Form Follows Function on SPaMCast 426


One of the benefits of being a regular on Tom Cagley’s Software Process and Measurement (SPaMCast) podcast is getting to take part in the year-end round table (episode 426). Jeremy Berriault, Steve Tendon, Jon M. Quigley and I joined Tom for a discussion of:

  1. Whether software quality would be a focus of IT in 2017
  2. Whether Agile is over, at least as far as Agile as a principle-driven movement
  3. Whether security will be more important than quality and productivity in the year ahead

It was a great discussion and, as Tom noted, a great way to finish off the tenth year of the SPAMCast and kickoff year eleven.

You can find all my SPaMCast episodes using under the SPAMCast Appearances category on this blog. Enjoy!

Situational Awareness – Where does it begin? Where does it end?

Infinity symbol

Situational awareness, according to Wikipedia, is defined as “…the perception of environmental elements and events with respect to time or space, the comprehension of their meaning, and the projection of their status after some variable has changed, such as time, or some other variable, such as a predetermined event”. In other words, it’s having a handle on what currently is and what is about to happen. It’s a concept that is invaluable to a wide range of interests, particularly management/leadership, architectural design, and innovation. It’s a concept that crosses levels, from tactical to strategic. Just as socio-technical systems architectures exist in a fractal space (application to solution to enterprise), so too does the concept of situational awareness. As such, it’s a common theme for this site, particularly over the last year or so.

The OODA (Observe-Orient-Decide-Act) Loop, developed by Air Force Colonel John Boyd, is a framework for decision-making that explicitly incorporates situational awareness:

OODA Loop Diagram

Coupling sense-making with decision-making is critical to achieve a balance of both speed and effectiveness. In my opinion, acting without taking the state of the environment into account is a recipe for disaster. Equally important (likewise, in my opinion), is understanding the dynamic nature of situational awareness. As Boyd’s diagram above shows, it’s not a linear process. Additionally, the very nature of a loop should convey the fact that there’s neither beginning nor end. This is a key concept.

One of the sites that I follow is Slightly East of New, which is run by an associate of Boyd’s and dedicated to his theories. A recent post on that site, “The magic of the OODA loop”, related a paragraph from a sci-fi novel, The Apocalypse Codex, that referred to OODA:

Observe, orient, decide, act: words to live or die by. Right now, Persephone is disoriented — on the run, cut off. It’s time to go on the offensive, work out where she is and what’s going on, then get the hell out of this trap.

It was an interesting post, but nothing noteworthy, until I got to this comment:

I find the phrase, “…on the run, cut off.” very interesting, within the context of “disoriented”. To me, “on the run” mean a decision has been made and acted on, whereas “disorientation” usually means that one can’t make a decision.
Likewise, “cut off” is the position you find yourself in, after all the decisions have been made and, after thinking about it, it is the posture you observe yourself to be in.
In other words, on the run and cut off is not really a disorientation, but a reality.
So, while you may not survive, you have made a decision to run or you are about to make a decision and join the otherside.
I suppose it just depends on where those words show up in the narrative, as to if you made the decision or your competitor made the decision for you.

I may be over-sensitive to the phrasing, but “…decision has been made and acted on…” and “…after all the decisions have been made…” strike me as being too static and too linear. Every action/inaction follows on decision/indecision. The point “…after all the decisions have been made…” is terminal (for the person who has made all the decisions they will make). In my opinion, it is key to bear in mind that the clock is always running and that the reality being processed is already past. Too much attention to the state of what is (or rather, was) takes away from the more important task of getting to a better “to be” state. Additionally, decisions and contexts should be thought of as not just linear, but fractal (e.g. having multiple levels from tactical through strategic) as well.

Loops that have an end are no longer loops. Likewise, we have to be able to strike a balance between just focusing on what’s relevant (too much context/backstory can cause information overload) and the point where we’ve trimmed away necessary context.

Actively thinking about sense-making and decision-making can seem overly academic. The activities are so foundational to nearly everything that they can feel instinctual rather than learned. I suspect that’s a case of “familiarity breeds contempt”. Depending on the application, contempt for developing the best possible situational awareness could be fatal.

