All posts by Stephen Darlington

Blog

How Westminster Works… and why it doesn’t

If there’s one good thing that has come out of the whole Brexit omnishambles, it’s that my understanding of how British politics works has dramatically increased. I don’t think it’s worth the cost, but understanding how laws are debated and passed is something that should be taught in schools, but isn’t.

Brexit taught me about Proroguing Parliament and the various readings of bills. I learned of the role that committees serve and the works that the Lords do. It made me do homework to find out what a “three line whip” is.

My piecemeal approach to understanding the whole was interesting, but delegating the hard work of structuring it into a cohesive whole was worth it. Thanks, Ian Dunt.

This isn’t a balanced, academic treatise. Rather, it’s pitched as how it doesn’t work with an epilogue suggesting solutions to the worst problems. The writing is energetic, angry even, but clear and structured. This energy is what keeps the book entertaining, in what could have been a dry subject matter.

If you’re familiar with his podcasting work, you might be disappointed by the lack of swearing. If so, make sure you read the acknowledgements. There’s no bad language, but the vignette with his dog is illuminating.

Blog

A Decade in Tory

“A Decade in Tory” by Russell Jones was a shorter book than I thought. Ordinarily that might be a bad thing, but the reason for my confusion in this case is that there are nearly five hundred pages of footnotes and fifty for the index. There are plenty of criticisms you could make, but you can’t argue that it’s not well researched or that the events are made up.

Because, honestly, if you hadn’t lived through some of the stories, read about them as they occurred, you might well think they were fictional.

If it’s not obvious from the title, the book documents the various Conservative led governments from 2010 to 2022. It lists all the little twists and turns that you vaguely remember but had tried to forget.

That could all be a bit tedious and dry, but Jones has a way with words. He’s not going to win any literary awards but his description of some politicians are hard to forget.

Jacob Rees-Mogg, the precise physical intersection of a cursed oboe and the concept of gout.

And:

He’s so devoid of personality that his official portrait is the curtains behind him.

You might be able to guess who this is.

She’s like a modern-day Cnut; and that’s not a typo, you just think it is.

It’s simply structured, easy to read and very self-aware.

It’s absolutely fine to scream occasionally while reading this book.

It’s not a classic. It’s not pretending to be unbiased. It won’t change anyone’s mind. In fact, you’ll likely know whether you’ll like it. Check out his feed on Twitter if you want a free preview.

It made Tory MPs feel very cross, and made everybody participating feel very cross, and it achieved absolutely nothing. A bit like this book.

If you’d forgotten how rotten the Torys have become, this book is a great reminder. But it’s important to keep some perspective and understand that politicians are not all the same. Many genuinely do get into politics to improve people’s lives and make the world better. I hope you voted for them in yesterday’s council elections, and not the bunch of Charlatans this book is about.

Blog

How Not To Be Wrong

“How not to be wrong: The art of changing your mind” is a follow-up to James O’Brien’s earlier book, “How to be right.” The idea this time is that he walks through a number of areas where he has been wrong in the past and has changed his mind.

It’s such a simple concept, but, as a society, we have difficulty doing exactly that. Politicians are criticised for doing the wrong thing and then again for doing a u-turn. Tribal loyalty means that people won’t change their minds if that would mean agreeing with “the enemy.” I’m not putting myself above this1, sadly, and neither does O’Brien.

He explores a wide range of subjects, from corporal punishment in schools, to stop and search, tattoos, fat-shaming and trans rights. For some subjects, he admits he was wrong, others we discover that it’s all a bit more complicated than that, and that, perhaps, anyone with absolute certainty is missing something. We’d be better off as a society if people were willing to say “I don’t know” more often.

The debates are a mixture of personal anecdotes and transcripts from guests on his radio show. It’s simply structured and competently written. His earnest, chummy, man-of-the-people vibe, also present in his earlier book, grated on me more this time for some reason. Overall I’d say that I like the idea of the book more than the execution.

Like his previous effort, it’s not a bad book but nor is it an essential read.

  1. “Fortunately,” the current government isn’t giving me much opportunity to reluctantly agree with them. ↩︎
Blog

Jeremy Hardy Speaks Volumes

I have a problem with this book. Now that I come to write some notes on it, I find that there is so much that I want to quote that I may as well copy and paste the whole text.

I’m not going to, but here are a few.

I hate competitiveness, because I know I’m better than that.

And.

People say I’m self-deprecating, but I don’t think I’m very good at that.

While his one-liners are great, his rants are really his trademark. The book includes plenty of those.

The book is structured into categories, from Childhood and Settling Down to Identity Politics and Getting Older. Each subject dips into material from his entire career, placing some mid-eighties standup next to a 2017 rant on the News Quiz. I was initially annoyed that it wasn’t chronological, but as I continued to read it, I found that it worked well. Hardy hit the standup circuit fully formed, and his early routines were as sharp and well-written as his later material.

You think Van Morrison is poor people’s Ocado.

His material is a fascinating combination of cleverness, principles and silliness, and you could never tell which direction the next sentence would go. He’d start talking about family life and twist it into a surreal play on words.

I hate the gym so much. The only thing I like is the resistance training. We blew up a bridge yesterday.

