Bertrand Meyer's technology+ blog

Picture yourself an incoming education minister in one of the EU countries — Germany, France, UK — who declares that he would like fewer students to graduate and go to university. Imagine the clamor. Even in the US  — where the secretary of education does not in fact have much sway over high schools, managed locally, or universities, controlled by the states or by private organizations — outrage would erupt. Assume for good measure that he criticizes immigrants for pushing their children to educate themselves. Pretty unthinkable.

Johann Schneider-Ammann will be education minister of Switzerland starting in 2013. (The seeming innocuousness of this factual statement belies the uniqueness of the situation: rather than ministries in the usual sense, Switzerland has federal departments, and their management rotates among the seven Federal Counselors — as does, yearly, the presidency of the Confederation. But that topic is for another day.) In a recent interview [1], Schneider-Ammann states that it would be a grave danger to allow any further growth of the percentage of students graduating with the high-school degree, the “Maturity” or  in common parlance Matura (equivalent to the German Abitur and the French Baccalauréat). What is this scary threshold? The graduation rate (France: 84.5%) has in Switzerland grown in the past years from 12% to a whopping 20%. This is where the minister wants to raise a red flag.

Not stopping there, he bitterly complains that immigrant families “want their children to get a Matura at any price”. These immigrant’s conceit has no bound! Can you fathom the insolence: they want to educate their kids!

Were such declarations to come from Mr. Schneider-Ammann’s French counterpart, the streets of Paris would fill up with pitchfork-brandishing youngsters. In the US, no one would even understand the part about immigrants: walk the halls of Berkeley or Stanford and it’s Asians everywhere, since childhood pushed to excellence by their “Chinese mothers” [2] or equivalent.

What is going on? Has Switzerland put in charge of its education the equivalent of (in the US) the would-be Republican candidate Rick Santorum, who infamously proclaimed that “President Obama wants everybody in America to go to college. What a snob!”.

Well, to a point, yes. But Schneider-Ammann, an ETH graduate in electrical engineering, is not an obscurantist and not driven by religious extremism. What he is talking about is the uniqueness of the Swiss educational system, which includes a separation of students at the age of 12 between those who will pursue the Matura, leading to open admission to almost any university program [3], and those channeled to technical tracks with reduced teaching hours and extensive on-the-job training. That system explains the 20% figure: it is not that the other 80% are left to rot; most of them receive a job-oriented qualification and a technical degree. Anyone who has tried to use the services of a plumber in the United States and in Switzerland understands the effect of this system on the quality of professional work (and its price).

Schneider-Ammann (along with, in my experience, most education professionals in Switzerland) has no qualms about defending that system. He says:

Every society is a kind of pyramid with, at the top, the most intellectual people and those with the most predisposition to education, and a wide base made of people with essentially manual skills. We have to include these in our education system as well. This is the only way to remain competitive and innovative and keep everyone, to all the extent possible, in the employment process.

In many circles such an unabated view would be howled down as elitist and paternalistic. The Swiss, however, have little interest in the kind of abstract arguments that are popular among French and German intellectuals. They are pragmatic and look at the results. Schneider-Ammann is not shy in pointing the fingers at other countries:

The more high-shool graduates a country has, the higher its unemployment rate. The relationship is obvious when one looks at the statistics. Highfalutin education plays its part in deindustrialisation. We can see it in Great Britain or France.

The views on immigrants are in the same spirit. Think not of mathematically brilliant Asian students forcefully entering computer science at MIT, but of children of families — for example, as Schneider-Ammann  helpfully explains lest anyone fear ambiguity, “from Germany or France”— which “come to Switzerland and from the experience of their country of origin know hardly anything else than the academic road to education”. Ah, these German mothers who know “hardly anything else” than universities! These French fathers who do not wake up at night worrying whether their daughters will make it to tram driver!

These arguments will, one guesses, make for interesting conversations when he does become minister and gets to meet his foreign colleagues, but they are hard to ignore. What do the statistics actually say?

From OECD documents, e.g. [4], I do not completely understand the British picture (not much of a comment since there are few things I understand about Britain). In  France, where reaching a 80% rate of success at the Baccalauréat was a decades-old political goal and a cause for national celebration when reached a few years ago, the unemployment  is currently 9.5% and shows no sign of abating (that is an optimistic way of putting it). Significantly, high unemployment  is not a fluke resulting from the current  economic crisis but a persistent problem going back at least to the eighties and clearly resulting from structural causes. In Germany, for all its economic strength, the rate is hardly better, having oscillated between 9% and 11% between 2002 and 2007 and remaining around 7% in 2012.

In Switzerland: 3% today, and never above 4% since 2001. (In early 2001 it was around 1.6%!) As to the educational level of the population, the OECD notes [3] that  Switzerland is a top-performing OECD country in reading literacy, maths and sciences with the average student scoring 517.

Correlation is not causation; politicians simplify complex matters, and one can think of a few counter-examples to Mr. Schneider-Ammann’s reasoning (I would like to get a better idea of the Finnish picture, and Korea also seems an interesting case). Still, that reasoning has to be taken seriously. Anyone familiar with the French situation, for example, can only wonder what good it is to give everyone the Bac and access to overcrowded university tracks of sociology, ethnography and psychology. How many ethnographers does a country need? Since the world is selective, selection occurs anyway, if after the  Bac, and most notably in controlling access to the noblest part of the system — the top of Schneider-Ammann’s pyramid: the Grandes Écoles, which are unabashedly elitist. Families in the know understand that the competitive examinations to Polytechnique and the like, not the Bac, are the exams that count. This part of the system, the royal track, works very well; I had the immense privilege of benefiting from it and can testify to its efficiency. It is at least as exclusive as the Swiss Matura+University track. The problem is the rest of the system; those students who do not make it to the top are somehow herded to the Bac and the first years of ordinary universities without the appropriate support and infrastructure.

Thereby lies the difference: the Swiss have no patience for grand speeches about high education, the implicit promise that everyone can become Jean-Paul Sartre or Simone de Beauvoir, and the harsh accompanying reality of a system that hides cruel disparities behind the appearance of universal access. Instead, they bluntly sort out at a tender age [5] the few intellectuals from the many practically-oriented students. The big difference with some other countries is that the latter category is neither duped nor dumped: neither duped into believing they can have an high-flying university education, nor dumped to mend for themselves. The technical and apprenticeship programs are are seriously organized, well-funded, and intended to lead to stable, respected professions.

So far the system has worked incredibly well; the durably low unemployment rate, in sharp contrast with neighboring countries, is only one sign of the country’s success. I do not know how much of the correlation is causation, and how much the Swiss experience is transposable to other countries.

As an intellectual, and someone who gained so much from education in peerless institutions, I do not feel in a good position to decree that others should just learn a trade.  But I find the argument fascinating. The conventional wisdom today is that countries must educate, educate, educate. Usually this is understood as pushing ever more students towards academic tracks. There are a few dissenting voices; Paul Krugman, for example, has regularly warned that automation today threatens low-end intellectual jobs (he comes back to that theme in today’s New York Times [5]). I do not know the answer; but the questions are worth asking, without fear of breaking taboos.

References and notes

[1] «Ich hätte lieber etwas weniger, dafür bessere Maturanden» (I’d rather have somewhat fewer and hence better high-school graduates), interview of Johann Schneider-Ammann (in German),  by René Donzé and Sarah Nowotny, Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 28 October 2012, available here.

[2] Amy Chua, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, Penguin Press, 2011, see summary here.

[3] Law and medicine have a numerus clausus. Students graduating with a Matura can otherwise enter the university and program of their choice.

[4] OECD Better Life index, here. Note that the OECD reports give Switzerland a high-school graduation rate of 90%, at the very top of countries surveyed, meaning that the rate does not distinguish between the various kinds of high-school certificates. High-school graduation rates as discussed in the present article refer to the standard academic tracks, which for Switzerland means the Matura not including professional tracks.

[5] Migration paths exist, for hard-working late bloomers who want to transition from the lower-tier system to the universities.

[6] Paul Krugman: Robots and Robber Barons, New York Times, 9 December 2012, available here.

Program verification is making considerable progress but is hampered by a lack of abstraction in specifications. A crucial step is, almost always, absent from the process; this omission is the principal obstacle to making verification a standard component of everyday software development.

1. Steps in software verification

In the first few minutes of any introduction to program verification, you will be told that the task requires two artifacts: a program, and a specification. The program describes what executions will do; the specification, what they are supposed to do. To verify software is to ascertain that the program matches the specification: that it does is what it should.

The consequence usually drawn is that verification consists of three steps: write a specification, write a program, prove that the program satisfies the specification. The practical process is of course messier, if only because the first two steps may occur in the reverse order and, more generally, all three steps are often intertwined: the specification and the program influence each other, in particular through the introduction of “verification conditions” into the program; and initial proof attempts will often lead to changes in both the specification and the program. But by and large these are the three accepted steps.

Such a description misses a fourth step, a prerequisite to specification that is essential to a scalable verification process: Domain Theory. Any program addresses a specific domain of discourse, be it the domain of network access and communication for a mobile phone system, the domain of air travel for a flight control system, of companies and shares for a stock exchange system and so on. Even simple programs with a limited scope, such as the computation of the maximum of an array, use a specific domain beyond elementary mathematics. In this example, it is the domain of arrays, with their specific properties: an array has a range, a minimum and maximum indexes in that range, an associated sequence of values; we may define a slice a [i..j], ask for the value associated with a given index, replace an element at a given index and so on. The Domain Theory provides a formal model for any such domain, with the appropriate mathematical operations and their properties. In the example the operations are the ones just mentioned, and the properties will include the axiom that if we replace an element at a certain index i with a value v then access the element at an index j, the value we get is v if i = j, and otherwise the earlier value at j.

2. The role of a Domain Theory

The task of devising a Domain Theory is to describe such a domain of reference, in the spirit of abstract data types: by listing the applicable operations and their properties. If we do not treat this task as a separate step, we end up with the kind of specification that works for toy examples but quickly becomes unmanageable for real-life applications. Most of the verification literature, unfortunately, relies on such specifications. They lack abstraction since they keep using the lowest-level mathematical objects and constructs, such as numbers and quantified expressions. They are to specification what assembly language is to modern programming.

Dines Bjørner has for a long time advocated a closely related idea, domain engineering; see for example his book in progress [1]. Unfortunately, he does not take advantage of modularization through abstract data types; the book is an example of always-back-to-the-basics specification, resorting time and again to fully explicit specifications based on a small number of mathematical primitives, and as a consequence making formal specification look difficult.

