Computer Elitism and the Clash of the Titans

Computer elitism annoys me. Everyone has some skill they could choose to lord over other people. But electricians and plumbers don’t have this going on. Maybe auto mechanics do a little bit. But no other technical service worker can match an IT worker’s clichéd arrogance. It’s a stereotype that’s quickly grown up around the field and for the most part it’s accurate.

Within the more arcane areas of computer work (those areas set aside for people with Computer Science degrees instead of Computer Information Systems or what have you) the elitism is even more rampant. Collectively, we don’t just look down on the rest of the world for their technical infancy, we look down on the other computer people, too.

I’m reminded of a conversation I had in college with a fellow Comp Sci. He was telling me about how he was taking a VB class in the CIS department just for elective credit and giggles. “They don’t even know how to write a recursive function!” he told me. Now, it’s true, every programmer should be able to wield recursion with the finesse of a fencer with his foil. But recursion isn’t an intuitive technique; it’s as if the fencer were using his left hand. Mastery of recursion actually takes quite a bit of Zen meditation. Eventually you can levitate four, even five feet off the ground while working out the base case of the function. But I digress.

My driving passions in computing are quite different from those of most other computer people I’ve met. If I were going to go to grad school, I’d specialize in either Artificial Intelligence or user interface design. For me, their applications are two sides of the same coin: removing communicative barriers between the brain of a human and the brain of a computer.

I want to be the Prometheus of computing, defiantly giving the proverbial gift of fire to the mortal people of the world, much to the elitist chagrin of my peers. Were I a more career-oriented individual, I’d strive to reshape the direction of computing development so that everyone can have the confidence and power over computers that a (highly metaphorical) Titan like me already has.

This is exactly why I use a Mac: both the hardware and software design have the fewest communicative barriers between my thoughts and the electronic bits. I can make it do exactly what I want a computer to do with minimal extraneous thought. In a small way, it’s the closest I can get to having true telekinesis.

The irony is that I do sometimes take elitist pleasure in my Mac use. I think most of us have probably met those over-zealous Mac users of the world. My zeal has calmed but, not-so-secretly, I still don’t understand why anyone without a hole in the head would deliberately use a Windows system.

The further irony is the implicit elitism in the Prometheus analogy: in order to deliver the power of the gods to humanity, I must consider myself a god to begin with.

So in conclusion, you peons, don’t get in my way or you shall be totally pwned by my l337 hax0ring.

Going Overboard with Supposed Ease-of-Use

I’m probably either preaching to the choir or the completely uninterested here, but over the years I’ve often made comments to the effect that Microsoft’s products are bad. Among what I consider to be numerous flaws, I find their interface design to be completely boneheaded, as it has been since Windows was born.

The screen shot at the right is something I ran across on a coding web site while searching for C# information. I had no idea Visual Studio .NET had a “Method Wizard.” But such a thing is a perfect example of Microsoft’s bass-ackwards approach to creating an intuitive user experience. For those of you who don’t code, a Method Wizard is completely superfluous. If you can’t write the skeleton of a method yourself (which is all the Wizard does), you shouldn’t be coding in the first place. You should be reading a book on coding, or taking a class.

To draw a comparison to a more accessible notion, imagine Microsoft Word had a Sentence Wizard. First it would ask you “What kind of sentence is this?” and you would click a button for, let’s say, Declarative or Interrogative. At that point, the Wizard would go ahead and put a period or question mark at the end of your prototype sentence. Then it have you fill in a blank for the subject and verb of the sentence. Then it would ask you “Would you like to use any conjunctions to add other subjects or verbs to the sentence?” After filling in a dozen more blanks, you would click a “Finish” button, and the Sentence Wizard would insert your sentence into the Word document, at which point you could manually input Creative Flair (for which there would also be an optional Wizard).

