“We have to plan for the future,” a systems executive told me recently. Well yes, that’s probably far more useful than planning for the past or present. It is, however, much harder.

Two weeks ago we explored the subject of worthless statistics and the odd preference so many people have for bad information over unbiased ignorance. (See “Pie charts and bar charts may bring comfort, but wisdom is another matter,” May 5, page 74.)

This week we talk about forecasting, an activity that fulfills the need many people have to know and plan for the future. Throughout history that need has created professions and industries. In the earliest days, the tools of the forecaster’s trade were tea leaves, entrails, the Zodiac, and crystal balls. More recently, tools like Doppler radar and computer simulations have been added to the arsenal.

Forecasting hasn’t improved much, but forecasting tools sure have. (A recent article in the local newspaper compared the performance of the National Weather Service, television meteorologists, and a guy who predicts the weather using a combination of Radio Shack gear and homemade tools. The backyard hobbyist won by a wide margin.)

And that brings us to the most pernicious forecasting tool yet devised: the market survey. How many articles have you read in this and other reputable journals presenting some industry forecast or other in which the future is presented as a fact: “Within five years, the market for bubble memory will grow to over $5 billion”?

Oops. Bubble memory flopped. It must have been personal digital assistants I was thinking of.

The accuracy of both market and weather forecasting begins to plummet beyond about one day into the future for the same reason: The systems we’re trying to predict are chaotic. And although the mathematics of chaos theory are daunting, one of its basic conclusions is pretty straightforward: When systems (actually, nonlinear systems) reach a certain level of complexity you can’t predict their future state very well.

Now what’s involved in predicting a future market? Oh, just the behavior of large numbers of individual humans. If someone would just invent Isaac Asimov’s psychohistory we could get somewhere.

Market surveys seem so scientific. But what are they really asking? “Do you expect to implement Windows NT Advanced Server in your enterprise within the next three years?”

Now who’s going to answer with an unequivocal “no?” We’re talking about a Microsoft product and a three-year planning horizon. And what does “implement” mean? Replace Novell’s NetWare? Or install a test server? Forecasts of NT Advanced Server sales have no value because there are unpredictable factors involved: Will Microsoft ship the next release on time? Will it have any crippling bugs? Will Bill Gates burn out, causing all of Microsoft’s customers to lose confidence? Will the sun turn nova and wipe out my capital-procurement budget?

Not that I want to single out NT Advanced Server. Whether it’s network computers or wireless data communication, any innovative technology just entering the market faces too many imponderables for forecasts to mean much. Why? Because market success depends as much on unanticipated details as on the basic ideas. Is the advertising campaign exceptionally stupid? Has innovation extended the life of a moribund technology? Did the designer misread the market?

So don’t let forecasts paraded as facts serve as a substitute for your own insight. Except, of course, for the enlightened predictions of your friendly IS Survival Guide soothsayer.

Satire alert

A few weeks ago, I expressed some concern about the Software Publishers Association’s and the Business Software Alliance’s admission that they inflate their software piracy estimates. (See “The Romans had some words for it,” April 7.) Some alert InfoWorld readers told me that the admission was a joke, originally published in the San Jose Mercury News and later picked up as fact elsewhere. By the time I read it in Edupage, the humor had been removed and it looked legitimate.

So here’s the situation: The numbers are still suspect for all the reasons expressed in the satire, but the SPA and BSA haven’t admitted it after all.

An old bit of folk wisdom warns you to be careful what you ask for, because you might get it.

Those of us who have worked in the trenches of PC support have fallen into this trap. Up to our eyeballs in frustration with end-users who want to know no more about how PCs work than they do about their cars, we wish they’d become just a bit more technically literate., and actually want to know about the remarkable technology we’ve put in front of them.

And what do we do when we get our wish? Complain about those irresponsible power users who insist on loading lots of non-standard software packages onto their computers, making support a nightmare while creating huge numbers of undocumented departmental applications we “just know we’re going to be asked to support”.

As the White Queen said in Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass, “Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” So do we, Alice.

So you’re a PC analyst and you think you have problems? Let’s take it up a few levels and see how the same situation plays out at the executive level. CIOs have griped for years that company executives don’t want to understand technology, don’t want to know about it, don’t view it as a strategic resource, and don’t want to understand why IS costs so much. We’ve begged senior executives to become more technically literate.

Well guess what, sports fans … we got our wish. According to a recent A.T. Kearney survey, the vast majority of CEOs feel comfortable dealing with technology issues, most have a working knowledge of the ones in use within their companies, and nearly half spend up to a half day each week learning about “relevant technologies”.

Life just isn’t fair. After years of CIOs believing business knowledge is more important than technical literacy, along come these “Power-User Executives” (PUEs) running in the opposite direction. (And does this mean an EIS must sport a PUE GUI?)

I’m guessing quite a few companies have PUEs with a better handle on how technology can advance their business strategy than their Technically Illiterate CIO (TICIO).

PC analysts can give TICIOs some good advice on how to handle this challenge.

When a PC analyst interacts with a power user, the analyst has to simultaneously respect the power user’s knowledge – business and technical – and to demonstrate dimensions of expertise beyond what the power user knows. “What you’re doing with Excel is really very good,” you might say. “Have you considered converting it to Access? This looks like it would work even better as a database. You could turn it into something that’s really cool, and that the whole department could share.”

CIOs need to do the same thing with PUEs. Respect their insights and knowledge of technology: “You’re right – Domino would be a great tool to help us communicate more effectively with our business partners. Projects like these get complicated in three areas: figuring out the intercorporate networking, agreeing on content responsibilities across the two separate company structures, and actually changing everyone’s behavior so they use it. Let’s start pulling a team together to look at how to make it happen.”

You have to both acknowledge your user’s expertise and extend it. Otherwise you’re just a bottleneck, getting between executives and the resources they need to get their projects done. And they’ll wonder how you can be leading IS when they know more than you do about technology.

Everyone in leadership manages relationships in four directions: up (to the boss), down (to staff), left (to service recipients), and right (to peers). Most of us master only two of these. If you’re focused on career advancement, you usually look up and to the right. If, on the other hand, you’re looking to actually succeed at your job you look down and left.

As CEOs gain sophisticated understanding of technology, the technically illiterate CIO will find him or herself trapped in a shrinking circle of organizational irrelevance, creating no value in any direction.