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Keeping Up

by Donald Christiansen

We all know Moore's Law, which says that the number of devices on a chip doubles every year, or every 18 months, or every two years, or something. But there's another law, as yet unnamed, that is loosely related to, or may even be construed as a corollary of, Moore's Law. It asserts that the knowledge of an engineer becomes obsolete within 10 years, or eight years, or five years — or something...

The effects of the latter law reveal themselves in many ways. The obsolescing engineer may be relegated to less challenging assignments. Or his (or her) job may be commoditized and sent offshore. Those who can't keep up may leave the engineering profession altogether, or transfer laterally to a related job that takes advantage of their engineering background.

Most of us are aware when obsolescence begins to set in, and can react accordingly. Except, of course, when we become so enamored of our present work or our own ideas that we pay little attention to competitive developments or new techniques and technologies that others are working on.

A Confession and Rationale

The other day a colleague whom I had not seen in several years called to ask me a relatively straightforward question concerning computers. "I have no idea," I answered him. Taken aback, he reminded me that I am a member of the IEEE Computer Society (I have been a member for more years than I can remember), and that he'd often seen copies of various Society Transactions on my desk at home and Computer magazine on my coffee table. I sensed the time had come for full disclosure. "I belong to the Computer Society in self defense," I told him, reminding him that we both got into the business when discrete components ruled, the transistor was dislodging the vacuum tube, and the integrated circuit was just a gleam in the eye of pioneers like Kilby and Noyce. Those were the days of punch cards by the boxful, and we escaped the humid laboratory and factory floor by retreating to the refrigerated computer room, where, when he found us, its administrator promptly ejected us for perturbing the computer's sacrosanct environment.

Schooled in things linear, I was a stranger to the digital world. Even so, it looked to me as if the computer had a future. And so, in self defense, I joined the Computer Society. It helped me to hang on, even if I often felt as if I were running dead last as computer gurus passed me in the race for more and speedier bits. I'm thankful for Computer magazine, and for authors like Neville Holmes ("The Profession") and Bob Colwell (I miss "At Random"), who express themselves so well in simple English. The balance of the magazine keeps me current on acronyms and other computerese, and, not the least, on the seemingly endless problems and challenges that computer designers and programmers visit on us and upon themselves, even as they bring us useful new applications.

After listening to my rambling explanation as to why I could not answer his specific question, my friend sheepishly admitted that he too belonged to several IEEE Societies in self defense, though he said he never thought of putting it that way. We agreed that our memberships in professional societies not directly related to our immediate assignments had helped us stay current — in my case keeping me aware of the unrelenting penetration of digital technology into all aspects of engineering design and applications.

Of course, there are many other ways to retard the onset of obsolescence. They include advanced degree work, company-sponsored in-house education programs, attendance at IEEE and other professional society meetings, and writing or co-authoring technical papers. But these are topics for discussion at another time.

Meanwhile, hang on as best you can. Try to keep up, or at least keep up appearances!

Donald Christiansen is the former editor and publisher of IEEE Spectrum and an independent publishing consultant. He may be reached at donchristiansen@ieee.org.