3. Maximum computed from both ends

As a simple example of modeling through an abstract theory consider an algorithm for computing the maximum of an array. We could use the standard technique that goes through the array one-way, but for variety let us take the algorithm that works from both ends, moving two integer cursors towards each other until they meet.  (This example was used in a verification competition at a recent conference, I forgot which one.) The code looks like this:

The specification, expressed by the postcondition (ensure) should state that Result is the maximum of the array; the loop invariant will be closely related to it. How do we express these properties? The obvious way is not the right way. It states the postcondition as something like

∀ k: Z | (k ≥ a.lower ∧ k ≤ a.upper) ⇒ a [k] ≤ Result

∃ k: Z | k ≥ a.lower ∧ k ≤ a.upper ∧ a [k] = Result

In words, Result is at least as large as every element of the array, and is equal to at least one of the elements of the array. The invariant can also be expressed in this style (try it).

The preceding specification expresses the desired property, but it is of an outrageously lower level than called for. The notion of maximum is a general one for arrays over an ordered type. It can be computed through many different algorithms in addition to the one shown above, and exists independently of these algorithms. The detailed, assembly-language-like definition of its properties should not have to be repeated in every case. It should be part of the Domain Theory for the underlying notion, arrays.

4. A specification at the right level of abstraction

In a Domain Theory for arrays of elements from an ordered set, one of the principal operations is maximum, satisfying the above properties. The definition of maximum through these properties belongs at the Domain Theory level. The Domain Theory should include that definition, independent of any particular computational technique such as two_way_max. Then the routine’s postcondition, relying on this notion from the Domain Theory, becomes simply

Result = a.maximum

The application of this approach to the loop invariant is particularly interesting. If you tried to write it at the lowest level, as suggested above, you should have produced something like this:

a.lower ≤ i ≤ j ≤ a.upper

∃ k: Z | k ≥ i ∧ k ≤ j ∧ (∀ l: Z | l ≥ a.lower ∧ l ≤ a.upper ⇒ a [l] ≤ a [k])

The first clause is appropriate but the rest is horrible! With its nested quantified expressions it gives an impression of great complexity for a property that is in fact straightforward, simple enough in fact to be explained to a 10-year-old: the maximum of the entire array can be found between indexes i and j. In other words, it is also the maximum of the array slice going from i to j. The Domain Theory will define the notion of slice and enable us to express the invariant as just

a.lower ≤ i ≤ j ≤ a.upper — This bounding clause remains

a.maximum = (a [i..j ]).maximum

(where we will write the slice a [i..j ] as a.slice (i, j ) if we do not have mechanisms for defining special syntax). To verify the routine becomes trivial: on loop exit the invariant still holds and i = j, so the maximum of the entire array is given by the maximum of the single-element slice a [i..i ], which is the value of its single element a [i ]. This last property — the maximum of a single-element array is its single value — is independent of the verification of any particular program and should be proved as a little theorem of the Domain Theory for arrays.

The comparison between the two versions is striking: without Domain Theory, we are back to the most tedious mathematical manipulations again and again; simple, clear properties look complicated and obscure. This just for a small example on basic data structures; now think what it will be for a complex application domain. Without a first step of formal modeling to develop a Domain Theory, no realistic specification and verification process is realistic.

Although the idea is illustrated here through examples of individual routines, the construction of a Domain Theory should usually occur, in an object-oriented development process, at the level of a class: the embodiment of an abstract data type, which is at the appropriate level of granularity. The theory applies to objects of a given type, and hence will be used for the verification of all operations of that type. This observation justifies the effort of devising a Domain Theory, since it will benefit a whole set of software elements.

5. Components of a Domain Theory

The Domain Theory should include the three ingredients illustrated in the example:

• Operations, modeled as mathematical functions (no side effects of course, we are in the world of specification).
• Axioms characterizing the defining properties of these operations.
• Theorems, characterizing other important properties.

This approach is of course nothing else than abstract data types (the same thing, although few people realize it, as object-oriented analysis). Even though ADTs are a widely popularized notion, supported for example by tools such as CafeOBJ [2] and Maude [3], it is generally not taken to its full conclusions; in particular there is too often a tendency to define every new ADT from scratch, rather than building up libraries of reusable high-level mathematical components in the O-O spirit of reuse.

6. Results, not just definitions

In devising a Domain Theory with the three kinds of ingredient listed above, we should not forget the last one, the theorems! The most depressing characteristic of much of the work on formal specification is that it is long on definitions and short on results, while good mathematics is supposed to be the reverse. I think people who have seriously looked at formal methods and do not adopt them are turned off not so much by the need to use mathematics but by the impression they get little value for it.

That is why Eiffel contracts do get adopted: even if it’s just for testing and debugging, people see immediate returns. It suffices for a programmer to have caught one bug as the violation of a simple postcondition to be convinced for life and lose any initial math-phobia.

7. Quantifiers are evil

As we go beyond simple contract properties — this argument must be positive, this reference will not be void — the math needs to be at the same level of abstraction to which, as modern programmers, we are accustomed. For example, one should always be wary of program specifications relying directly on quantified expressions, as in the low-level variants of the postcondition and loop invariant of the two_way_max routine.

This is not just a matter of taste, as in the choice in logic [4] between lambda expressions (more low-level but also more immediately understandable) and combinators (more abstract but, for many, more abstruse). We are talking here about the fundamental software engineering problem of scalability; more generally, of the understandability, extendibility and reusability of programs, and the same criteria for their specification and verification. Quantifiers are of course needed to express fundamental properties of a structure but in general should not directly appear in program assertions: as the example illustrated, their level of abstraction is lower than the level of discourse of a modern object-oriented program. If the rule — Quantifiers Considered Harmful — is not absolute, it must be pretty close.

Quantified expressions, “All elements of this structure possess this property” and “Some element of this structure possesses this property” — belong in the description of the structure and not in the program. They should appear in the Domain Theory, not in the verification. If you want to express that a hash table search found an element of key K, you should not write

(Result = Void ∧ (∀ i: Z | i ≥ a.lower ∧ i ≤ a.upper ⇒ a.item (i).key ≠ K))
∨
(Result ≠ Void ∧ (∀ i: Z | i ≥ a.lower ∧ i ≤ a.upper ∧ a.item (i).key = K ∧ Result = a.item (i))

but

Result /= Void   ⇔   (Result ∈ a.elements_of_key (K))

The quantified expressions will appear in the Domain Theory for the corresponding structure, in the definition of such domain properties as elements_of_key. Then the program’s specification — the contracts to be verified — can rely on concepts that make sense to the programmer; the verification will take advantage of theorems that have been proved independently since they belong to the Domain Theory and do not depend on individual programs.

8. Even the simplest examples…

Practical software verification requires Domain Theory even in the simplest cases, including those often used as purely academic examples. Perhaps the most common (and convenient) way to explain the notion of loop invariant is Euclid’s algorithm to compute the greatest common divisor (gcd) of two numbers (with a structure remarkably similar to that of two_way_max):

I have expressed the postcondition using a concept from an assumed Domain Theory for the underlying problem: gcd, the mathematical function that yields the greatest common divisor of two integers. Many specifications I have seen go back to the basics, with something like this (using \\ for integer remainder):

a \\ Result = 0 ∧ b \\ Result = 0 ∧  ∀ i: N | (a \\ i = 0) ∧ (b \\ i = 0) ⇒  i ≤ Result

This is indeed the definition of what it means for Result to be the gcd of a and b (it divides a, it divides b, and is greater than any other integer that also has these two properties). But it makes no sense to include such a detailed mathematical property in the specification of a program element. It belongs in the domain theory, where it will serve as the definition of a function gcd, which we can then use directly in the specification of the program.

Note how the invariant makes the necessity of the Domain Theory approach even more clear: try to express it in the basic mathematical form, not using the function gcd, It can be done, but the result is typical of the high complexity to usefulness ratio of traditional formal specifications mentioned above. Instead, the invariant that I have included in the program text above says exactly what there is to say, clearly and concisely: at each iteration, the gcd of our two temporary values, i and j, is the result that we are seeking, the gcd of the original values a and b. On exit from the loop, when i and j are equal, their common value is that result.

It is also thanks to the Domain Theory modeling that the verification of the program — consisting of proving that the stated property is indeed invariant — will be so simple: as part of the theory, we should have the two little theorems

i > j > 0 ⇒ gcd (i, j) = gcd (i –j, j)
gcd (i, i) = i

which immediately show the implementation to be correct.

Inside of any big, fat, messy, quantifier-ridden specification there is a simple, elegant and clear Domain-Theory-based specification desperately trying to get out. Find it and use it.

9. From Domain Theory to domain library

One of the reasons most people working on program verification have not used the division into levels of discourse described here, with a clear role for developing a Domain Theory, is that they lack the appropriate notational support. Mathematical notation is of course available, but we are talking about programs a general verification framework cannot resort to a new special notation for every new application domain.

This is one of the places where Eiffel provides a consistent solution, through its seamless approach to integrating programs and specifications in a single notation. Thanks to mechanisms such as deferred classes (classes that describe concepts through detailed specifications without committing to an implementation), Eiffel is as much for specification as for design and implementation; a Domain Theory can be expressed though a set of deferred Eiffel classes, which we may call a domain library. The classes in a domain library should not just be deferred, meaning devoid of implementation; they should in addition describe stateless operations only — queries, not commands — since they are modeling purely mathematical concepts.

An earlier article in this blog [5] outlined the context of our verification work: the EVE project (Eiffel Verification Environment), a practical approach to integrating software verification in the day-to-day practice of modern software development, with the slogan ““Verification As a Matter Of Course”. In this project we have applied the idea of Domain Theory by building a domain library covering fundamental concepts of set theory, including functions and relations. This is the Mathematical Model Library (MML) [6, 7], which we use to verify the new data structure library EiffelBase 2 using specifications at the appropriate level of abstraction.

MML is in fact useful for the specification of a wide variety of programs, since almost every application area can benefit from the general concepts of set, subset, relation and such. But to cover a specific application domain, say flight traffic control, MML will generally not suffice; you will need to devise a Domain Theory that mathematically models the target domain, and may express it in the form of a domain library written in the same general spirit as MML: all deferred, stateless, focused on high-level abstractions.

It is one of the attractions of Eiffel that you can express such a theory and library in the same notation as the programs that will use it — more precisely in a subset of that notation, since the specification classes do not need the imperative constructs of the language such as instructions and attributes. Then both the development process and the verification use a seamlessly integrated set of notations and techniques, and all use the same tools from a modern IDE, in our case EiffelStudio, for browsing, editing, working with graphical repreentation, metrics etc.

10. DSL libraries for specifications

A mechanism to express Domain Theories is to a general specification mechanism essentially like a Domain Specific Language (DSL) is to a general programming language: a specialization for a particular domain. Domain libraries make the approach practical by:

• Embedding the specification language in the programming language.
• Fundamentally relying on reuse, in the best spirit of object technology.

