On Engineering Software and Trade-Offs Nov 13, 2017

Luca Ongaro
I am Luca Ongaro, engineer. I build software things and I am a science enthusiast.
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As software developers, we tend to be quite opinionated about our tools and techniques. Our own specific education and experiences shape our preferences, and we often identify with several schools of thought. We might be, for example, advocates of functional programming, practitioners of test driven development, or microservices enthusiasts. On top of this, we all have our preferences when it comes to technology: our favorite programming languages, databases, infrastructure… These preferences shape our identity as software developers, and exert a profound influence on the way we think: we view problems through those lenses, and determine the way we envision solutions.

On one hand, this is often a good thing: these disciplines provide us with a useful model of the programming reality and with ways to navigate it. On the other, strong beliefs might cause us to end up stuck defending our own stance, unable to see the merits of a different view point. It is not unusual to witness developers belonging to different schools of thought vehemently argue over some technical decision, each strenuously defending their own view of the (programming) World.

While there is nothing wrong in recognizing the merits of a technique and in adopting it, we should never forget one fundamental point: pretty much every technical discipline or tool embodies a trade-off. Techniques and technologies are solutions to specific problems, and their merits or flaws are never absolute, but always bound to the context. Being aware of where these trade-offs lie is necessary not only to operate the right choices of tech, but also to maintain an open and flexible mind, capable of changing approach when necessary. Moreover, knowing where costs and benefits lie, provide us with the opportunity to innovate in ways that shift the trade-offs in a better direction.

Static vs. Dynamic Typing

One prominent example of something that many software developers hold strong opinions about, is statically versus dynamically typed languages. Advocates of static typing on one hand often maintain that strong typing is absolutely necessary for any serious project, while – on the other hand – users of dynamically typed languages regard static typing as a tedious and mostly unnecessary ceremony.

Despite these strong beliefs, evidence shows that both approaches can be extremely successful, ruling out a single objective winner of the diatribe. If dynamic typing cannot scale, how can we explain the existence of numerous large projects written in JavaScript, Python, Ruby, etc.? Let alone the immense success of C as a system programming language, which, while definitely not dynamically typed, can hardly be considered a strong type system. Equally, if it was true that static typing only hinders productivity and expressiveness, how could we account for the vast number of widely adopted strongly type languages, and their evident success on the field? The situation is not different if we turn our attention to demerits: no matter how opinionated we might be on one side or the other, we can at least agree that terrible code can be written in any practical language, no matter the type system.

Therefore, instead of adopting an absolute view point, let’s try to focus on the trade-offs of these two approaches. One way to look at it, is that static typing reduces the number of runtime errors, at the cost of requiring more effort to express solutions in code. Seen through these lenses, we can start appreciating how contextual the specific merits of both disciplines are. The cost of runtime errors is indeed vastly different for each specific application.

In a web application for example, “runtime” often means the development machine on which code is written, or the automated test environment. In a non-critical application adopting continuous delivery, even when the occasional bug slips to production, it can easily be reverted or patched with a new deployment. In these situations, favoring a language that makes it convenient to write automated tests, and shortens the test-code-deploy cycle, might often be the right choice. As a counter example, native mobile applications and embedded software follow release cycles that make it costly to deploy a fix to all users, if a runtime bug is discovered. In this cases, a strong type system can help catching defects and inconsistencies before it’s too late, and is worth some more effort to get our software to compile.

One objection to this line of reasoning could be that we should strive to minimize defects, no matter if they are more or less costly. That is of course true, but the point is that this minimization is subject to a cost structure, and the optimal solution depends on those costs. If that wasn’t the case, we would witness a world of absolutely bug-free software. The reality is quite different, and our job as engineers comes necessarily with a fair share of risk management considerations.

Of course there are other trade-offs at play, such as the extent to which IDEs can help us, versus the redundancy of the hints we have to give to compilers for them to help us catching inconsistencies. Again, the point is that being aware of them makes us better equipped to make informed decisions.

