May, 1997

Dear ICE Subscriber:

The problem that faces any representative is that he must interpret reality on behalf of those whom he represents. He must also formulate strategies. Both tasks involve persuasion. He has to convince those whom he represents that his diagnosis and plan of action are correct.

Those who are comfortable with their present situation are not happy with any message of imminent bad times. When they hear such a message, they are tempted to interpret the message in terms of the messenger's poor information or incorrect analysis. In the worst situations, they fire the representative. This is called shooting the messenger.

And Micaiah said, As the LORD liveth, what the LORD saith unto me, that will I speak. So he came to the king. And the king said unto him, Micaiah, shall we go against Ramoth-gilead to battle, or shall we forbear? And he answered him, Go, and prosper: for the LORD shall deliver it into the hand of the king. And the king said unto him, How many times shall I adjure thee that thou tell me nothing but that which is true in the name of the LORD? And he said, I saw all Israel scattered upon the hills, as sheep that have not a shepherd: and the LORD said, These have no master: let them return every man to his house in peace. And the king of Israel said unto Jehoshaphat, Did I not tell thee that he would prophesy no good concerning me, but evil? . . . And the king of Israel said, Take Micaiah, and carry him back unto Amon the governor of the city, and to Joash the king's son (I Kings 22:14-18, 26).

Shooting the messenger leads to an increased supply of happy messages. But when reality comes into conflict with happy messages, those who believed the happy messages suffer losses. I think of Neville Chamberlain's happy message in 1938: "Peace in our time." He is today known for nothing else but the Munich agreement and this phrase. Whatever accomplishments he may have had in his public career, he is remembered for this phrase, and for then being driven out of office by his colleagues after the war began.

For example, if you bring the story of Christ's salvation to a man who is going to hell, you must persuade him first that he is going to hell if he refuses to accept the gospel. He must become Christ's servant; otherwise, he will remain Adam's servant. Salvation means deliverance from hell. It means more than this, but this is the famous bottom line. Christ suffered God's negative sanctions as a representative of His people. As a representative of Christ, you come to some person and tell the story.

The person may be disturbed on hearing this. He surely should be. If he starts thinking carefully about the costs of not accepting Christ as his representative, he may become agitated. His behavior may be affected. It should be. Meanwhile, his wife is upset with his new concerns. She is not concerned with the truth of the message. She is upset with the effects of the message on him. His life has been disrupted. If he chooses a new way of life, her life will be disrupted. She does not want her life to be disrupted.

What is her best approach? To disparage the messenger and the message. She does not want to examine the truth of the message. That would be too much trouble. Besides, it might disrupt her. It is far easier to dismiss the messenger and the message.

The risk with this approach is that the message may be true. There are sanctions in life. Lot's wife looked back and suffered the consequences. Job's wife said, "Curse God and die," becoming infamous down through the ages. Lot ignored his wife. Job ignored his wife. Both men survived. Mrs. Lot didn't.

The Subordinate's Problem

The problem for subordinates who find out bad news is that they may suffer the consequences of becoming messengers — bringers of bad news. They may hesitate to do this. Mainframe computer specialists knew about this problem a generation ago. They said nothing. Some of their successors knew in the 1980's. They said nothing. The senior staffers in charge of Citicorp's computer information systems only informed the president of the company about the Year 2000 Problem in late 1995. Chairman John Reed was told that Citicorp has 400 million lines of computer code, any line of which may be corrupt. The computer people estimate that between 5% and 10% of the code must be repaired — a wide range of 100%. (See Investor's Business Daily, Feb. 12.) This means that Citicorp may have as many as 40 million lines of bad code.

Let's put this in perspective. Social Security has 30 million lines of code. To go through these lines and make repairs on 6 million lines, 400 programmers working part time took five years: 1991 to June, 1996. Citicorp may have more lines of actual bad code than Social Security had in total. But Citicorp's time frame is much, much shorter.

Chase Manhattan Bank has 200 million lines of code. ("Time Bomb!" Software Magazine, March, 1997.) As for Sumitomo, Daiwa, and the other huge Japanese banks, no one is saying — not in English, anyway. And surely not in print. Meanwhile, the Federal Reserve System is conducting an assessment to see how bad its problem is. (Federal Reserve Bank of Atlanta, Financial Update, Oct.-Dec. 1996, p. 3.) What if it's bad? What if it's catastrophic? What if it can't be fixed in time? (Count on this. Plan for this.)

