Recently, I filled out our application for a marriage certificate. I began with the section titled “Groom.” Last name, first name, middle initial … fine. Sex: M or F. Huh?

As Minnesota doesn’t recognize same-sex marriages, the number of female grooms is low enough to ignore. Still, there was no point in arguing, so I circled “M” and moved on.

Next on the form was Race. There wasn’t enough room to write “disproved hypothesis,” so I left that box blank.

As a concept, race belongs in the scientific dustbin, right next to inheritance of acquired characteristics and the luminiferous aether. Because while racism is alive and well, race — which always should have been irrelevant, other than in situations guided by affirmative action — turns out to be a useless way to categorize humanity.

Race would mean something if a variety of different traits were genetically linked — if, that is, they assorted non-randomly in the population. It turns out, though, that (for example) skin color, height, eye color, and heritable cognitive characteristics have no discoverable genetic linkage. They don’t follow each other around.

People being what they are, the scientific evidence hasn’t settled any social issues. Citizens of African ancestry whose forebears arrived in this country as slaves continue to experience social hindrances, and we’re as far from finding effective remedies as we’ve ever been.

Nor is this an abstract issue in IT. Look around you — I’m willing to bet most of the faces you see are relatively pale when compared to the population as a whole. Listen, too: How many out-of-work programmers simultaneously proselytize libertarianism and demand government protection from “Indian and Pakistani H-1Bs.”

Any outplacement firm will tell you: People tend to hire people like themselves. Job seekers are advised to be as much like the hiring manager as possible. When you’re on the other side of the desk, interviewing job applicants, do you notice skin color first when the applicant isn’t pale (assuming that like most IT managers you are)? That doesn’t make you a racist — classifying others as my-group/not-my-group is probably an inherited predisposition. Still, it puts not-my-group at an automatic disadvantage.

As a hiring manager, you have an obligation to suppress this natural tendency. You’re supposed to hire the best applicant, not the one whose appearance is most comfortable.

That’s business. There’s social fallout too. Because no matter how often the tiresome phrase “playing the race card” is used to wave away these issues, disparities between races in this country are growing … no matter how little “racial” actually means.

As I mature (or maybe just age) I increasingly divide the world into things-that-are-my-problem and things-that-aren’t-my-problem. Earning enough to pay my share of the mortgage and groceries is my problem. Figuring out how other people should live their lives isn’t my problem.

Keeping close track of what isn’t my problem has proved to be a wonderful stress reducer. Sadly, while this has worked very well for me personally, it isn’t an attitude that scales very well. Whether the subject is foreign policy or running an IT organization, any number of not-my-problem subjects turn into my-problem subjects with distressing but predictable frequency.

Foreign policy I generally leave to others, at least until a round or two of some conversational lubricant increases my perspicuity and persuasiveness. How to run IT is another matter.

And when you run IT, trying to make anything that happens in the enterprise not-your-problem is suicidal. One way or another, it all ends up on your desk.

Boiled down to its essentials, traditional IT is composed of operations, which runs the applications already in place; and programming, which develops, installs, customizes, integrates and maintains business applications. IT operations is, of course, entirely about supporting the rest of the business. As for programming …

If there ever was such a thing as a programming project, there isn’t anymore. Projects are always about business change. And while business change requires information technology, it’s merely a necessary condition for success, not a sufficient one. If nobody thinks through how the business should operate differently, new technology just won’t accomplish very much.

Which leaves IT with two choices: Include how the business should operate differently among the things-that-are-my-problem, or become a disinterested supplier to the rest of the business, content to deliver software that on paper adheres to the specifications regardless of whether it actually does something important.

Just an opinion: You’re better off choosing the former, largely because if you don’t, business change won’t happen and you’ll get the blame no matter what really went wrong. And you should. “The software worked. It isn’t our fault if they didn’t use it,” is, after all, an awfully flaccid excuse.

Business change only happens if someone is responsible for making it happen. IT is where the entire company’s operations meet in one place.

So if IT doesn’t take responsibility for business change, who will?