This approach is in line with the one I presented for handling DSLs in an earlier article of this blog [8] (thanks, by the way, for the many comments received, some of them posted here and some on Facebook and LinkedIn where the post triggered long discussions). It is usually a bad idea to invent a new language for a new application domain. A better solution is to rely on libraries, by taking advantage of the power of object-oriented mechanisms to model (in domain libraries) and implement (for DSLs) the defining features of such a domain, and to make the result widely reusable. The resulting libraries are purely descriptive in the case of a domain library expressing a Domain Theory, and directly usable by programs in the case of a library embodying a DSL, but the goal is the same.

11. A sound and necessary engineering practice

Many ideas superficially look similar to Domain Theory: domain engineering as mentioned above, “domain analysis” as widely discussed in the requirements literature, model-driven development, abstract data type specification… They all start from some of the same observations, but  Domain Theory as described in this article is something different: a systematic approach to modeling an arbitrary application domain mathematically, which:

• Describes the concepts through applicable operations, axioms and (most importantly) theorems.
• Expresses these elements in an applicative (side-effect free, i.e. equivalent to pure mathematics) subset of the programming language, for direct embedding in program specifications.
• Relies on the class mechanism to structure the results.
• Collects the specifications into specification libraries and promotes the reuse of specifications in the same way we promote software reuse.
• Uses the combination of these techniques to ensure that program specifications are at a high level of abstraction, compatible with the programmers’ view of their software.
• Promotes a clear and effective verification process.

The core idea is in line with standard engineering practices in disciplines other than software: to build a bridge, a car or a chip you need first to develop a sound model of the future system and its environment, using any useful models developed previously rather than always going back to elementary textbook mathematics.

It seems in fact easier to justify doing Domain Analysis than to justify not doing it. The power of expression and abstraction of our programs has grown by leaps and bounds; it’s time for our specifications to catch up.

References

[1] Dines Bjørner: From Domains to Requirements —The Triptych Approach to Software Engineering, “to be submitted to Springer”, available here.

[2] Kokichi Futatsugi and others: CafeObj page, here.

[3] José Meseguer and others: Maude publication page, here.

[4] J. Roger Hindley, J. P. Seldin: Introduction to Combinators and l-calculus, Cambridge University Press, 1986.

[5] Verification As a Matter Of Course, earlier article on this blog (March 2010), available here.

[6] Bernd Schoeller, Tobias Widmer and Bertrand Meyer. Making specifications complete through models, in Architecting Systems with Trustworthy Components, eds. Ralf Reussner, Judith Stafford and Clemens Szyperski, Lecture Notes in Computer Science, Springer-Verlag, 2006, pages 48-70, available here.

[7] Nadia Polikarpova, Carlo A. Furia and Bertrand Meyer: Specifying Reusable Components, in VSTTE’10: Verified Software: Theories, Tools and Experiments, Edinburgh, August 2010, Lecture Notes in Computer Science, Springer-Verlag, available here.

[8] Never Design a Language, earlier article on this blog (January 2012), available here.

Workshop proposals are invited for TOOLS 2012, “The Triumph of Objects” tools.ethz.ch, to be held in Prague May 28 to June 1. TOOLS is a federated set of conferences:

• TOOLS EUROPE 2012: 50th International Conference on Objects, Models, Components, Patterns.
• ICMT 2012: 5th International Conference on Model Transformation.
• Software Composition 2012: 10th International Conference.
• TAP 2012: 6th International Conference on Tests And Proofs.
• MSEPT 2012: International Conference on Multicore Software Engineering, Performance, and Tools.

Workshops, which are normally one- or two-day long, provide organizers and participants with an opportunity to exchange opinions, advance ideas, and discuss preliminary results on current topics. The focus can be on in-depth research topics related to the themes of the TOOLS conferences, on best practices, on applications and industrial issues, or on some combination of these.

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

Submission proposal implies the organizers’ commitment to organize and lead the workshop personally if it is accepted. The proposal should include:

•  Workshop title.
• Names and short bio of organizers .
• Proposed duration.
•  Summary of the topics, goals and contents (guideline: 500 words).
•  Brief description of the audience and community to which the workshop is targeted.
• Plans for publication if any.
• Tentative Call for Papers.

Acceptance criteria are:

• Organizers’ track record and ability to lead a successful workshop.
•  Potential to advance the state of the art.
• Relevance of topics and contents to the topics of the TOOLS federated conferences.
•  Timeliness and interest to a sufficiently large community.

Please send the proposals to me (Bertrand.Meyer AT inf.ethz.ch), with a Subject header including the words “TOOLS WORKSHOP“. Feel free to contact me if you have any question.

DATES

•  Workshop proposal submission deadline: 17 February 2012.
• Notification of acceptance or rejection: as promptly as possible and no later than February 24.
• Workshops: 28 May to 1 June 2012.

Ever more people are realizing that concurrency is at the center of IT challenges for the next decades. Concurrent programming remains as hard as ever; we have put together a one-day seminar that helps understand the concepts and build successful concurrent applications. The sessions for the first few months of 2012 are:

• Palo Alto (February 15)
• Zurich, (March 2)
• London (March 22)
• Paris (May 10)
• Stockholm (June 15)
• Seattle (July 20)

and the seminar program is available here.

John McCarthy, who died last week at the age of 84, was one of the true giants of computer science. Most remarkable about his contributions are their diversity, their depth, and how they span both theory and practice.

To talk about him it is necessary first to dispel an unjustly negative connotation. McCarthy was one of the founders of the discipline of artificial intelligence, its most forceful advocate and the inventor of its very name. In the “AI Winter” episode of the late 1970s and 1980s, that name suffered some disrepute as a result of a scathing report by James Lighthill blaming AI researchers for over-promising. In fact the promoters of AI may not have delivered exactly what they announced (who can accurately predict science?); but what they delivered is astounding. Many breakthroughs in computer science, both in theory (advances in lambda calculus and the theory of computation) and in the practice of programming (garbage collection, functional programming languages), can directly be traced to work in AI. Part of the problem is a phenomenon that I heard John McCarthy himself describe:  “As soon as it works, no one calls it AI any more.” Automatic garbage collection was once advanced artificial intelligence; now it is just an algorithm that makes sure your smartphone does not freeze up. In a different field, we have become used to computers routinely beating chess champions, a feat that critics of AI once deemed unthinkable.

The worst over-promises came not from researchers in the field such as McCarthy, who understood the difficulties, but from people like Herbert Simon, more of a philosopher, who in 1965 wrote that “machines will be capable, within twenty years, of doing any work a man can do.” McCarthy’s own best-known over-promise was to take up David Levy on his 1968 bet that no computer would be able to beat him within ten years. But McCarthy was only mistaken in under-estimating the time span: Deep Blue eventually proved him right.

The word that comes most naturally to mind when thinking about McCarthy is “brilliant.” He belonged to that category of scientists who produce the fundamental insights before anyone else, even if they do not always have the patience to finalize the details. The breathtaking paper that introduced Lisp [1] is labeled “Part 1”; there was never a “Part 2.” (Of course we have a celebrated example in computer science, this one from a famously meticulous author, of a seven-volume treaty which never materialized in full.) It was imprudent to announce a second part, but the first was enough to create a whole new school of programming. The Lisp 1.5 manual [2], published in 1962, was another masterpiece; as early as page 13 it introduces — an unbelievable feat, especially considering that the program takes hardly more than half a page — an interpreter for the language being defined, written in that very language! The more recent reader can only experience here the kind of visceral, poignant and inextinguishable jealously that overwhelms us the first time we realize that we will never be able to attend the première of Don Giovanni at the Estates Theater in Prague on 29 October, 1787 (exactly 224 years ago yesterday — did you remember to celebrate?). What may have been the reaction of someone in “Data Processing,” such as it was in 1962, suddenly coming across such a language manual?

These years, 1959-1963, will remain as McCarthy’s Anni Mirabiles. 1961 and 1962 saw the publication of two visionary papers [3, 4] which started the road to modern program verification (and where with the benefit of hindsight it seems that he came remarkably close to denotational semantics). In [4] he wrote

Instead of debugging a program, one should prove that it meets its specifications, and this proof should be checked by a computer program. For this to be possible, formal systems are required in which it is easy to write proofs. There is a good prospect of doing this, because we can require the computer to do much more work in checking each step than a human is willing to do. Therefore, the steps can be bigger than with present formal systems.

Words both precise and prophetic. The conclusion of [3] reads:

It is reasonable to hope that the relationship between computation and mathematical logic will be as fruitful in the next century as that between analysis and physics in the last. The development of this relationship demands a concern for both applications and for mathematical elegance.

“A concern for both applications and mathematical elegance” is an apt characterization of McCarthy’s own work. When he was not busy designing Lisp, inventing the notion of meta-circular interpreter and developing the mathematical basis of programming, he was building the Lisp garbage collector and proposing the concept of time-sharing. He also played, again in the same period, a significant role in another milestone development, Algol 60 — yet another sign of his intellectual openness and versatility, since Algol is (in spite of the presence of recursion, which McCarthy championed) an imperative language at the antipodes of Lisp.

McCarthy was in the 1960s and 70s the head of the Artificial Intelligence Laboratory at Stanford. For some reason the Stanford AI Lab has not become as legendary as Xerox PARC, but it was also the home to early versions of  revolutionary technologies that have now become commonplace. Email, which hardly anyone outside of the community had heard about, was already the normal way of communicating, whether with a coworker next door or with a researcher at MIT; the Internet was taken for granted; everyone was using graphical displays and full-screen user interfaces; outside, robots were playing volley-ball (not very successfully, it must be said); the vending machines took no coins, but you entered your login name and received a bill at the end of the month, a setup which never failed to astonish visitors; papers were printed with sophisticated fonts on a laser printer (I remember a whole group reading the successive pages of Marvin Minsky’s  frames paper [5] directly on the lab’s XGP, Xerox Graphics Printer, as  they were coming out, one by one, straight from MIT). Arthur Samuel was perfecting his checkers program. Those who were not programming in Lisp were hooked to SAIL, “Stanford Artificial Intelligence Language,” an amazing design which among other insights convinced me once and for all that one cannot seriously deal with data structures without the benefit of an automatic serialization mechanism. The building itself, improbably set up amid the pastures of the Santa Cruz foothills, was razed in the eighties and the lab moved to the main campus, but the spirit of these early years lives on.

McCarthy ran the laboratory in an open and almost debonair way; he was a legend and somewhat intimidating, but never arrogant and in fact remarkably approachable. I took the Lisp course from him; in my second or third week at Stanford, I raised my hand and with the unflappable assurance of the fully ignorant slowly asked a long question: “In all the recursive function definitions that you have shown so far, termination was obvious because there is some ‘n’ that decreases for every recursive call, and we treat the case ‘n = 0’ or ‘n = 1’ in a special, non-recursive way. But things won’t always be so simple. Is there some kind of grammatical criterion on Lisp programs that we could use to ascertain whether a recursive definition will always lead to a terminating computation?” There was a collective gasp from the older graduate students in the audience, amazed that a greenhorn would have the audacity to interrupt the course with such an incompetent query. But instead of dismissing me, McCarthy proceeded, with a smile, to explain the basics of undecidability. He had the same attitude in the many seminars that he taught, often on topics straddling computer science and philosophy, in a Socratic style where every opinion was welcome and no one was above criticism.