The Method Wizard is just as absurd as my hypothetical Sentence Wizard. But programming is a more esoteric art than English composition, and Microsoft dictates what’s “normal” in the computer world. So when Microsoft adds completely boneheaded tools to their products, calling them “features,” few question them.

In computer-user interfaces, less is more. The more unobtrustive and transparent a new feature is, the better it is, generally. I’m tempted to draw a comparison to politics (i.e. small, out-of-your-face Federal government is inherently better) but, hey, that’s politics. Instead, a good computer interface is like a good employee. A good employee should know what the Big Picture of his job is and get it done with minimal guidance. A good employee is not good because he coddles his supervisor; he is good because he can anticipate his supervisor’s needs and then fulfill them without even need to be told to do so. Supervisors never have to micro-manage a good employee, and conversely not having to micro-manage makes the supervisor a better one.

Microsoft exhibits an interface design philosophy of “if less is more, then think how much more more would be!”. More buttons, more Wizards, more hand-holding, more bloat. Microsoft’s products are analogous to an employee who doesn’t bother to step back and think about the Big Picture, so he brings every little tiny decision to the attention of his supervisor. But the extra attention is all condescension, because he doesn’t actually think his supervisor knows anything about how to do his own job. So the employee presents every question in terms of multiple choice. The buzz-term “thinking outside the box” only exists because such employees boxed themselves in in the first place.

Incidentally, Microsoft is only the juggernaut that sets the bar in the industry with consistent stupidity. But sadly the vast majority of computer interfaces are designed with minimal forethought, producing piss-poor results. Gnome is the only Linux product that even shows evidence of thinking about these issues (though one could argue that its efforts fall short in execution); every single other aspect of every single distribution of Linux I’ve ever seen has completely missed this key principle, all the way from the Windows-mimicking, “even Grandma can use it” window managers to the kernel recompilation process. Even the Mac OS, the lone bastion of halfway good user interface design, took some boneheaded turns with OS X which only show signs of getting worse.

To Microsoft: next time you get the idea to write a Wizard, don’t. We’ve already left the nest, and we know how to fly. You’re supposed to be the turbo jet engines strapped to our wings, not an overprotective mama bird constantly reminding us how to flap. Boy, that was a dumb analogy.

Talk Smart

An article entitled, “Are Mac Users Smarter Than PC Users?”

Oooooh, them’s fightin’ words.

I found myself nodding, smiling, and even uttering, “Right On!” while reading it, but not for the reasons you might think.

True, I still prefer the Mac above any other platform out there right now, but I’ve left my zeal behind. The argument over which operating system is “best” is, to me, like arguing over which car is “best”: everyone has different needs and preferences, and isn’t it by now painfully obvious to anyone with a brain that SUV’s are an unjustifiable waste of money and fossil fuels for all but the most adventurous outdoorsman? Ultimately, the operating system debate nowadays just leaves me as disgusted with the American deities of Consumerism and Fashion as does the car debate. Though you still might choose or be coerced into using it for one reason or another, if you have a brain, you can tell Windows sucks, and that Microsoft is out to screw you as roughly and coldly as possible.

No, the reason I like this article so much is because the author uses written communication skills as a benchmark for intelligence. I don’t claim to be in the upper echelons of the communication skills continuum, because — Lord knows — I’ve failed to make myself understood on even the most basic level to many people over the years, and continuing to this day. But I’d still argue that one cannot claim to be an exceptionally intelligent person without being an exceptional communicator in the vast majority of cases and contexts. If one is unable or simply uninterested in using language with finely honed correctness and with expressive subtlety, then one’s intelligence is either largely* moot because it’s impotent to affect anyone else, or that intelligence is simply non-existant. The proof is in the pudding, and the pudding of intelligence is language. (Best metaphor ever.)

</arrogant soap box>

*Okay, granted, someone could be a hermit unable to communicate but who invents a quantum computer all alone. That’s pretty undisputable intelligence. But that’s why I qualified that sentence with “largely” instead of “entirely”.