The value is in the difficulty - Annotations
We’ve seen this arc before, and music is the richest analogy.
Like Bruce Sterling always says:
Whatever happens to musicians happens to everybody.
We’ve seen this arc before, and music is the richest analogy.
Like Bruce Sterling always says:
Whatever happens to musicians happens to everybody.
People talk about the effectiveness (or lack thereof) of large language models as though all tasks are comparable. But it strikes me that there are three broad categories of work that large language models are applied to:
Compression is when you feed a large language model something big that you want to make small. Summarise this book. Give me the gist of this meeting. Large language models are generally pretty good at this, which makes sense given that they themselves are kind of like compressed artifacts.
Transformation is when large language models convert from one format into another. Turn this audio into text. Turn this jumble of data into structured JSON. A large language model can handle these tasks pretty well. There’ll probably be a few errors so make sure that’s not a deal-breaker.
Expansion is when you give a large language model a prompt to generate something from scratch. An image. A presentation. An email. A poem. This is where slop lives. The output inevitably betrays its origins, glistening with a sheen of mediocrity.
Laurie spotted this three-way split a while back:
Is what you’re doing taking a large amount of text and asking the LLM to convert it into a smaller amount of text? Then it’s probably going to be great at it. If you’re asking it to convert into a roughly equal amount of text it will be so-so. If you’re asking it to create more text than you gave it, forget about it.
I hope that when the bubble finally bursts, we’ll see the surviving large language models put to work on the first two categories. The boring stuff. The work that’s tedious for humans.
But tedious is as tedious does. Something I consider drudgery might be the very thing that gives you life. Like Giles says:
I have a feeling that everyone likes using AI tools to try doing someone else’s profession. They’re much less keen when someone else uses it for their profession.
The big exception seems to be programming. Apparently there are plenty of coders who never before expressed an interest in being managers who are now happily hanging up their coding spurs in favour being the overseer of non-human workers.
It’s a reasonable outlook. It could even be considered a user-centred approach. Users don’t care about the elegance of your code; they care about accomplishing their tasks.
Programming is something of an exception to the efficacy of large language models in general. Instead of relying on the subjectivity of painting, poetry, or prose, programming can be objectively tested. Throw enough money at the worst people in the world and they’ll give you tokens you can use to get the machines to test their own output. So you can get a large language model to create something reasonably good from scratch as long as that something is code.
If you had asked me about the threat model of large language models two years ago, I probably would’ve been worried for artists, writers, and musicians. I thought that software had enough inherent complexity to be relatively safe.
Now my opinion has completely reversed. Software is almost certainly the killer app for large language models.
I think the artists, writers, and musicians will be okay, or at least as okay as they ever were. It turns out that humans like things made by other humans.
And y’know what? If I had to choose which endeavour I’d rather see automated away—programming or art—it’s no competition.
Don’t get me wrong—it would be nice if everyone got paid for doing what they enjoy. It’s just that I’m okay with software engineers not being at the front of that line.
I remember when I first started getting paid money to make websites. “Really?” I thought, “Someone is willing to pay me to do something I’d do anyway?” I kept waiting for the jig to be up. Instead I saw my profession grow and expand.
Perhaps there’s a long-overdue compression happening.
Or maybe it’s more like a transformation.
There’s a fundamental problem with these tools beyond the capacity of any deployment strategy to solve: the tool requires expertise to validate, but its use diminishes expertise and stunts its growth. How does one become an expert? There are no shortcuts; there is only continuous hard work and dedication. I was once told of writing, great writers learn how to break the rules in new and ingenious ways by first learning the rules.
But how is a new developer meant to learn the rules if their day-to-day work is nothing but the babysitting of models? How will they gain the hard-won experience that allows a human in the loop to be a useful safeguard?
These models alter cognition in ways deleterious to human prosperity. In other words, for as much output as they provide, they take something important from us.
I mean, I would ask for the country first (because not all countries have zip/postal codes), but the point stands…
You can’t write a compelling narrative about the thing you didn’t build. Nobody gets promoted for the complexity they avoided.
Complexity looks smart. Not because it is, but because our systems are set up to reward it.
Anyone can add complexity. It takes experience and confidence to leave it out.
If you wanted to make a really crude approximation of project management, you could say there are two main styles: waterfall and agile.
It’s not as simple as that by any means. And the two aren’t really separate things; agile came about as a response to the failures of waterfall. But if we’re going to stick with crude approximations, here we go:
So crude! Much approximation!
It only recently struck me that the agile approach is basically a cybernetic system.
Cybernetics is pretty much anything that involves feedback. If it’s got inputs and outputs that are connected in some way, it’s probably cybernetic. Politics. Finance. Your YouTube recommendations. Every video game you’ve ever played. You. Every living thing on the planet. That’s cybernetics.
Fun fact: early on in the history of cybernetics, a bunch of folks wanted to get together at an event to geek about this stuff. But they knew that if they used the word “cybernetics” to describe the event, Norbert Wiener would show up and completely dominate proceedings. So they invented a new alias for the same thing. They coined the term “artificial intelligence”, or AI for short.