[OODA Loop diagram by Patrick Edwin Moran via Wikimedia Commons]

Pragmatic Application Architecture

I saw a tweet on Friday about a SlideShare deck that looked interesting, so I bookmarked it to read later. As I was reading it this morning, I found myself agreeing with the points being made. When I got to the next to the last slide, I found myself (or at least, this blog) listed alongside some very distinguished company under “Reading Material”.

Thanks, Bart Blommaerts and nice job!

Designing Communication, Communicating Design

The Simplest metamodel in the world ever!

We work in a communications industry.

We create and maintain systems to move information around in order to get things done. That information moves between people and systems in combinations and configurations too numerous to count. In spite of that, we don’t do that great a job of communicating what should be, for us, extremely important information. We tend to be really bad at communicating the architecture of our systems – structure, behavior, and most importantly, the reasons for the decisions made. It’s bad enough when we fail to adequately communicate that information to others, it’s really bad when we fail to communicate it to ourselves. I know I’ve let myself down more than once (“What was I thinking here?!”).

Over the past few days, I’ve been privileged to follow (and even contribute a bit to) a set of conversations on Twitter. Grady Booch, Ivar Jacobson, Ruth Malan, Simon Brown, and others have been discussing the need for architectural awareness and the state of communicating architecture.

This exchange between Simon, Chris Carroll and Eoin Woods sums it up well:

First and foremost, an understanding of what the role of a software architect is and why it’s important is needed. Any organization where the role is seen as either just a senior developer or (heaven help us!) some sort of Taylorist “thinker” who designs everything for the “worker bee” coders to implement, is almost guaranteed to be challenged in terms of application architecture. Resting on that foundation of shifting sand, the organization’s enterprise IT architecture (EITA) is likewise almost guaranteed to be challenged barring a remarkable series of “happy accidents”. The role (not necessarily position) of software architect is required, because software architecture is a distinct set of concerns that can either be addressed intentionally or left to emerge haphazardly out of the construction of the system.

Before we can communicate the architecture of a system, it’s necessary to understand what that is. In “Software Architecture: Central Concerns, Key Decisions”, Ruth Malan and Dana Bredemeyer defined it as high impact, systemic decisions involving (at a minimum):

  • system priority setting
  • system decomposition and composition
  • system properties, especially cross-cutting concerns
  • system fit to context
  • system integrity

I don’t think it’s possible to over-emphasize the use of “system” and “systemic” in the preceding paragraphs. That being said, it’s important to understand that architectural concerns do not exist in a void. There is a cyclic relationship between the architectural concerns of a system and the system’s code. The architectural concerns guide the implementation, while the implementation defines the current state of the architecture and constrains the evolution of future state of the architecture. Code is a necessary, but insufficient source of architectural knowledge – it’s not enough. As Ruth Malan noted in the Visual Design portion (part II) of her presentation at the Software Architect Conference in London a year ago:

Slide from Ruth Malan's presentation on Visual Design

While the code serves as a foundation of the system, it’s also important to realize that the system exists within a larger context. There is a fractal set of systems within systems within ecosystems. Ruth illustrated this in the Intention and Reflection portion (part III) of the presentation reference above:

Slide from Ruth Malan's presentation on Intention and Reflection

[Note: Take the time to view the entirety of the Intention and Reflection presentation. It’s an excellent overview of how to design the architecture of a system.]

The fractal nature of systems within systems within ecosystems is illustrated by the image at the top of the post (h/t to Ric Phillips for the reblog of it). Richard Sage‘s humorous (though only partly, I’m sure) suggestion of it as a meta-model goes a long way towards portraying the problem of a language to communicate architecture.

Not only are we dealing with a nested set of “things”, but the understanding of those things differ according to the stakeholder. For example, while the business owner might see a “web site” as one monolithic thing, the architect might see an application made up of code components depending on other applications and services running on a collection of servers. Maintaining a coherent, normalized object model of the system yet being able to present it in multiple ways (some of which might be difficult to relate) is not a trivial exercise.

Lower-level aspects of design lend themselves to automated solutions, which can increase reliability of the model by avoiding “documentation rot”. An interesting (in my opinion) aspect that can also be automated is the evolution of code over time. What can’t be parsed from the code, however, is intention and reasoning.

