I love working with software (and hardware) engineers because of the concrete, inward looking, utterly absorbing, many-layered work they do. With an artificial language built on top of an extremely limited instruction set, they create something that can talk to a machine and make things happen.
That’s it: that’s the transaction at the heart of writing code.
To do this at a very high level requires a kind of attention, concentration, and devotion that is practically religious in nature. It’s not uncommon to see a certain species of engineer lose the ability to speak coherently after a few hours of writing code.
This is not “project management mind” nor is it “why-are-we-doing-this mind”. It is a state of rapt attention and intention more aptly compared to the spiritual or aesthetic mind found in prayer, meditation, art, or sport. To characterize this as a primitive state of mind is not to say it’s simple or unsophisticated, as Gary Snyder points out in his great essay “Poetry and the Primitive”, but to say it’s been with us from the beginning.
The primitive mind and its attendant joy in naming and making can of course be domesticated or cultivated for economic gain (Levi-Strauss, via Snyder) as surely as wild pigs or prairie. This is exactly what most of us are doing, as we sit in our cubes or offices amidst the great expanse of our multinational corporations or the more scaled down hillsides and vallies of smaller companies and startups.
Within these organizations, there are still thickets where the wild mind survives, and even thrives, and software engineering is one of those great preserves. Bill Gates’ (possibly only) genius is that he understood how to attract that kind of mind, then tame it to the end of making money.
When a human being writes a poem, makes a song, or tries to tame the wild machine, (s)he partakes in a primitive wonder that knows no remuneration (often quite literally). Oddly, it is this same human being an organization turns to with its most intransigent technical issues. No matter how erudite, facile at abstraction, or managerially converted we become, there is still a side of us that knows the real work of making. Yes, there are still worlds where no explanation is required.