He also had a facetious side. At the end of a talk by McCarthy at SRI, Tony Hoare, who was visiting for a few days, asked a question; McCarthy immediately rejoined that he had expected that question, summoned to the stage a guitar-carrying researcher from the AI Lab, and proceeded with the answer in the form of a prepared song.

The progress of science and technology is a collective effort; it takes many people to turn new insights into everyday reality. The insights themselves come from a few individuals, a handful in every generation. McCarthy was one of these undisputed pioneers.

References

[1] John McCarthy: Recursive Functions of Symbolic Expressions and Their Computation by Machine, Part I, in Communications of the ACM, vol. 3, no. 4, 1960, pages 184-195.

[2] John McCarthy, Paul W. Abrahams, Daniel J. Edwards, Timothy P. Hart, Michael I. Levin, LISP 1.5 Programmer’s Manual, MIT, 1962. Available at Amazon  and also as a PDF .

[3] John McCarthy: A Basis for a Mathematical Theory of Computation, first version in Proc. Western Joint Computer Conference, 1961, revised version in Computer Programming and Formal Systems, eds. P. Braffort and D. Hirschberg, North Holland, 1963. Available in various places on the Web, e.g. here .

[4] John McCarthy: Towards a Mathematical Science of Computation, in IFIP Congress 1962, pages 21-28, available in various places on the Web, e.g. here .

[5] Marvin Minsky:  A Framework for Representing Knowledge, MIT-AI Laboratory Memo 306, June 1974, available here .

(This article was first published on my ACM blog.  I am resuming regular Monday publication.)

It was a bit imprudent last Monday to announce the continuation of the SCOOP discussion for this week; with the TOOLS conference happening now, with many satellite events such as the Eiffel Design Feast of the past week-end and today’s “New Eiffel Technology Community” workshop, there is not enough time for a full article. Next week might also be problematic. The SCOOP series will resume, but in the meantime I will report on other matters.

As something that can be conveniently typed in while sitting in the back of the TOOLS room during fascinating presentations, here is a bit of publicity for the next round of one-day seminars for industry — “Compact Course” is the official terminology — that I will be teaching at ETH in Zurich next November (one in October), some of them with colleagues. It’s the most extensive session that we have ever done; you can see the full programs and registration information here.

• Software Engineering for Outsourced and Distributed Development, 27 October 2011
  Taught with Peter Kolb and Martin Nordio

• Requirements Engineering, 17 November

• Software Testing and Verification: state of the art, 18 November
  With Carlo Furia and Sebastian Nanz

• Agile Methods: the Good, the Bad and the Ugly, 23 November

• Concepts and Constructs of Concurrent Computation, 24 November
  With Sebastian Nanz

• Design by Contract, 25 November

The agile methods course is new; its summary reads almost like a little blog article, so here it is.

Agile methods: the Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Agile methods are wonderful. They’ll give you software in no time at all, turn your customers and users into friends, catch bugs before they catch you, change the world, and boost your love life. Do you believe these claims (even excluding the last two)? It’s really difficult to form an informed opinion, since most of the presentations of eXtreme Programming and other agile practices are intended to promote them (and the consultants to whom they provide a living), not to deliver an objective assessment.

If you are looking for a guru-style initiation to the agile religion, this is not the course for you. What it does is to describe in detail the corpus of techniques covered by the “agile” umbrella (so that you can apply them effectively to your developments), and assess their contribution to software engineering. It is neither “for” nor “against” agile methods but fundamentally descriptive, pedagogical, objective and practical. The truth is that agile methods include some demonstrably good ideas along with some whose benefits are at best dubious. In addition (and this should not be a surprise) they cannot make the fundamental laws of software engineering go away.

Agile methods have now been around for more than a decade, during which many research teams, applying proven methods of experimental science, have performed credible empirical studies of how well the methods really work and how they compare to more traditional software engineering practices. This important body of research results, although not widely known, is critical to managers and developers in industry for deciding whether and how to use agile development. The course surveys these results, emphasizing the ones most directly relevant to practitioners.

A short discussion session will enable participants with experience in agile methods to share their results.

Taking this course will give you a strong understanding of agile development, and a clear view of when, where and how to apply them.

Schedule

Morning session: A presentation of agile methods

• eXtreme Programming, pair programming, Scrum, Test-Driven Development, continuous integration, refactoring, stakeholder involvement, feature-driven development etc.
• The agile lifecycle.
• Variants: lean programming etc.

Afternoon session (I): Assessment of agile methods

• The empirical software engineering literature: review of available studies. Assessment of their value. Principles of empirical software engineering.
• Agile methods under the scrutiny of empirical research: what helps, what harms, and what has no effect? How do agile methods fare against traditional techniques?
• Examples: pair programming versus code reviews; tests versus specifications; iterative development versus “Big Upfront Everything”.

Afternoon session (II): Discussion and conclusion

This final part of the course will present, after a discussion session involving participants with experience in agile methods, a summary of the contribution of agile methods to software engineering.

It will conclude with advice for organizations involved in software development and interested in applying agile methods in their own environment.

Target groups

CIOs; software project leaders; software developers; software testers and QA engineers.

EiffelStudio 6.8, released last month, contains the first official implementation of the SCOOP programming model for concurrent programming. This is an important milestone; let me try to explain why.

Concurrency challenging us

Concurrency is the principal stumbling block in the progress of programming. Do not take just my word for it:

• Intel: “Multi-core processing is taking the industry on a fast-moving and exciting ride into profoundly new territory. The defining paradigm in computing performance has shifted inexorably from raw clock speed to parallel operations and energy efficiency” [1].
• Rick Rashid (head of Microsoft Research):  “Multicore processors represent one of the largest technology transitions in the computing industry today, with deep implications for how we develop software.” [2].
• Bill Gates: “Multicore: This is the one which will have the biggest impact on us. We have never had a problem to solve like this. A breakthrough is needed in how applications are done on multicore devices.” [3]
• David Patterson: “Industry has basically thrown a Hail Mary. The whole industry is betting on parallel computing. They’ve thrown it, but the big problem is catching it.” [4]
• Gordon Bell: “I’m skeptical until I see something that gives me some hope…  the machines are here and we haven’t got it right.” [4].

What has happened? Concurrency  used to be a highly specialized domain of interest to a small minority of programmers building operating systems and networking systems and database engines. Just about everyone else could live comfortably pretending that the world was sequential. And then suddenly we all need to be aware of concurrency. The principal reason is the end of Moore’s law as we know it [5].

This chart show that we can no longer rely on the automatic and regular improvement to our programs’ performance, roughly by a factor of two every two years, thanks to faster chips. The free lunch is over; continued performance increases require taking advantage of concurrency, in particular through multithreading.

Performance is not the only reason for getting into concurrency. Another one is user convenience: ever since the first browser showed that one could write an email and load a Web page in the same window, users have been clamoring for multithreaded applications. Yet another source of concurrency requirements is the need to produce Internet and Web applications.

How do programmers write these applications? The almost universal answer relies on threading mechanisms, typically offered through some combination of language and library mechanisms: Java Threads, .NET threading, POSIX threads, EiffelThreads. The underlying techniques are semaphores and mutexes: nineteen-sixties vintage concepts, rife with risks of data races (access conflicts to a variable or resource, leading to crashes or incorrect computations) and deadlocks (where the system hangs). These risks are worse than the classical bugs of sequential programs because they are very difficult to detect through testing.

Ways to tame the beast

Because the need is so critical, the race is on — a “frantic” race in the words of a memorable New York Times article by John Markoff [4] — to devise a modern programming framework that will bring concurrent programming under control. SCOOP is a contender in this battle. In this post and the next I will try to explain why we think it is exactly what the world needs to tame concurrency.

The usual view, from which SCOOP departs, is that concurrent programming is intrinsically hard and requires a fundamental change in the way programmers think. Indeed some of the other approaches that have attracted attention imply radical departures from accepted programming paradigm:

• Concurrency calculi such as CSP [6, 7], CCS [8] and the π-Calculus [9] define  high-level mathematical frameworks addressing concurrency, but they are very far from the practical concerns of programmers. An even more serious problem is that they focus on only some aspects of programming, but being concurrent is only one property of a program, among many others (needing a database, relying on graphical user interface, using certain data structures, perform certain computations…). We need mechanisms that integrate concurrency with all the other mechanisms that a program uses.
• Functional programming languages have also offered interesting idioms for concurrency, taking advantage of the non-imperative nature of functional programming. Advocacy papers have argued for Haskell [10 and Erlang [11] in this role. But should the world renounce other advances of modern software engineering, in particular object-oriented programming, for the sake of these mechanisms? Few people are prepared to take that step, and (as I have discussed in a detailed article [12]) the advantages of functional programming are counter-balanced by the superiority of the object-oriented model in its support for the modular construction of realistic systems.

What if we did not have to throw away everything and relearn programming from the ground up for concurrency? What if we could retain the benefits of five decades of software progress, as crystallized in modern object-oriented programming? This is the conjecture behind SCOOP: that we can benefit from all the techniques we have learned to make our software reliable, extendible and reusable, and add concurrency to the picture in an incremental way.

From sequential to concurrent

A detailed presentation of SCOOP will be for next Monday, but let me give you a hint and I hope whet your appetite by describing how to move a typical example from sequential to concurrent. Here is a routine for transferring money between two accounts:

transfer (amount: INTEGER ; source, target: ACCOUNT)
               -- Transfer amount dollars from source to target.
        require
               enough: source·balance >= amount
        do
         source·withdraw (amount)
         target·deposit (amount)
        ensure
               removed: source·balance = old source·balance – amount
               added: target·balance = old target·balance + amount
        end

The caller must satisfy the precondition, requiring the source account to have enough money to withdraw the requested amount; the postcondition states that the source account will then be debited, and the target account credited, by that amount.

Now assume that we naïvely apply this routine in a concurrent context, with concurrent calls

        if acc1·balance >= 100 then transfer (acc1, acc2, 100) end

and

        if acc1·balance >= 100 then transfer (acc1, acc3, 100) end

If the original balance on acc1 is 100, it would be perfectly possible in the absence of a proper concurrency mechanism that both calls, as they reach the test acc1·balance >= 100, find the property to be true and proceed to do the transfer — but incorrectly since they cannot both happen without bringing the balance of acc1 below zero, a situation that the precondition of transfer and the tests were precisely designed to rule out. This is the classic data race. To avoid it in the traditional approaches, you need complicated and error-prone applications of semaphores or conditional critical regions (the latter with their “wait-and-signal” mechanism, just as clumsy and low-level as the operations on semaphores).