Another barrier to communication is the need to be both expressive and flexible (also well illustrated by Richard’s meta-model) while also being simple enough to use. UML works well on the former, but (rightly or wrongly) is perceived to fail on the latter. Simon Brown’s C4 model aims to achieve a better balance in that aspect.

At present, I don’t think we have one tool that does it all. I suspect that even with a suite of tools, that narrative documents will still be way some aspects are captured and communicated. Having a centralized store for the non-code bits (with a way to relate them back to the code) would be a great thing.

All in all, it is encouraging to see people talking about the need for architectural design and the need to communicate the aspects of that design.

Form Follows Function on SPaMCast 415


This week’s episode of Tom Cagley’s Software Process and Measurement (SPaMCast) podcast, number 415, features Tom’s essay on recognizing risk and risk tolerance, Kim Pries on change models, a Form Follows Function installment based on my post “All Aboard the Innovation Band Wagon?”, and Jon Quigley on requirements management.

Innovation is the topic of our discussion this time – what it is, whether it’s something that every organization can achieve, and is there a recipe? Everyone wants to be an innovator, but there’s a lot of question around just what that entails.

You can find all my SPaMCast episodes using under the SPAMCast Appearances category on this blog. Enjoy!

Design for Life

Soundview, Bronx, NY


The underlying theme of my last post, “Babies, Bathwater, and Software Architects”, was that it’s necessary to understand the role of a software architect in order to understand the need for that role. If our understanding of the role is flawed, not just missing aspects of what the role should be focusing on, but also largely consisting of things the role should not be concerned with, then we can’t really effectively determine whether the role is needed or not. If a person drowning is told that an anvil is a life-preserver, that doesn’t mean that they don’t need a life-preserver. It does mean they need a better definition of “life-preserver”.

Ruth Malan, answering the question “Do we still need architects?”, captures the essence of what is unique about the concerns of the software architect role:

There’s paying attention to the structural integrity of the code when that competes with the urge to deliver value and all we’ve been able to accomplish in terms of the responsiveness of continuous integration and deployment. We don’t intend to let the code devolve as we respond to unfolding demands, but we have to intend not to, and that takes time — possibly time away from the next increment of user-perceived value. There’s watching for architecturally impactful, structurally and strategically significant decisions, and making sure they get the attention, reflection, expertise they require. Even when the team periodically takes stock, and spends time reflecting learning back into the design/code, the architect’s role is to facilitate, to nurture, the design integrity of the system as a system – as something coherent. Where coherence is about not just fit and function, but system properties. Non-trivial, mutually interacting properties that entail tradeoffs. Moreover, this coherence must be achieved across (microservice, or whatever, focused) teams. This takes technical know-how and know-when, and know-who to work with, to bring needed expertise to bear.

These system properties are crucial, because without a cohesive set of system properties (aka quality of service requirements), the quality of the system suffers:

Even if the parts are perfectly implemented and fly in perfect formation, the quality is still lacking.

A tweet from Charles T. Betz points out the missing ingredient:

Now, even though Frederick Brooks was writing about the architecture of hardware, and the nature of users has drastically evolved over the last fifty-four years, his point remains: “Architecture must include engineering considerations, so that the design will be economica1 and feasible; but the emphasis in architecture is upon the needs of the user, whereas in engineering the emphasis is upon the needs of the fabricator.”

In other words, habitability, the quality of being “livable”, is a critical condition for an architecture. Two systems providing the exact same functionality may not be equivalent. The system providing the “better” (from the user’s perspective) quality of service will most likely be seen as the superior system. In some cases, quality of service concerns can even outweigh functional concerns.

Who, if not the software architect, is looking out for the livability of your system as a whole?

Babies, Bathwater, and Software Architects

'Fixing Problems' - XKCD 1739

I try to be disciplined about my writing (picking themes, creating a backlog, collecting notes and links on those topics, etc.), but it seems like serendipity won’t be denied, no matter what I do. On the same day that XKCD published this cartoon, Erik Dietrich published “Software Architect as a Developer Pension Plan”. While I agree with a lot that Erik says in the post, I think he also gets into a “throwing out the baby with the bathwater” situation by dismissing the need for the software architect role, part of which the cartoon illustrates.