Yes, ironically the term “AI” was invented in order to repel a Reply Guy. Now it’s Reply Guy catnip. In today’s AI world, everyone’s a Norbert Wiener.
The thing that has the Wieners really excited right now in the world of programming is the idea of agentic AI. In this set-up, you don’t do any of the actual coding. Instead you specify everything up front and then have a team of artificial agents execute your plan.
That’s right; it’s a return to waterfall. But that’s not as crazy as it sounds. Waterfall was wasteful because execution was expensive and time-consuming. Now that execution is relatively cheap (you pay a bit of money to line the pockets of the worst people in exchange for literal tokens), you can afford to throw some spaghetti at the wall and see if it sticks.
But you lose the learning. The idea of a cybernetic system like, say, agile development, is that you try something, learn from it, and adjust accordingly. You remember what worked. You remember what didn’t. That’s learning.
Outsourcing execution to machines makes a lot of sense.
I’m not so sure it makes sense to outsource learning.
Large language models help you build the thing faster, which is the primary end goal for your company but only sometimes for you. My primary goal might be to build the thing faster, but it also might be to learn something durably, to enjoy the work, to look forward to Monday.
I don’t like the mental fragility of not fully understanding how my own code works, where AI-generated code is “mine” in that it’s attributed to me in the git blame and I’m its maintainer going forward.
You know my thoughts on generative tools based on large language models, but this example of personal empowerment is undeniably liberating.
I’ve had a lot of people recently tell me AI is “inevitable.” That this is “the future” and “we all better get used to it.”
For the last decade, I’ve had a lot of people tell me the same thing about React.
And over that decade of React being “the future” and “inevitable,” I worked on many, many projects without it. I’ve built a thriving career.
AI feels like that in many ways. It also feels different in that non-technical people also won’t shut the fuck about it.
We value learning. We value the merits of language design, type systems, software maintenance, levels of abstraction, and yeah, if I’m honest, minute syntactical differences, the color of the bike shed, and the best way to get that perfectly smooth shave on a yak. I’m not sure what we’re called now, “heirloom programmers”?
Do I sound like a machine code programmer in the 1950s refusing to learn structured programming and compiled languages? I reject that comparison. I love a beautiful abstraction just as much as I love a good low-level trick.
If the problem is that we’ve painted our development environments into a corner that requires tons of boilerplate, then that is the problem. We should have been chopping the cruft away and replacing it with deterministic abstractions like we’ve always done. That’s what that Larry Wall quote about good programmers being lazy was about. It did not mean that we would be okay with pulling a damn slot machine lever a couple times to generate the boilerplate.
My social networks are currently awash with Deep Blue:
…the sense of psychological ennui leading into existential dread that many software developers are feeling thanks to the encroachment of generative AI into their field of work.
The issue isn’t with the code itself, but with the understanding of the code.
That’s the difference between technical debt and cognitive debt.
There are two wolves inside you…
My Builder side won’t let me just sit and think about unsolved problems, and my Thinker side is starving while I vibe-code. I am not sure if there will ever be a time again when both needs can be met at once.
Generated code is rather a lot like fast fashion: it looks all right at first glance but it doesn’t hold up over time, and when you look closer it’s full of holes. Just like fast fashion, it’s often ripped off other people’s designs. And it’s a scourge on the environment.
I’ve seen so many times how 10 lines of code can end up being worth £millions, and 10,000 ends up being worthless.
A fascinating talk looking at the history of the intersection of knitting and stitching with wartime cryptography and resistance.
This is depressing.
The hard part of computer programming isn’t expressing what we want the machine to do in code. The hard part is turning human thinking – with all its wooliness and ambiguity and contradictions – into computational thinking that is logically precise and unambiguous, and that can then be expressed formally in the syntax of a programming language.
That was the hard part when programmers were punching holes in cards. It was the hard part when they were typing COBOL code. It was the hard part when they were bringing Visual Basic GUIs to life (presumably to track the killer’s IP address). And it’s the hard part when they’re prompting language models to predict plausible-looking Python.
The hard part has always been – and likely will continue to be for many years to come – knowing exactly what to ask for.
AI has the Jeopardy Phenomenon too.
If you use it to generate code that is outside your expertise, you are likely to think it’s all well and good, especially if it seems to work at first pop. But if you’re intimately familiar with the technology or the code around the code it’s generating, there is a good chance you’ll be like hey! that’s not quite right!
Not just code. I’m astounded by the cognitive dissonance displayed by people who say “I asked an LLM about {topic I’m familiar with}, and here’s all the things it got wrong” who then proceed to say “It was really useful when I asked an LLM for advice on {topic I’m not familiar with, hence why I’m asking an LLM for advice}.”
Like, if you know that the results are super dodgy for your own area of expertise, why would you think they’d be any better for, I don’t know, restaurant recommendations in a city you’ve never been to?
’80s BASIC type-in mags are back, but this time for HTML!
10 wonderful web apps, including games, toys, puzzles and utilities
No coding knowledge needed, you just type