In SCOOP, such data races, and data races of any other kind, cannot occur. If the various objects involved are to run in separate threads of control, the declaration of the routine will be of the form

transfer (amount: INTEGER ; source, target: separate ACCOUNT)
               -- The rest of the routine exactly as before.

where separate is the only specific language keyword of SCOOP. This addition of the separate marker does the trick. will result in the following behavior:

• Every call to transfer is guaranteed exclusive access to both separate arguments (the two accounts).
• This simultaneous reservation of multiple objects (a particularly tricky task when programmers must take care of it through their own programs, as they must in traditional approaches) is automatically guaranteed by the SCOOP scheduler. The calls wait as needed.
• As a consequence, the conditional instructions (if … then… ) are no longer needed. Just call transfer and rely on SCOOP to do the synchronization and guarantee correctness.
• As part of this correctness guarantee, the calls may have to wait until the preconditions hold, in other words until there is enough money on the account.

This is the desired behavior in the transition from sequential to concurrent. It is achieved here not by peppering the code with low-level concurrent operations, not by moving to a completely different programming scheme, but by simply declaring which objects are “separate” (potentially running elsewhere.

The idea of SCOOP is indeed that we reuse all that we have come to enjoy in modern object-oriented programming, and simply declare what needs to be parallel, expecting things to work (“principle of least surprise”).

This is not how most of the world sees concurrency. It’s supposed to be hard. Indeed it is; very hard, in fact. But the view of the people who built SCOOP is that as much of the difficulty should be for the implementers. Hence the title of this article: for programmers, concurrency should be easy. And we think SCOOP demonstrates that it can be.

SCOOP in practice

A few words of caution: we are not saying that SCOOP as provided in EiffelStudio 6.8 is the last word. (Otherwise it would be called 7.0.) In fact, precisely because implementation is very hard, a number of details are still not properly handled; for example, as discussed in recent exchanges on the EiffelStudio user group [13], just printing out the contents of a separate string is non-trivial. We are working to provide all the machinery that will make everything work well, the ambitious goals and the practical details. But the basics of the mechanism are there, with a solid implementation designed to scale properly for large applications and in distributed settings.

In next week’s article I will describe in a bit more detail what makes up the SCOOP mechanisms. To get a preview, you are welcome to look at the documentation [14, 15]; I hope it will convince you that despite what everyone else says concurrent programming can be easy.

References

[1] Official Intel statement, see e.g. here.

[2] Rich Rashid, Microsoft Faculty Summit, 2008.

[3] This statement was cited at the Microsoft Faculty Summit in 2008 and is part of the official transcript; hence it can be assumed to be authentic, although I do not know the original source.

[4] Patterson and Bell citations from John Markoff, Faster Chips Are Leaving Programmers in Their Dust, New York Times, 17 December 2007, available here.

[5] The chart is from the course material of Tryggve Fossum at the LASER summer school in 2008.

[6] C.A.R. Hoare: em>Communicating Sequential Processes, Prentice Hall, 1985, also available online.

[7] Bill Roscoe: The Theory and Practice of Concurrency, revised edition, Prentice Hall, 2005, also available online.

[8] Robin Milner: Communication and Concurrency, Prentice Hall, 1989.

[9] Robin Milner: Communicating and Mobile Systems: The π-calculus, Cambridge University Press, 1999.

[10] Simon Peyton-Jones: Beautiful Concurrency, in Beautiful Code, ed. Greg Wilson, O’Reilly, 2007, also available online.

[11] Joe Armstrong: Erlang, in Communications of the ACM, vol. 53, no. 9, September 2010, pages 68-75.

[12] Bertrand Meyer: Software Architecture: Functional vs. Object-Oriented Design, in Beautiful Architecture, eds. Diomidis Spinellis and Georgios Gousios, O’Reilly, 2009, pages 315-348, available online.

[13] EiffelStudio user group; see here for a link to current discussions and to join the group.

[14] SCOOP project documentation at ETH, available here.

By describing a  poorly conceived hypothetical experiment, last week’s article described the “Professor Smith syndrome” consisting of four risks that threaten the validity of empirical software engineering experiments relying on students in a course:

• Professor Smith Risk 1: possible bias if the evaluator has a stake in the ideas or tools under assessment.
• Professor Smith Risk 2: creating different levels of motivation in the different groups (Hawthorne effect).
• Professor Smith Risk 3: extrapolating from students to professionals.
• Professor Smith Risk 4: violation of educational ethics if the experiment may cause some students to learn better than others.

If you have developed a great new method or tool and would like to assess it, the best way to address Risk 1 is to find someone else to do the assessment. What if  this solution is not practical? Recently we wanted to get some empirical evidence on the merits of the SCOOP (Simple Concurrent Object-Oriented Programming) approach to concurrency [1, 2], on which I have worked for a long time and which is now part of EiffelStudio since the release of 6.8 a couple of weeks ago. We wanted to see if, despite the Professor Smith risks, we could do a credible study ourselves.

The ETH Software Architecture course[3], into which we introduced some introductory material on concurrency last year (as part of a general effort to push more concurrency into software courses at ETH), looked like a good place to try an evaluation; it is a second-year course, where students, or so we thought, would have little prior experience in concurrent software design.

The study’s authors — Sebastian Nanz, Faraz Torshizi and Michela Pedroni — paid special attention to the methodological issues. To judge for yourself whether we addressed them properly, you can read the current version of our paper to be presented at ESEM 2011 [4]. Do note that it is a draft and that we will improve the paper for final publication.

Here is some of what we did. I will not address the Professor Smith Risk 3, the use of students, which (as Lionel Briand has pointed out in a comment on the previous article) published work has studied; in a later article I will give  references to some of that work. But we were determined to tackle the other risks explicitly, so as to obtain credible results.

The basic experiment was a session in which the students were exposed to two different design methods for concurrent software: multithreaded programming in Java, which I’ll call “Java Threads”, and SCOOP. We wanted to explore whether it is easier to program in SCOOP than in Java. This is too general a hypothesis, so it was refined into three concrete hypotheses: is it easier to understand a SCOOP program? Is it easier to find errors in SCOOP programs? Do programmers using SCOOP make fewer errors?

A first step towards reducing the effect — Professor Smith Risk 1 — of any emotional attachment of the experimenters  to one of the approaches, SCOOP in our case, was to generalize the study. Although what directly interested us was to compare SCOOP against Java Threads, we designed the study as a general scheme to compare concurrency approaches; SCOOP and Java Threads are just an illustration, but anyone else interested in assessing concurrency techniques — say Erlang versus C# concurrency — can apply the same methodology. This decision had two benefits: it freed the study from dependency on the particular techniques, hence, we hope, reducing bias; and as side attraction of the kind that is hard for researchers to resist, it increased the publishability of the results.

Circumstances unexpectedly afforded us another protection against any for-SCOOP bias: unbeknownst to us at the time of the study’s design, a first-year course had newly added (in 2009, whereas our study was performed in 2010) an introduction to concurrent programming — using Java Threads! While we had thought that concurrency in any form would be new to most students, in fact almost all of them had now seen Java Threads before. (The new material in the first-year course was taken by ETH students only, but many transfer students had also already had an exposure to Java Threads.) On the other hand, students had not had any prior introduction to SCOOP. So any advantage that one of the approaches may have had because of students’ prior experience would work against our hypotheses. This unexpected development would not help if the study’s results heavily favored Java Threads, but if they favored SCOOP it would reinforce their credibility.

A particular pedagogical decision was made regarding the teaching of our concurrency material: it started with a self-study rather than a traditional lecture. One of the reasons for this decision was purely pedagogical: we felt (and the course evaluations confirmed) that at that stage of the semester the students would enjoy a break in the rhythm of the course. But another reason was to avoid any bias that might have arisen from any difference in the lecturers’ levels of enthusiasm and effectiveness in teaching the two approaches. In the first course session devoted to concurrency, students were handed study materials presenting Java Threads and SCOOP and containing a test to be taken; the study’s results are entirely based on their answers to these tests. The second session was a traditional lecture presenting both approaches again and comparing them. The purpose of this lecture was to make sure the students got the full picture with the benefit of a teacher’s verbal explanations.

The study material was written carefully and with a tone as descriptive and neutral as possible. To make comparisons meaningful, it does not follow a structure specific to Java Threads or  SCOOP  (as we might have used had we taught only one of these approaches); instead it relies in both cases on the same overall plan  (figure 2 of the paper), based on a neutral analysis of concurrency concepts and issues: threads, mutual exclusion, deadlock etc. Each section then presents, for one such general concurrency question, the solution proposed by Java Threads or SCOOP.

This self-study material, as well as everything else about the study, is freely available on the Web; see the paper for the links.

In the self-study, all students studied both the Java Threads and SCOOP materials. They were randomly assigned to two groups, for which the only difference was the order of studying the approaches. We feel that this decision addresses the ethical issue (Professor Smith Risk 4): any pedagogical effect of reading about A before B rather than the reverse, in the course of a few hours, has to be minimal if you end up reading about the two of them, and on the next day follow a lecture that also covers both.

Having all students study both approaches — a crossover approach in the terminology of [5] — should also address the Hawthorne effect (Professor Smith Risk 2): students have no particular incentive to feel that one of the approaches is more hip than the other. While they are not told that SCOOP is partly the work of the instructors, some of them may know or guess this information; the consequences, positive or negative, are limited, since they are asked in both cases to do as well as they can in answering the assessment questions.

The design of that evaluation is another crucial element in trying to avoid bias. We tried, to the extent possible, to base the assessment on objective criteria. For the first hypothesis (program understanding) the technique was to ask the students to predict the output of some simple concurrent programs. To address the risk of a binary correct/incorrect assessment, and get a more fine-grained view, we devised the programs so that they would produce output strings and measured the Levenshtein (edit) distance to the correct result. For the second hypothesis (ease of program debugging), we gave students programs exhibiting typical errors in both approaches and asked them to tell us both the line number of any error they found and an explanation. Assessing the explanation required human analysis; the idea of also assigning partial credit for pointing out a line number without providing a good explanation is that it may be meaningful that a student found that something is amiss even without being quite able to define what it is. The procedure for the third hypothesis (producing programs with fewer errors) was more complex and required two passes over the result; it requires some human analysis, as you will see in the article, but we hope that the two-pass process removes any bias.

This description of the study is only partial and you should read the article [4] for the full details of the procedure.

So what did we find in the end? Does SCOOP really makes concurrency easier to learn, concurrent programs easier to debug, and concurrent programmers less error-prone? Here too  I will refer you to the article. Let me simply mention that the results held some surprises.

In obtaining these results we tried very hard to address the Professor Smith syndrome and its four risks. Since all of our materials, procedures and data are publicly accessible, described in some detail in the paper, you can determine for yourself how well we met this objective, and whether it is possible to perform credible assessments even of one’s own work.

References

Further reading: for general guidelines on how to conduct empirical research see [5]; for ethical guidelines, applied to psychological research but generalizable, see [6].

[1] SCOOP Eiffel documentation, available here.