There are numerous examples of innovations on both sides that all rely on an awareness of these trade-offs and a conscious effort to improve on them. Type inference is an effort to reduce the additional effort of writing statically typed code, and got to the point that some static languages, like Crystal, hardly require any type annotation at all. On the other hand, there are dynamic languages that add some static analysis capabilities to their toolbox, as seen in Dialyzer for Erlang and Elixir, or Flow for JavaScript, making the static vs. dynamic typing distinction more like a gradient of possibilities than a binary choice.

Microservices vs. Monolith

Another example of a polarizing diatribe is microservices versus monolithic architectures. The term “monolith” is already subtly conveying an association with something old and clumsy, almost prehistoric, testifying how heated the debate is. Equally, the Internet is bubbling with examples of microservice architectures gone awry. But once again, let’s try to steer the conversation away from fruitless animosity by focusing on trade-offs of the respective solutions.

Microservices divide an application in separate and independent artifacts communicating with each other passing messages through standardized interfaces, usually (but not exclusively) implemented as HTTP APIs. As such, microservice architectures make it easier to evolve and improve at the level of the single service: as long as the interface stays the same, a service can be completely rewritten without the other services even noticing. On the other hand, microservices make the boundaries between services way more rigid: changing those boundaries requires careful coordination between different services, and often between different teams.

Depending on the life cycle of a project, and on how stable the functional boundaries are expected to be, this trade-off can change dramatically, making one approach or the other preferable or problematic. This dynamic is not exclusive of our industry: in management studies, this trade-off is known as modularity vs. integrality, and there are plenty of case studies showing how each approach has proved beneficial or detrimental to companies in different contexts.

Once again, being aware of these costs and benefits, makes it possible to consider the context in which we operate our decisions. Moreover, we often have the possibility to shift the balance or hedge the risks, for example by adopting a modular architecture even within a single service, or splitting our services only where boundaries are well known and stable.

Distributed Systems vs. Centralized Systems

One final example is distributed systems versus centralized ones. There has been a lot of innovation in the field of distributed systems in recent years, and we have witnessed a proliferation of new decentralized solutions dealing with storage, configuration management, messaging queues, and more. Proponents of this approach outline the benefits of distribution when it comes to scaling and resilience, but the wave of innovation brought also a certain disdain for centralized solutions.

Distributed systems are a welcome addition to our choice of technologies, but once again, their advantages do not come without a cost. A distributed system reduces the chances of a failure of the whole system, at the cost of having to run and coordinate several nodes, therefore incurring in some overhead, and increasing the chances that any single node will fail, requiring intervention. This might seem like a reasonable trade-off to accept, but there are products or teams where an occasional short downtime is more acceptable than a sustained higher effort on operations.

A centralized system is harder to scale, but on the other hand it is not susceptible to network partitions, hence it is not subject to the CAP theorem and can be at the same time available and consistent. Therefore, depending on the scale and requirements of a particular project, different approaches are preferable.

By keeping this trade-off in mind, and by knowing the specific context and requirements of a project, we are able to make informed decisions, and to consciously mitigate the risks that come with our technology of choice. Furthermore, centralized systems can be backed-up and replicated, and distributed systems can alleviate the operational burden by automating some operations, and by adopting an application design that takes into consideration from the beginning the limits of the system, when it comes to consistency or availability.


In conclusion, the software development universe is full of polarizing dichotomies, and engineers often have strong opinions: functional programming versus object orientation, client-side versus server-side rendering, performance versus maintainability, and so on. Experience should teach us that in each of those dichotomies lies a trade-off, as well as different boundaries of applicability. Reflecting on costs and benefits helps us keeping a flexible mind and recognizing opportunities to adopt different strategies. Reminding ourselves that every solution is contextual and never absolute is an exercise of intellectual honesty, if we strive to be well-rounded engineers. Finally, focusing on trade-offs and context, rather than on position and beliefs, makes technical discussions a lot more enjoyable and less prone to end with an impasse.