain function or class; there might even be districts in which the code has different character, perhaps because some parts are much older or use a different style (ironically, using inconsistent coding styles might actually help the developer understand that they are in a, say, poorly tested "code district" where making changes is more dangerous).
As before, there might be some concrete similarities between aspects that make a city legible and aspects that make a large code base legible, but the general idea is perhaps more interesting. Legibility is an important property of any non-trivial software. Following Lynch, we should look at a number of good and bad examples, see what aspects of a code structure contribute to legibility and use such lessons for building software and perhaps also developer tools and languages that promote good practices.
3. Borrowing concrete urban planning and architecture ideas
The previous section mostly focused on methodological concerns. The three books about architecture and urban planning by Jane Jacobs, Stewart Brand and Kevin Lync that I used as my main inspiration all follow a method of inquiry that can be adapted to study software systems and that would give us valuable insights about them. However, I suggested earlier that there is a more profound similarity between urban planning or architecture and programming. More specifically, the kind of complexity that programmers need to control is not unlike the complexity that urban planners need to deal with. Because of this similarity, I believe that there is a number of concrete ideas from urban planning and architecture that would translate well to the world of programming. In this section, I look at three such cases.
3.1 Designing adaptable software
There is a wealth of good ideas about designing buildings that adapt well over time in Stewart Brand's How Buildings Learn. Those that I find the most relevant for software are ideas around maintenance and, more specifically, around materials. When discussing maintenance, Brand mentions the cautionary tale of vinyl siding, which is used to avoid problems with peeling paint. Rather than repainting a wooden wall, you cover it with a layer of vinyl siding, which is durable and weather resistant. The problem is that vinyl siding blocks moisture and the humidity behind it can cause structural damage to the building. Many traditional materials have the attractive property that they look bad before they act bad and, furthermore, the problems with traditional materials are well understood.
I suppose that the material from which software is built would include things like programming languages and libraries. The lesson about using traditional materials has a relatively easy parallel. If you build software using tools whose problems you understand, you will be able to expect and resolve those problems. If you are using a new material, you will not anticipate where problems might occur. The lesson about materials that look bad before they act bad suggests a more interesting challenge. How do we build software so that it gradually and gracefully degrades rather than abruptly stops working?
Another point made by Brand is about maintenance more generally. Just like software systems, any building built using any kind of materials requires some maintenance over time. And just like with software systems, building owners are often bad at performing the necessary maintenance.
Too often a new building is a teacher of bad maintenance habits. After the initial shakedown period, everything pretty much works, and the owner and inhabitants gratefully stop paying attention to the place. Once attention is deferred, deferring of maintenance comes naturally.
A clever answer is to design buildings so that they teach good maintenance habits and design some parts of the original work as intentionally ephemeral. If there are parts that will require maintenance within a year, we will get into a good habit that is necessary anyway once the building is older. The same seems to be a very good suggestion for building software systems. If we build our systems in a way that intentionally makes some parts degrade more quickly, we will establish the right methods and processes for maintenance that will be valuable in the long run. The idea of chaos engineering is perhaps a first step in this direction.
More generally, Brand also points out that all buildings are predictions and all predictions are wrong. When designing a building, doing so for one specific use will soon make it wrong, because it turns out that our understanding of the use case was not correct. In software, we know only too well that requirements change. Rather than developing a concrete plan based on our best understanding, we should develop a strategy that is designed to encompass unforeseeably changing conditions. Brand suggests that architects should use strategic planning methods such as scenario planning. Again, there might be interesting lessons here for software development methodologies.
3.2 Vernacular design method
When discussing how buildings evolve, I mentioned the contrast between unselfconscious cultures and our modern self-conscious architecture that Christopher Alexander identifies. Self-conscious approach to buildings requires us to analyse all aspects of the context and design a solution to problems we identify. The unselfconscious approach achieves a good fit through practice without understanding. For example, Musgum mud huts evolved to use the mathematically ideal catenary arch and are extremely good at keeping houses cool inside on hot summer days. Stewart Brand also discusses how buildings are adapted by non-architects and uses the term vernacular architecture. The common lesson is that there are ways of achieving a good design without explicitly designing. Some practices of such vernacular or unselfconscious approaches might work equally well when building software systems.