[2] SCOOP project documentation at ETH, available here.

[3] Software Architecture course at ETH, course page (2011).

[4] Sebastian Nanz, Faraz Torshizi, Michela Pedroni and Bertrand Meyer: Design of an Empirical Study for Comparing the Usability of Concurrent Programming Languages, to appear in ESEM 2011 (ACM/IEEE International Symposium on Empirical Software Engineering and Measurement), 22-23 September 2011. Draft available here.

[5] Barbara A. Kitchenham, Shari L. Pfleeger, Lesley M. Pickard, Peter W. Jones, David C. Hoaglin, Khaled El-Emam and Jarrett Rosenberg: Preliminary Guidelines for Empirical Research in Software Engineering, national Research Council Canada (NRC-CNRC), Report ERB-1082, 2001, available here.

[6] Robert Rosenthal: Science and ethics in conducting, analyzing, and reporting psychological research, in  Psychological Science, 5, 1994, p127-134. I found a copy cached by a search engine here.

This week we step away from our usual sources of quotations — the Hoares and Dijkstras and Knuths — in favor an author who might seem like an unlikely inspiration for a technology blog: Stendhal. A scientist may like anyone else be fascinated by Balzac, Flaubert, Tolstoy or Dostoevsky, but they live in an entirely different realm; Stendhal is the mathematician’s novelist. Not particularly through the themes of his works (as could be the case with  Borges or Eco), but because of their clear structure and elegant style,  impeccable in its conciseness and razor-like in its precision. Undoubtedly his writing was shaped by his initial education; he prepared for the entrance exam of the then very young École Polytechnique, although at the last moment he yielded instead to the call of the clarion.

The scientific way of thinking was not just an influence on his writing; he understood the principles of scientific reasoning and knew how to explain them. Witness the following text, which explains just about as well as anything I know the importance of abstraction. In software engineering (see for example [1]), abstraction is the key talent, a talent of a paradoxical nature: the basic ideas take a few minutes to explain, and a lifetime to master. In this effort, going back to the childhood memories of Henri Beyle (Stendhal’s real name) is not a bad start.

Stendhal’s Life of Henri Brulard is an autobiography, with only the thinnest of disguises into a novel (compare the hero’s name with the author’s). In telling the story of his morose childhood in Grenoble, the narrator grumbles about the incompetence of his first mathematics teacher, a Mr. Dupuy, who taught mathematics “as a set of recipes to make vinegar” (comme une suite de recettes pour faire du vinaigre) and tells how his father found a slightly better one, Mr. Chabert. Here is the rest of the story, already cited in [2]. The translation is mine; you can read the original below, as well as a German version. Instead of stacks and circles  — or a university’s commencement day, see last week’s posting — the examples invoke eggs and cheese, but wouldn’t you agree that this paragraph is as good a definition of abstraction, directly applicable to software abstractions, and specifically to abstract data types and object abstractions (yes, it does discuss “objects”!), as any other?

So I went to see Mr. Chabert. Mr. Chabert was indeed less ignorant than Mr. Dupuy. Through him I discovered Euler and his problems on the number of eggs that a peasant woman brings to the market where a scoundrel steals a fifth of them, then she leaves behind the entire half of the remainder and so forth. This opened my mind, I glimpsed what it means to use the tool called algebra. I’ll be damned if anyone had ever explained it to me; endlessly Mr. Dupuy spun pompous sentences on the topic, but never did he say this one simple thing: it is a division of labor, and like every division of labor it creates wonders by allowing the mind to concentrate all its forces on just one side of objects, on just one of their qualities. What difference it would have made if Mr. Dupuy had told us: This cheese is soft or is it hard; it is white, it is blue; it is old, it is young; it is mine, it is yours; it is light or it is heavy. Of so many qualities, let us only consider the weight. Whatever that weight is, let us call it A. And now, no longer thinking of cheese, let us apply to A everything we know about quantities. Such a simple thing; and yet no one was explaining it to us in that far-away province [3]. Since that time, however, the influence of the École Polytechnique and Lagrange’s ideas may have trickled down to the provinces.

References

[1] Jeff Kramer: Is abstraction the key to computing?, in Communications of The ACM, vol. 50, 2007, pages 36-42.
[2] Bertrand Meyer and Claude Baudoin: Méthodes de Programmation, Eyrolles, 1978, third edition, 1982.
[3] No doubt readers from Grenoble, site of great universities and specifically one of the shrines of French computer science, will appreciate how Stendhal calls it  “that backwater” (cette province reculée).

Original French text

J’allai donc chez M. Chabert. M. Chabert était dans le fait moins ignare que M. Dupuy. Je trouvai chez lui Euler et ses problèmes sur le nombre d’œufs qu’une paysanne apportait au marché lorsqu’un méchant lui en vole un cinquième, puis elle laisse toute la moitié du reste, etc., etc. Cela m’ouvrit l’esprit, j’entrevis ce que c’était que se servir de l’instrument nommé algèbre. Du diable si personne me l’avait jamais dit ; sans cesse M. Dupuy faisait des phrases emphatiques sur ce sujet, mais jamais ce mot simple : c’est une division du travail qui produit des prodiges comme toutes les divisions du travail et permet à l’esprit de réunir toutes ses forces sur un seul côté des objets, sur une seule de leurs qualités. Quelle différence pour nous si M. Dupuy nous eût dit : Ce fromage est mou ou il est dur ; il est blanc, il est bleu ; il est vieux, il est jeune ; il est à moi, il est à toi ; il est léger ou il est lourd. De tant de qualités ne considérons absolument que le poids. Quel que soit ce poids, appelons-le A. Maintenant, sans plus penser absolument au fromage, appliquons à A tout ce que nous savons des quantités. Cette chose si simple, personne ne nous la disait dans cette province reculée ; depuis cette époque, l’École polytechnique et les idées de Lagrange auront reflué vers la province.

German translation (by Benjamin Morandi)

Deshalb ging ich zu Herrn Chabert. In der Tat war Herr Chabert weniger ignorant als Herr Dupuy. Bei ihm fand ich Euler und seine Probleme über die Zahl von Eiern, die eine Bäuerin zum Markt brachte, als ein Schurke ihr ein Fünftel stahl, sie dann die Hälfte des Restes hinterliest u.s.w. Es hat mir die Augen geöffnet. Ich sah was es bedeutet, das Algebra genannte Werkzeug zu benutzen. Unaufhörlich machte Herr Dupuy emphatische Sätze über dieses Thema, aber niemals dieses einfache Wort: Es ist eine Arbeitsteilung, die wie alle Arbeitsteilungen Wunder herstellt und dem Geist ermöglicht seine Kraft ganz auf eine einzige Seite von Objekten zu konzentrieren, auf eine Einzige ihrer Qualitäten. Welch Unterschied für uns, wenn uns Herr Dupuy gesagt hätte: Dieser Käse ist weich oder er ist hart; er ist weiss, er ist blau; er ist alt, er ist jung; er gehört dir, er gehört mir; er ist leicht oder er ist schwer. Bei so vielen Qualitäten betrachten wir unbedingt nur das Gewicht. Was dieses Gewicht auch sei, nennen wir es A. Jetzt, ohne unbedingt weiterhin an Käse denken zu wollen, wenden wir auf A alles an, was wir über Mengen wissen. Diese einfach Sache sagte uns niemand in dieser zurückgezogenen Provinz; von dieser Epoche an werden die École Polytechnique und die Ideen von Lagrange in die Provinz zurückgeflossen sein.

There may be no more blatant example of  the disconnect between the software engineering community and the practice of programming than the lack of widespread recognition for the fundamental role of loop invariants. 

Let’s recall the basics, as they are taught in the fourth week or so of the ETH introductory programming course [1], from the very moment the course introduces loops. A loop is a mechanism to compute a result by successive approximations. To describe the current approximation, there is a loop invariant. The invariant must be:

1. Weak enough that we can easily ensure it on a subset, possibly trivial, of our data set. (“Easily” means than this task is substantially easier than the full problem we are trying to solve.)
2. Versatile enough that if it holds on some subset of the data we can easily (in the same sense) make it hold on a larger subset — even if only slightly larger.
3. Strong enough that, when it covers the entire data, it yields the result we seek.

As a simple example, assume we seek the maximum of an array a of numbers, indexed from 1. The invariant states that Result is the maximum of the array slice from 1 to i. Indeed:

1. We can trivially obtain the invariant by setting Result to be a [1]. (It is then the maximum of the slice a [1..1].)
2. If the invariant holds, we can extend it to a slightly larger slice — larger by just one element — by increasing i by 1 and updating Result to be the greater of the previous Result and the element a [i] (for the new  i).
3. When the slice covers the entire array — that is, i = n — the invariant tells us that Result is the maximum of the slice a [1..n], giving us the result we seek.

You cannot understand the corresponding program text

    from
        i := 1; Result := a [1]
    until i = n loop
        i := i + 1
        if Result < a [i] then Result := a [i] end
    end

without understanding the loop invariant. That is true even of people who have never heard the term: they will somehow form a mental image of the intermediate situation that justifies the algorithm. With the formal notion, the reasoning becomes precise and checkable. The difference is the same as between a builder who has no notion of theory, and one who has learned the laws of mechanics and construction engineering.

As another example, take Levenshtein distance (also known as edit distance). It is the shortest sequence of operations (insert, delete or replace a character) that will transform a string into another. The algorithm (a form of dynamic programming) fills in a matrix top to bottom and left to right, each entry being one plus the maximum of the three neighboring ones to the top and left, except if the corresponding characters in the strings are the same, in which case it keeps the top-left neighbor’s value. The basic operation in the loop body reads

      if source [i] = target [j] then
           dist [i, j] := dist [i -1, j -1]
      else
           dist [i, j] := min (dist [i, j-1], dist [i-1, j-1], dist [i-1, j]) + 1
      end

You can run this and see it work, filling the array cell after cell, then delivering the result at (dist [M, N] (the bottom-right entry, M and i being the lengths of the source and target strings. Or just watch the animation on page 60 of [2]. It works, but why it works remains a total mystery until someone tells you the invariant:

Every value of dist filled so far is the minimum distance from the initial substrings of the source, containing characters at position 1 to p, to the initial substring of the target, positions 1 to q.

This is the rationale for the above code: we want to compute the next value, at position [i, j]; if the corresponding characters in the source and target are the same, no operation is needed to extend the result we had in the top-left neighbor (position [i-1, j-1]); if not, the best we can do is the minimum we can get by extending the results obtained for our three neighbors: through the insertion of source [i] if the minimum comes from the neighbor to the left, [i-1, j]; through the deletion of target [j] if it comes from the neighbor above; or through a replacement if from the top-left neighbor.

With this explanation, a mysterious, almost hermetic algorithm instantly becomes crystal-clear. 