If the world's banks start going down in the year 2000 — assuming that panic-driven bank runs have not accomplished this in 1999 — you may decide to phone your Congressman. Problem: AT&T has 500 million lines of code. Sprint has 100 million lines. MCI isn't saying. (Computerworld, Nov. 11, 1996.) What if there is no dial tone? If there is a dial tone because code problems are mainly with billing, how will you pay your phone bill if your bank is gone? For that matter, how will your Congressman get paid? Or you?

Are you now getting some inkling of what I have been writing about over the last few months? The worst-case scenario is pretty clear: the collapse of the international division of labor. Think of this as Albania with no Italy to flee to.

Because you are on ICE's mailing list, you now have a problem. It's called responsibility. Let me quote the Bible: "But he that knew not, and did commit things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes. For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required: and to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more" (Luke 12:48). You know more about y2k than most people. What will you do now?

Denial

You can dismiss the message. There are several approaches. "It just won't get that bad." (Then how bad will it get?) "I'm not dependent on a computer." (What about your suppliers?) "Somebody will think of something." (And will put the solution under a pillow in the Lincoln Bedroom of the White House.) "I'll think about it tomorrow." (Then you will have one day less to take evasive action.) "I'm too busy to think about this." (You'll have plenty of spare time after 1999.) "Nobody I know is worried about this." (Neither were the people who lived in Chernobyl.) "Since there is no solution for everyone, there is no solution for me." (There were too few lifeboats on the Titanic, but there were some.)

Denial faces every messenger who brings really bad news. Bad news is sometimes acceptable to those in authority, but it must be bad news that is manageable. It must be within the bounds of acceptable bad news. He who brings bad news that is outside these boundaries risks incurring negative sanctions, as Micaiah no doubt knew in advance.

I recently read a very good article about the management problem associated with the Millennium Bug. The author cited a programmer friend. "I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they whiz by." Managers are today in denial. The deadline is fixed. Any whooshing sound we hear will be from collapsing institutions.

Unlike any worldwide crisis since Noah's flood (Gen. 6:3), this one can be dated well in advance. The only reasonable question today is the magnitude of this crisis. That there will be major disruptions, no full-time mainframe programmer denies. Among those professionals with knowledge of the programming task, and far more important, the managerial task, there are large differences of opinion as to how devastating these disruptions will be. My views are on the inner side of the outer edge of acceptable discourse.

I have created a Web site with links to documents on the Year 2000 Problem. I have also added my comments. You can access my Web site at http://www.remnant.org

I mentioned this last month, and I will mention it next month. I have posted evidence for what I have been writing. It is not irrefutable evidence. It is incomplete. It will remain incomplete until 2000. We will not see a senior official of any computer-dependent organization who goes to the press and announces anything like the following:

This problem cannot be solved. Our organization can spend $1 per line of code to get our programs repaired — probably going to $3 within two years — but this will do us no good. Most of our suppliers will not be compliant. The West's military will not be compliant. No national taxing authority will be compliant. The banking system will not be compliant. The phone companies will not be compliant. The railway system will not be compliant. Why should this organization spend a fortune to repair our computers, when the rest of the world cannot possibly complete the fixes? However great or small the magnitude of this problem will turn out to be, for this organization to spend money on it now would be foolish — a waste of scarce resources.

Then he quits his job and moves to a small town in Northwest Arkansas. Am I'm exaggerating? A programmer friend of mine who runs a company that advises large firms on how to make the repairs is moving there no later than this September. He had planned to delay the move until September of 1998, but he thinks that's pushing it. So do I.

A corporate entity that my wife and I direct has purchased a house on 8 acres in Northwest Arkansas. I will be moving ICE's research office to Arkansas before the end of this summer. I bought two tons of food from Walton Feed last month. Next step: a pair of power systems based on diesel/natural gas generators and batteries. Before the end of the year, ICE's Texas production and shipping facilities will be on a 50-acre property located five miles outside the Tyler city limits. Do I take the Millennium Bug seriously? Yes.

How seriously should you take it? Let me quote from an e-mail letter from the programmer who is moving to Arkansas. He is a Christian who has spent 20 years programming mainframe computers. He has assured me that there is no way to get the world's computers compliant in time to avoid a disaster. I asked him how serious this disaster will be. His response: "Be afraid. Be very afraid."

You now have a responsibility that cannot be avoided. You should begin to examine the evidence that supports my warning. If you refuse to do this, you're in denial. In fact, you're so deep in denial that you might as well be the president of a large Japanese bank.

Sincerely yours,