This post isn't coming up with any new synthesis, evidence, or theories on the trends in computer science. It's not a logical argument. It's just been ten years since I've started my journey in computer science, and now more than ever, I want to reflect.
I didn't know how to write a program when I declared my major as computer science back in 2015. All I had to go on was my sister's success, 12 years older than me with a job as a software developer, and my parents insistence that it was the right choice because I was "good at math." My sister tried to get me to start like she did, writing little HTML web pages, but I quickly got bored of this and didn't even manage to create even a single website.
The only reason I even went into computer science and research, and have continued, was the people. I'll be honest, I don't really care about most things in computer science, or even my research field of programming languages. Solving little puzzles is fun, technology makes a lot of things easier (and also frustrates the hell out of me), but overall I don't really care about making new apps, games, content, or even new research.
Even when I started my graduate degrees, I couldn't picture the grand theories or new ideas I would produce. I thought (and still think) about what I might write in my acknowledgements, reflecting on the people and interactions that made the degree possible. I thought about how people may build on the work in the future, or what questions they might have, or what they might get out of the paper, or what they would think of me, as a person. I thought about what people might say about me at one of those 60th birthday celebrations if I were ever to be successful in research, and what I would say about my amazing friends and colleagues at theirs'. What embarrassing stories I might bring up to amuse them and everyone in the room.
My favourite part of a thesis is obviously the acknowledgements. Some are short and sweet, and don't say too much, only acknowledging their supervisor and some other researchers for their contributions. Others are long, and include family and friends from outside the research community, and tidbits and details from the author's life, like where their office space was. I imagine their relationships evolving throughout the degree, just like their ideas, and find new connections I hadn't known about. I was once bored at my parent's place in Florida way back in 2017, so I reached out to Jay Ligatti, a professor at University of South Florida, to talk about PL research and grad school. He was incredibly kind and welcoming, and seemed so excited that someone had reached out to talk about PL since most students at USF were more interested in engineering and systems. Imagine my surprise, as I am deep in my own research work, when I see this name appear again in the acknowledgements of Amal Ahmed's thesis. We have all these invisible threads tying us together, across oceans and vast expanses of earth.
And yet, the field of a computer science as a whole seems to reject humanity, faster now than ever. Humans are "messy" and "illogical." Human connection can be "solved" and replaced. Yes, I realize that my own field started as a way of automating and making logical arguments "objective" under some system. Yet I've only experienced joy learning these systems, figuring them out with other people, learning about what people cared about in the past and present. I have so many precious memories from my (yes admittedly, tough) undergraduate degree, my first introduction to the field. Long hours working with my friends, reading, solving problems, arguing with each other, visiting office hours, learning, practicing, exploring, creating.
I think my care and interest in the humans behind the process of course was because of a combination of many people, but especially from Sam Tobin-Hochstadt, Dan Friedman, and Ron Garcia. Sam, who will always get my acknowledgement and love forever, for introducing to the field as a whole, and encouraging me every step of the way. Dan, for every lecture not only teaching us deep concepts, but also always including stories of the people behind them or of other students, or how the content was created for the course, or stories from his past, or his shower thoughts. Ron is a similarly excellent story teller, always able to paint pictures not only of the technical contributions of the field, but also the people behind them. Ron always starts his PL class lectures with a face and a name and a story or history. Once, Ron found me reading Reference Capabilities for Flexible Memory Management by Arvidsson et al, and, seeing Tobias's name on the authors, enthusiastically told me what a nice person Tobias is.
Again, I love conferences because of the people. Sorry, I often do not care about the actual content behind the talks, or the content of the research. Actually, the last conference I went to was almost entirely filled up by going to my friends' (and new friends') talks. I love their love for their area, for their contribution to the world, for what they think and hope and aspire and how they care in sharing it with us, and what they hope I can get out of it too! The funny conversations we have, the pictures we take, the dinner and drinks we have. Sneaking away to an empty room to learn category theory with Ohad, who has really demonstrated the epitome of human connection and patience with me, especially when it comes to learning category theory.
With all this love and connection in teaching and research (the kind of whatever love Amy describes in her SIGCSE keynote), how can one not be absolutely saddened and hopeless by where technology has gotten us. Humans are merely a product, a way of generating data, manufacturing connection because it's easy to trick our connection hungry brains on empty words. Yes, they're a technological innovation. I don't care that you can be three thousand times more productive. I don't care about your apps or proofs or production. I only cared about these things because you did, because I valued your humanity and perspective in producing art, or a game, or a cool program, or learning how to solve a problem for the first time.
I love teaching, and of course I want to replicate the incredible connections and love I felt during my degrees. How can I not be saddened, sitting in an empty room, waiting for students to come to office hours, when they've been taught that having questions is wrong, and now we've sold you the solution to your wrongness, ask a bot instead, it's convenient, you don't have to embarrass yourself, or feel the connection and love of someone trying to help you achieve the most. How can I continue to try and foster connection, when we've been sold the idea that humans are useless, and its easier to do it on your own with a bot.
I guess what makes me sad is realizing that we* were different after all. You did actually care about being more productive, "solving" math or humanity or whatever, not about people or connection. These tools don't represent an amazing technological advancement to me, they represent the horror of realizing that it was actually about automating as much humanity as possible. Connection, learning, teaching, producing new ideas, all of it. If we have an agent doing everything we love, what are we left with?
*not really you, dear reader, but computer science as a whole I guess.