Yet another example is in-place linked list reversal. The body of the loop is a pointer ballet:

temp := previous
previous := next
next := next.right
previous.put_right (temp)

with proper initialization (set next to the value of first and previous to Void) and finalization (set first to the value of previous). This is not the only possible implementation, but all variants of the algorithm use a very similar scheme.

The code looks again pretty abstruse, and hard to get right if you do not remember it exactly. As in the other examples, the only way to understand it is to see the invariant, describing the intermediate assumption after a typical loop iteration. If the original situation was this:

List reversal: initial state

then after a few iterations the algorithm yields this intermediate situation: 

List reversal: intermediate state

 The figure illustrates the invariant:

Starting from previous and repeatedly following right links yields the elements of some initial part of the list, but in the reverse of their original order; starting from next and following right links yields the remaining elements, in their original order. 

Then it is clear what the loop body with its pointer ballet is about: it moves by one position to the right the boundary between the two parts, making sure that the invariant holds again in the new state, with one more element in the first (yellow) part and one fewer in the second (pink) part. At the end the second part will be empty and the first part will encompass all elements, so that (after resetting first to the value of previous) we get the desired result.

This example is particularly interesting because list reversal is a standard interview questions for programmers seeking a job; as a result, dozens of  pages around the Web helpfully present algorithms for the benefit of job candidates. I ran a search  on “List reversal algorithm” [3], which yields many such pages. It is astounding to see that from the first fifteen hits or so, which include pages from programming courses at both Stanford and MIT, not a single one mentions invariants, or (even without using the word) gives the above explanation. The situation is all the more bizarre that many of these pages — read them for yourself! — go into intricate details about variants of the pointer manipulations. There are essentially no correctness arguments.

If you go a bit further down the search results, you will find some papers that do reference invariants, but here is the catch: rather than programming or algorithms papers, they are papers about software verification, such as one by Richard Bornat which uses a low-level (C) version of the example to illustrate separation logic [4]. These are good papers but they are completely distinct from those directed at ordinary programmers, who simply wish to learn a basic algorithm, understand it in depth, and remember it on the day of the interview and beyond.

This chasm is wrong. Software verification techniques are not just good for the small phalanx of experts interested in formal proofs. The basic ideas have potential applications to the daily business of programming, as the practice of Eiffel has shown (this is the concept of  “Verification As a Matter Of Course” briefly discussed in an earlier post [5]). Absurdly, the majority of programmers do not know them.

It’s not that they cannot do their job: somehow they eke out good enough results, most of the time. After all, the European cathedrals of the middle ages were built without the benefit of sophisticated mathematical models, and they still stand. But today we would not hire a construction engineer who had not studied the appropriate mathematical techniques. Why should we make things different for software engineering, and deprive practitioners from the benefits of solid, well-accepted theory?  

As a modest first step, there is no excuse, ever, for publishing a loop without the basic evidence of its adequacy: the loop invariant.

References

[1] Bertrand Meyer: Touch of Class: Learning to Program Well, Using Objects and Contracts, Springer, 2009. See course page (English version) here.

[2] Course slides on control structures,  here in PowerPoint (or here in PDF, without the animation); see example starting on page 51, particularly the animation on page 54. More recent version in German here (and in PDF here), animation on page 60.

[3] For balance I ran the search using Qrobe, which combines results from Ask, Bing and Google.

[4] Richard Bornat, Proving Pointer Programs in Hoare Logic, in  MPC ’00, 5th International Conference on Mathematics of Program Construction, 2000, available here.

[5] Bertrand Meyer, Verification as a Matter of Course, a post on this blog.

A Galois connection (for anyone not familiar with the concept, the Wikipedia entry is decent)  between two partially ordered sets consists of two total functions f: A → B and g: B → A such that for  all a: A and b: B

(f (a)  ≤  b)    ⇔    (g  (b)  ≥  a)

The simplest and most common example uses powersets and inclusion: for some sets X and Y, A is ℙ (X), the set of subsets of X, and B is ℙ (Y); the ≤ order relation is simply ⊆, inclusion between subsets. So the condition is that for arbitrary subsets a and b of X and Y:

(f (a)  ⊆  b)    ⇔    (g  (b)  ⊇  a)

Pictorially:

A Galois connection between powersets

(Instead of starting with total functions f and g between  ℙ (X) and ℙ (Y) you may also use possibly partial functions f’ : A -|-> B and g’ : B -|-> A, and use for f and g the associated image functions, which are total.)

Now you might think that this post continues with abstract interpretation or some such topic, but what I really want to talk about is dictionaries. Bilingual dictionaries. You need them if you are learning a language, and they would seem to be the ideal application for computers, including shirt-pocket computers (more commonly known as smartphones). Hyperlinking frees us from the tyranny of page turning and makes dictionary browsing an exciting and entirely new experience: you can type partial words and see them completed, make mistakes and see them corrected, discover a new word and see it memorized into the interactive equivalent of flashcards. If in the definition of a word you see another that catches your attention, in either the source or the target language, you can click it and see its own definition. You can travel back and forth, retain your browsing history, and test yourself repeatedly.

Unfortunately, what I have described is only the theory. Current electronic bilingual dictionaries — at least those I tried, but I tried quite a few, involving a variety of languages — fall short of this ideal. In addition, they are typically of rather bad linguistic quality as compared to their print competitors.

An example of a seemingly fundamental requirement that every bilingual dictionary should satisfy (and that dictionaries on the market fail to meet), is that the relationship it defines between two languages must  be a Galois connection, both ways. If you are looking for the translation of a word or group of words a in X, and obtain a set b of equivalents in Y, then it is pretty hard to justify that when you go back the translations for b do not include a!

I have yet, however, to find a Galois dictionary. As an example among hundreds that I encountered in recent months, take the Pons ($30) French-German dictionary. As the names suggest f will be the function yielding the French translation of a set of German words and g  the German translation of a set of French words. Now g {(“approximation“)}  includes “Näherungswert“; but then f ({“Näherungswert“}) only lists “Valeur approchée“!

The Galois requirement is not just a matter of principle; it makes the dictionary useful for native speakers of either language. If, as here,  g  (b)  ⊆  a but (f (a) ⊉    b), and a includes  the most common words in Y for the concepts at hand, the native Y speaker may find the right translation (Näherungswert is indeed pretty good for approximation in the mathematical usage of this word),  but the native speaker of X will be misled. Indeed valeur approchée is not  the best term for the concept of mathematical approximation in French.

More generally, the reader who is trying to master both of the dictionary’s languages will be cheated. Such a reader wants to use the dictionary not just to get quick translations (there’s Google and Bing Translate for that), but to gain deep insights into the languages and their correspondence. How can one learn without the ability to check translations back and forth?

I wrote to Pons to report this problem (and others). To their great credit they took the trouble to answer my message in detail; but here is their tack on the issue:

“As far as the choice of headwords for the source and the target language is concerned, PONS always is doing this choice for each language volume separatedly as we the dictionaries are made for special target groups and in different sizes we have to make a choice of words and this is done with regard to the importance a word has in each language – source and target language – and not by simply changing source and target language. This special elaboration of headword lists for each language can imply that a word which can be found in one volume of the dictionary is not necessarily part of the other volume.”

I am not sure I understand what this means, but I am much too kind to wish upon dictionary authors, if they do not fix their systems, the sad fate of Évariste Galois.

The software world is not flat; it is multipolar. Gone are the days of one-site, one-team developments. The increasingly dominant model today is a distributed team; the place where the job gets done is the place where the appropriate people reside, even if it means that different parts of the job get done in different places.

This new setup, possibly the most important change to have affected the practice of software engineering in this early part of the millennium,  has received little attention in the literature; and even less in teaching techniques. I got interested in the topic several years ago, initially by looking at the phenomenon of outsourcing from a software engineering perspective [1]. At ETH, since 2004, Peter Kolb and I, aided by Martin Nordio and Roman Mitin, have taught a course on the topic [2], initially called “software engineering for outsourcing”. As far as I know it was the first course of its kind anywhere; not the first course about outsourcing, but the first to explore the software engineering implications, rather than business or political issues. We also teach an industry course on the same issues [3], attended since 2005 by several hundred participants, and started, with Mathai Joseph from Tata Consulting Services, the SEAFOOD conference [4], Software Engineering Advances For Outsourced and Offshore Development, whose fourth edition starts tomorrow in Saint Petersburg.

After a few sessions of the ETH course we realized that the most important property of the mode of software development explored in the course is not that it involves outsourcing but that it is distributed. In parallel I became directly involved with highly distributed development in the practice of Eiffel Software’s development. In 2007 we renamed the ETH course “Distributed and Outsourced Software Engineering” (DOSE) to acknowledge the broadened scope. The topic is still new; each year we learn a little more about what to teach and how to teach it.

The 2007 session saw another important addition. We felt it was no longer sufficient to talk about distributed development, but that students should practice it. Collaboration between groups in Zurich and other groups in Zurich was not good enough. So we contacted colleagues around the world interested in similar issues, and received an enthusiastic response. The DOSE project is itself distributed: teams from students in different universities collaborate in a single development. Typically, we have two or three geographically distributed locations in each project group. The participating universities have been Politecnico di Milano (where our colleagues Carlo Ghezzi and Elisabetta di Nitto have played a major role in the current version of the project), University of Nijny-Novgorod in Russia, University of Debrecen in Hungary, Hanoi University of Technology in Vietnam, Odessa National Polytechnic in the Ukraine and (across town for us) University of Zurich. For the first time in 2010 a university from the Western hemisphere will join: University of Rio Cuarto in Argentina.

We have extensively studied how the projects actually fare (see publications [4-8]). For students, the job is hard. Often, after a couple of weeks, many want to give up: they have trouble reaching their partner teams, understanding their accents on Skype calls, agreeing on modes of collaboration, finalizing APIs, devising a proper test plan. Yet they hang on and, in most cases, succeed. At the end of the course they tell us how much they have learned about software engineering. For example I know few better way of teaching the importance of carefully documented program interfaces — including contracts — than to ask the students to integrate their modules with code from another team halfway around the globe. This is exactly what happens in industrial software development, when you can no longer rely on informal contacts at the coffee machine or in the parking lot to smooth out misunderstandings: software engineering principles and techniques come in full swing. With DOSE, students learn and practice these fundamental techniques in the controlled environment of a university project.

An example project topic, used last year, was based on an idea by Martin Nordio. He pointed out that in most countries there are some card games played in that country only. The project was to program such a game, where the team in charge of the game logic (what would be the “business model” in an industrial project) had to explain enough of their country’s game, and abstractly enough, to enable the other team to produce the user interface, based on a common game engine started by Martin. It was tough, but some of the results were spectacular, and these are students who will not need more preaching on the importance of specifications.

We are currently preparing the next session of DOSE, in collaboration with our partner universities. The more the merrier: we’d love to have other universities participate, including from the US. Adding extra spice to the project, the topic will be chosen among those from the ICSE SCORE competition [9], so that winning students have the opportunity to attend ICSE in Hawaii. If you are teaching a suitable course, or can organize a student group that will fit, please read the project description [10] and contact me or one of the other organizers listed on the page. There is a DOSE of madness in the idea, but no one, teacher or student,  ever leaves the course bored.