Vernacular design restricts the scope of the problem by limiting architectural ideas to what is typically used in the local context. This reduces the design task and allows the builder to focus on skilful solutions to specific problems rather than at reinventing forms. Such folk architecture might appear homogeneous and unified at first, but is rich and diversified in details. As Alexander acknowledges, unselfconscious cultures never face the problem of complexity that we face, but they are still worth studying because they have a very efficient way of solving problems in a more narrow context.
In software construction, we often start by reinventing the form and, consequently, we have to face a very wide range of design problems. Are there cases of software construction that are more akin to the vernacular or unselfconscious design? One possible area of interest might be how people solve problems in spreadsheet systems like Excel. Spreadsheets define a relatively fixed form and allow the user to focus on skilful solutions to specific problems. Thanks to the fixed form, such specific problem solutions often transfer well between different applications. Perhaps there are other problem domains where having a fixed form would allow us be more efficient and allow us to focus on specific problems rather than on reinventing the form, which introduces a very wide range of challenging design problems.
Christopher Alexander makes a number of useful observations about the process used by unselfconscious cultures. To paraphrase the main point, the design process is self-adjusting and produces well-fitting forms by actively maintaining an equilibrium with context. If the good fit is disrupted in any way, the unselfconscious culture will seek ways of adapting their practice to resolve the mismatch. For this, two conditions are necessary. First, there must be enough time for finding the adaptation.
The adjustment of forms must proceed more quickly than the drift of the culture context ? Unless this condition is fulfilled the system can never produce well-fitting forms, for the equilibrium of the adaptation will not be sustained.
The second condition is that the process needs to provide feedback to allow direct response.
If the process is to maintain the good fit of dwelling forms while the culture drifts, it needs a feedback sensitive enough to take action the moment that one of the potential failures actually occurs.
The immediate feedback mechanism allows quick response to design challenges and it prevents the build-up of multiple failures. Such multiple failures would require simultaneous correction, which is where a more self-conscious approach to dealing with complexity becomes necessary.
The above analysis might provide us with useful hints on how to design programming tools that allow users (or programmers) to build software systems in a way that does not require us to solve complex design problems. We have to start with a standard (or traditional) form that is sufficiently constrained so that there is no room for complete reinvention of the form. We then need good feedback mechanisms that reveal misfits between the form and what we try to achieve. Finally, the process also needs to be slow enough to give sufficient time for making individual adaptations and prevent build-up of mismatches. This approach would perhaps get us closer to the dream of end-user development, which seems like the closest software analogy to vernacular or unselfconscious cultures.
3.3 Dealing with organized complexity
In Section 1.1, I argued that there is a similarity between the kind of complexity that urban planners have to deal with and the kind of complexity that software engineers have to handle. As pointed out by David Parnas, software systems are non-repetitive digital systems, meaning that they have an intractable number of state and there is no obvious way of reducing this number. Similarly, urban planning is a problem of organized complexity and there is no obvious way of reducing this complexity, say, through statistics.
Urban planners that Jane Jacobs criticises viewed cities as problems of unorganized complexity which makes it possible to reduce the complexity using statistical analyses:
In the form of statistics, [citizens] were no longer components of any unit except the family, and could be dealt with intellectually like grains of sand, or electrons, or billiard balls. (...) It became possible to map out master plans for the statistical city, and people take these more seriously, for we are all accustomed to believe that maps and reality are necessarily related, or if they are not, we can make them so by altering reality.