I also enjoyed the pieces by friends. They captured aspects of his personality incredibly well. Like Andy Hamilton noting his playfulness: “The extraordinary mix of purpose, precision and imagination enabled him to develop arguments with total conviction, and yet be joyfully funny.” Or Sandi Toksvig remembering that Hardy heckled her wedding.

It was all a bit too much Boris. Because he’s a character in the sense it would be better if he were fictional.

I don’t remember when I first discovered Hardy, but I’ve been a fan of his work for a long time. I bought the audiobook of a bunch of his “Speaks the Nation” radio show. I was always pleased when he was a guest on the News Quiz, or Sorry I Haven’t A Clue. I never met him, I’m not even 100% sure I ever saw him at one of the many radio recordings I went to, but his passing hit me surprisingly hard.

I don’t get to say this often, but this book genuinely had me laughing out loud. Highly recommended.

Blog

Range

I’m biased. As Mulder did, I want to believe. Except, I want to believe that being a generalist can work. And that’s what “Range,” by David Epstein, claims. It’s subtitle is, “How generalists triumph in a specialised world.”

It’s not a challenging read. There is a lot of anecdata, examples of people who took a broad path and still succeeded. In that sense, maybe it’s like “Quiet,” which is about introverts. It doesn’t tell you how to succeed, only that it’s possible and that you’re not alone. Maybe that’s enough?

In that sense, it’s not a game changer for me. But there are some good lines in it, some scenarios that I could relate to. For example, I like this:

As education pioneer John Dewey put it in Logic, The Theory of Inquiry, “a problem well put is half-solved.”

This is absolutely my experience. The process of asking a well formed question often leads to the answer. I have started asking questions on Stack Overflow countless times but I’ve asked only twenty-one questions in the fourteen years I’ve been on the site.

I also like this, which I read as an argument for diverse teams.

“When all members of the laboratory have the same knowledge at their disposal, then when a problem arises, a group of similar minded individuals will not provide more information to make analogies than a single individual,” Dunbar concluded.

It’s no good to have a team where you have a lone genius and a bunch of grunts. It’s much better to have a team of differently smart people who can learn from each other; I can “trade” my deeper knowledge in one area for your experience in another. It seems that it’s not just good for the individuals but for the team, and possible society as a whole, too.

I come across this a lot:

The best forecasters view their own ideas as hypothesis in need of testing. Their aim is not to convince their teammates of their own expertise, but to encourage their teammates to help them falsify their own notions.

I share some half-formed theory or idea, with the expectation that other people find the holes and tell me how much of an idiot I am. I am then surprised when people take them as a finished item and run with them.

Generalists … believe employers will view their varied background as a liability, so they downplay it.

And this is certainly me. Employers are almost always looking for a very specific list of requirements and often see detours in an unfavourable light. I found that including my iPhone development activities on my CV sometimes worked against me, for example.

I’ve started to “own” my background much more recently. It becomes self-selecting. The companies that don’t value that extra experience won’t want to hire me, but nor would I want to work for them. A win for us both.

Back to the book. In the end, it’s a fine but not an essential read.

Opinion

History

A few years ago I had a job where every new recruit would go through a long process of shock and gradual acclimatisation to the main software product.

What it did doesn’t matter as much as how it was built: it was an application developed on top of a proprietary programming language and user interface designer. The reaction was always the same. Why? Why?! Why would you reinvent Visual Basic on Unix? Why would you inflict a programming language even worse than Basic on developers?1

The answer, it turns out, is that the original developers were idiots.

No, of course that’s not true. But if that’s the case, then why did almost every developer start from that point of view when they first arrived at the company?

That brings us to Twitter and its new owner. One of his first public proclamations is to declare that there are too many micro-services running, and, worse, most of do nothing useful! The reply-guys all agree and, between them, argue that it’s entirely possible to rebuild Twitter from the ground-up in weeks, possibly even a weekend if given enough pizza and Blue Bottle.

Were the original developers of Twitter also idiots?

I don’t know as much about Twitter’s architecture, but I’d be willing to bet that, no, they were also not stupid.

If it’s not the original developers, what does it say about the critic? It says that they see the complexity but not the nuance. They see the current state but they do not see any of the decisions that lead up the current system. They see complexity, but without understanding the whole problem domain they don’t see why that complexity exists.

In the case of my job, the software predated Visual Basic, which is a pretty good reason for not using it. It also had to work on Unix and be editable on client sites without extra tooling. By the time I worked there, it may have been dated but it was in production at many clients. It worked. Sure, it’s not how you’d architect it now but the decisions that led to the design did make sense.

If it’s dated, then why not rewrite it? That has been covered many times before, but the short answer is that when you design it, you focus so much on the clean, new solution that you forget why you added the warts to the old system. The layers upon layers of fixes and enhancements represent real world experience. Those micro-services are there for a reason. Not understanding the reason doesn’t change that2.

This is not an argument against evolving the software, only that you should understand what you already have. Sometimes rewriting can be justified. Rationalising a bunch of micro-services isn’t always a ridiculous idea. But there’s an important difference between complex and complicated. Can you know which your inherited system is after a few days on the job?

  1. It was a stack-based language, along the lines of Forth and Postscript. Long time users could do amazing things with tiny amounts of code. I never quite got there. ↩︎

  2. Logical fallacy: argument from incredulity. ↩︎