References

[1] Bertrand Meyer: Offshore Development: The Unspoken Revolution in Software Engineering, in Computer (IEEE), January 2006, pages 124, 122-123. Available here.

[2] ETH course page: see here for last year’s session (description of Fall 2010 session will be added soon).

[3] Industry course page: see here for latest (June 2010( session (description of November 2010 session will be added soon).

[4] SEAFOOD 2010 home page.

[5] Bertrand Meyer and Marco Piccioni: The Allure and Risks of a Deployable Software Engineering Project: Experiences with Both Local and Distributed Development, in Proceedings of IEEE Conference on Software Engineering & Training (CSEE&T), Charleston (South Carolina), 14-17 April 2008, ed. H. Saiedian, pages 3-16. Preprint version  available online.

[6] Bertrand Meyer:  Design and Code Reviews in the Age of the Internet, in Communications of the ACM, vol. 51, no. 9, September 2008, pages 66-71. (Original version in Proceedings of SEAFOOD 2008 (Software Engineering Advances For Offshore and Outsourced Development,  Lecture Notes in Business Information Processing 16, Springer Verlag, 2009.) Available online.

[7] Martin Nordio, Roman Mitin, Bertrand Meyer, Carlo Ghezzi, Elisabetta Di Nitto and Giordano Tamburelli: The Role of Contracts in Distributed Development, in Proceedings of SEAFOOD 2009 (Software Engineering Advances For Offshore and Outsourced Development), Zurich, June-July 2009, Lecture Notes in Business Information Processing 35, Springer Verlag, 2009. Available online.

[8] Martin Nordio, Roman Mitin and Bertrand Meyer: Advanced Hands-on Training for Distributed and Outsourced Software Engineering, in ICSE 2010: Proceedings of 32th International Conference on Software Engineering, Cape Town, May 2010, IEEE Computer Society Press, 2010. Available online.

[9] ICSE SCORE 2011 competition home page.

[10] DOSE project course page.

In response to many requests, I have made available [1] the slides of my education keynote at ICSE earlier this month. The theme was “From programming to software engineering: notes of an accidental teacher”. Some of the material has been presented before, notably at the Informatics Education Europe conference in Venice in 2009. (In research you can give a new talk every month, but in education things move at a more senatorial pace.) Still, part of the content is new. The talk is a summary of my experience teaching programming and software engineering at ETH.

The usual caveats apply: these are only slides (I did not write a paper), and not all may be understandable independently of the actual talk.

Reference

[1] From programming to software engineering: notes of an accidental teacher, slides from a keynote talk at ICSE 2010.

Efforts to attract more women to computer science evoke C. Northcote Parkinson’s analysis of the progression of the British Navy after World War I: ever more admirals, ever fewer ships [1]. There have been some successes, notably at Carnegie Mellon [2], but mostly we tear our hair in despair while percentages of female informatics students hover around 10%, less than in the seventies, regardless of how hard we try (one department I know has a full-fledged “Frauenförderung” —women’s promotion — organization, with as much effect on enrollment as if it were hiring admirals).

The best analysis, going beyond the usual pieties and providing concrete recommendations, is the Informatics Europe report by Jan van Leeuwen and Letizia Tanca [3]. Even the simple steps it recommends, however, still face technical difficulties and faculty resistance.

The report was right to concentrate on the image of the discipline. In one of its conclusions, it encourages us to remind the world that “Informatics/Computing provides the science and the technology that underpins the development of today’s digital world”.

Is help coming from some unlikely quarters? Yesterday’s Wall Street Journal describes [4] the campaign for a new personality of the Barbie doll. In a public vote started by Mattel, girls overwhelmingly chose “Barbie the Anchorwoman”; but the vote was open to anyone, and a campaign of women IT professionals led to the triumph of “Barbie the Computer Engineer”, which as a result will be one of the new models. For the little girl in your life, with her special affinity for logic and her special people skills (the harbinger of IT success), it is never too early to place your order.

References

[1] C. Northcote Parkinson: Parkinson’s Law: The Pursuit of Progress, London, John Murray, 1958; see also original article in The Economist.

[2] Joanne McGrath Cohoon: Must there be so few?: including women in CS, , International Conference on Software Engineering, Portland, 2003, pages 668-674, available online (with ACM registration).

[3] Jan van Leeuwen and Letizia Tanca (Eds.): Student Enrollment and Image of the Informatics Discipline, Informatics Europe Report IE-2008-01, October 2008, available online.

[4] Ann Zimmerman: Revenge of the Nerds: How Barbie Got Her Geek On, in the Wall Street Journal, 9 April 2010, currently available online.

The book page for Touch of Class (my introductory programming textbook), announced in the book, is finally available, courtesy Vladimir Tochilin:

touch.ethz.ch

It includes some book extracts (prefaces, table of contents, an entire sample chapter, for which I chose the Recursion chapter), a list of known errata and a wiki page to report new errata, a discussion forum, links to the full set of slides (PowerPoint, PDF) for the associated course, video recordings of that course at ETH, and a special “instructor’s corner” for those having adopted the textbook for their courses.

My textbook Touch of Class: An Introduction to Programming Well Using Objects and Contracts [1] is now available from Springer Verlag [2]. I have been told of many bookstores in Europe that have it by now; for example Amazon Germany [3] offers immediate delivery. Amazon US still lists the book as not yet published [4], but I think this will be corrected very soon.

The book results from six years of teaching introductory programming at ETH Zurich. It is richly illustrated in full color (not only with technical illustrations but with numerous photographs of people and artefacts). It is pretty big, but designed so that a typical one-semester introductory course can cover most of the material.

Many topics are addressed (see table of contents below), including quite a few that are seldom seen at the introductory level. Some examples, listed here in random order: a fairly extensive introduction to software engineering including things like requirements engineering (not usually mentioned in programming courses, with results for everyone to see!) and CMMI, a detailed discussion of how to implement recursion, polymorphism and dynamic binding and their role for software architecture, multiple inheritance, lambda calculus (at an introductory level of course), a detailed analysis of the Observer and Visitor patterns, event-driven programming, the lure and dangers of references and aliasing, topological sort as an example of both algorithm and API design, high-level function closures, software tools, properties of computer hardware relevant for programmers, undecidability etc.

The progression uses an object-oriented approach throughout; the examples are in Eiffel, and four appendices present the details of Java, C#, C++ and C. Concepts of Design by Contract and rigorous development are central to the approach; for example, loops are presented as a technique for computing a result by successive approximation, with a central role for the concept of loop invariant. This is not a “formal methods” book in the sense of inflicting on the students a heavy mathematical apparatus, but it uses preconditions, postconditions and invariants throughout to alert them to the importance of reasoning rigorously about programs. The discussion introduces many principles of sound design, in line with the book’s subtitle, “Learning to Program Well”.

The general approach is “Outside-In” (also known as “Inverted Curriculum” and described at some length in some of my articles, see e.g. [5]): students have, right from the start, the possibility of working with real software, a large (150,000-line) library that has been designed specifically for that purpose. Called Traffic, this library simulates traffic in a city; it is graphical and of good enough visual quality to be attractive to today’s “Wii generation” students, something that traditional beginners’ exercises, like computing the 7-th Fibonacci number, cannot do (although we have these too as well). Using the Traffic software through its API, students can right from the first couple of weeks produce powerful applications, without understanding the internals of the library. But they do not stop there: since the whole thing is available in open source, students learn little by little how the software is made internally. Hence the name “Outside-In”: understand the interface first, then dig into the internals. Two advantages of the approach are particularly worth noting:

• It emphasizes the value of abstraction, and particular contracts, not by preaching but by showing to students that abstraction helps them master a large body of professional-level software, doing things that would otherwise be unthinkable at an introductory level.
• It addresses what is probably today the biggest obstacle to teaching introductory programming: the wide diversity of initial student backgrounds. The risk with traditional approaches is either to fly too high and lose the novices, or stay too low and bore those who already have programming experience. With the Outside-In method the novices can follow the exact path charted from them, from external API to internal implementation; those who already know something about programming can move ahead of the lectures and start digging into the code by themselves for information and inspiration.

(We have pretty amazing data on students’ prior programming knowledge, as  we have been surveying students for the past six years, initially at ETH and more recently at the University of York in England thanks to our colleague Manuel Oriol; some day I will post a blog entry about this specific topic.)

The book has been field-tested in its successive drafts since 2003 at ETH, for the Introduction to Programming course (which starts again in a few weeks, for the first time with the benefit of the full text in printed form). Our material, such as a full set of slides, plus exercises, video recordings of the lectures etc. is available to any instructor selecting the text. I must say that Springer did an outstanding job with the quality of the printing and I hope that instructors, students, and even some practitioners already in industry will like both form and content.

Table of contents

Front matter: Community resource, Dedication (to Tony Hoare and Niklaus Wirth), Prefaces, Student_preface, Instructor_preface, Note to instructors: what to cover?, Contents

PART I: Basics
1 The industry of pure ideas
2 Dealing with objects
3 Program structure basics
4 The interface of a class
5 Just Enough Logic
6 Creating objects and executing systems
7 Control structures
8 Routines, functional abstraction and information hiding
9 Variables, assignment and references
PART II: How things work
10 Just enough hardware
11 Describing syntax
12 Programming languages and tools
PART III: Algorithms and data structures
13 Fundamental data structures, genericity, and algorithm complexity
14 Recursion and trees
15 Devising and engineering an algorithm: Topological Sort
PART IV: Object-Oriented Techniques
16 Inheritance
17 Operations as objects: agents and lambda calculus
18 Event-driven design
PART V: Towards software engineering
19 Introduction to software engineering
PART VI: Appendices
A An introduction to Java (from material by Marco Piccioni)
B An introduction to C# (from material by Benjamin Morandi)
C An introduction to C++ (from material by Nadia Polikarpova)
D From C++ to C
E Using the EiffelStudio environment
Picture credits
Index

References

[1] Bertrand Meyer, Touch of Class: An Introduction to Programming Well Using Objects and Contracts, Springer Verlag, 2009, 876+lxiv pages, Hardcover, ISBN: 978-3-540-92144-8.

[2] Publisher page for [1]: see  here. List price: $79.95. (The page says “Ships in 3 to 4 weeks” but I think this is incorrect as the book is available; I’ll try to get the mention corrected.)

[3] Amazon.de page: see here. List price: EUR 53.45 (with offers starting at EUR 41.67).

[4] Amazon.com page: see here. List price: $63.96.

[5] Michela Pedroni and Bertrand Meyer: The Inverted Curriculum in Practice, in Proceedings of SIGCSE 2006, ACM, Houston (Texas), 1-5 March 2006, pages 481-485; available online.