Before I go any farther, I do need to point out that I’ve been following and interacting with Erik for about four years now. It’s a friendly disagreement; meant to be more debate than argument.

In the post, Erik makes the point (which I largely agree with) that companies see the role of software architect through a Taylorist lens. They see the software architect as a “thinker”, meant to drive a herd of “doers”:

The modern corporation, like Taylor before it, loosely divides into three categories of humans: owners/executives, managers, and grunts. Owners own and charge executives with executing their will. Executives delegate to managers. Managers think and assemble the workers into org charts designed to optimize efficiency. Workers keep their simple heads down and do as they’re told.

Theoretically, proponents would say, this applies to any domain and type of work. Corporations form themselves into these pyramids without considering any other options, whether they’re private military outfits, gigantic manufacturing facilities, or companies designing and selling software. Of course, the reality turns out to be that not all operations do well splitting thinking and labor. Let’s pick one at random. Oh, I dunno, say, writing software.

We try it. We hire junior developers to be directed by senior ones. And all of them fall in line under the watchful guise of a “tech lead,” who defers to a council of architects. And somewhere at the center of the organizational maelstrom stands The Lead Architect, directing elaborate bucket marches, water flows, and all sorts of magic, like Mickey Mouse in Fantasia. It’s a beautiful, cascading symphony of work flowing from the cleverest down to the simplest. Or… at least, that’s how it goes on paper.

Erik rightly argues that this model is fatally flawed. This is doubly so in the case of the example he gives, an individual offered a position as a software architect doing the thinking for a set of offshore “commodity” developers. Offshore development can be done well (that’s a post I’ll save for another day), but not using that model. Where Erik goes wrong, in my opinion, is in adopting this flawed definition of the software architect role.

Developers should be perfectly competent to do their own thinking. If they’re not, no software architect will be able to help. Even if that person were capable of handling the load of providing detailed directions for several developers, doing so would prevent them from attending to their own areas of concern. It would require being able to anticipate and make all the functional design decisions up front, as well as communicating them to multiple “typists” quicker than they could mindlessly hammer out the code, while still having time to consider all the requisite cross-cutting, quality of service considerations for an application. Do we really need to bother with experiments to determine that this is beyond improbable?

There is a separation between the developer role and software architect role, but it needs to be clearly understood as a difference in focus. A developer’s focus is more vertical, concentrating on implementing functionality while maintaining/improving/not harming the quality of service (aka the horrendously misnamed “non-functional”) aspects of the system. A software architect’s focus should be more horizontal, concentrating on the architecturally significant quality of service aspects that will enable the system to meet the needs of its stakeholders (or, at least, not unreasonably prevent the system from doing so).

The difference between the roles is a matter of thinking at different levels of abstraction, not of one being superior to the other. The two mindsets are both necessary and complementary. A high-quality architectural design without quality implementation cannot produce a high-quality system. Likewise, where there is implementation without architectural coordination, the quality of the resulting system is a matter of chance. For very small systems maintained by small, permanent teams, it may not be necessary for these roles to be distinct. In my experience, however, dealing with both the broadly general and the very specific at the same time scales poorly. Non-trivial systems quickly come to require architectural leadership, otherwise people are left fixing problems caused by problems fixed previously.

Leadership has been the main theme of almost all of my posts this month and has figured prominently in several of what’s been written this year. Many of these posts are assigned to the “Architectural Practice” category. This is because I absolutely believe that the software architect role is a leadership role. That being said, I don’t consider the Taylorist model to be effective leadership practice. In fact, I consider it an anti-pattern.

I’ve long been an advocate of a more collaborative model of practice. Rather than dictating, the software architect’s role should be one of consensus building and communication. Significant architectural disagreement indicates an issue with one or more members of the team. Significant uncertainty about the architecture indicates an issue with the software architect role.

Effective systems require both breadth and depth of effectiveness. This holds true for software systems as much as social systems. For the social systems producing software systems for use by other social systems (i.e. software development teams), it is imperative.