Software engineers and programming theoreticians nowadays seem to me to be a bit like urban planners of the 1930s. We treat software systems as systems of complexity that can be reduced, typically via logic rather than using statistics, to allow us to fully understand the systems we are building. I believe we need to accept that this is infeasible and Life and Death of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs is a good source of ideas about how to deal with non-reducible complexity. She summarizes her observations by saying:
In the case of understanding cities, I think the most important habits of thought are these: (1) to think about processes; (2) to work inductively; (3) to seek for 'unaverage' clues involving very small quantities, which reveal the way larger and more 'average' quantities are operating.
An example of unaverage value discussed by Jacobs is the case of a chain of five bookshops with four locations in New York. Four of those stay open until 10pm or midnight, but one in Brooklyn downtown closes at 8pm. "Here is a management which keeps its stores open late, if there is business to be had." The fifth store tells us that Brooklyn's downtown is dead by 8pm, which is a valuable insight for an urban planner.
I believe programming language researchers have much to learn from Jane Jacobs. When studying programming languages, we often try to find their essence or foundations and we end up looking at a reduced version of the problem that hides interesting unaverage properties. Rather than looking at reduced essence, we should perhaps be taking non-reductionist view and look at interesting unexpected cases, examples and applications.
This blog post is by no means trying to present any concrete results or even give any concrete advice that software engineers or programming researchers could follow. It is perhaps best seen as my reading notes on four books on architecture and urban planning. Specifically, I talked about The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs, How Buildings Learn by Stewart Brand, Notes on the Synthesis of Form by Christopher Alexander and The Image of the City by Kevin Lynch.
My motivation for reading those books in the first place is that I find the typical sources of ideas for programming and programming research of only limited use. Programming imported a number of useful ideas from sciences, mathematics and engineering, but I believe we need to be looking further if we want to come up with new and better ways of constructing software. Architecture and urban planning might be valuable and inspiring sources of ideas and I started this article by discussing why. There is a number of similarities between those and programming, most importantly the fact that they deal with a similar kind of complexity.
I then looked at two ways in which programming research could learn from architecture and urban planning. More generally, the aforementioned books follow interesting methodologies that would be worth imitating in the context of software. We should look for software that works well in spite of theory; we should study how software evolves and we should study what image of code base do programmers keep in their mind.
More specifically, there are also a number of concrete ideas from urban planning and architecture that could, more or less directly, be applied to programming. Those are ideas around designing adaptable buildings (and adaptable software), understanding how vernacular (unselfconscious) design method finds fit between a form and a context and ways of studying unorganized complexity by focusing on unaverage values in their full richness.
So far, the software industry borrowed the idea of design patterns from architecture, although many would say that our version of the idea is a mere caricature of what architects envisioned. I would not be surprised if the next great idea in programming was also inspired by architecture or urban planning. I'm just curious to see whether it will be one of those discussed in this blog post or not.
- Rebecca Slayton (2013). Arguments that Count
- Stewart Brand (1995). How Buildings Learn: What happens after they're built
- Jane Jacobs (1961). The Death and Life of Great American Cities
- David Parnas (1985). Software Aspects of Strategic Defence Systems
- Christopher Alexander (1964). Notes on the Synthesis of Form
- Fred Brooks (1986). No Silver Bullet
- Peter Naur (1993). The Place of Strictly Defined Notation in Human Insight
- Susanne Bødker, Henrik Korsgaard, Joanna Saad-Sulonen (2016). A Farmer, a Place and at least 20 Members: The Development of Artifact Ecologies in Volunteer-based Communities
- Colin Clark, Antranig Basman (2017). Tracing a Paradigm for Externalization: Avatars and the GPII Nexus
- Bertrand Meyer (1988). Object-Oriented Software Construction. Prentice Hall.
- Edsger Dijkstra (1974). On the role of scientific thought.
- Gilbert Simondon (1958). On the Mode of Existence of Technical Objects
- Kevin Lynch (1960). The Image of the City
- Leo Meyerovich and Ariel Rabkin (2012). Socio-PLT: Principles for programming language adoption