I've been thinking a lot about this phrase lately: "Your thoughts shape your reality." I think it's from a Buddhist teaching but I'm not sure because I read it as a second-hand quote somewhere that I can't recall right now.
I'm also familiar with the tester's lament: "hey, I didn't put the bug in the code, I just report it."
But what about the phrase: "if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" That one has always annoyed me. The way I see it, the answer to the question depends mostly on how you define what a sound is. If a sound requires a listener to be real, then, no, no sound was made.
What about a bug? If there is a bug in the software but no one encounters it, is there really a bug in the software?
Now, I report bugs. A lot of bugs. I employ many creative and imaginative tricks to find them. They love me. They come to me even when I don't expect it. One of the tricks I use is to change my perspective on how I look at software. I also exploit vague areas, or areas of doubt within the development team, development processes or methods of communication. For example, if it looks like there might be some vague statement in a specification that could be confusing or interpreted in different ways, I'm pretty confident there will be lots of bugs there.
But hold on. What if I don't go looking for the bugs? What if I don't report them and no customer ever sees the problem or complains about it? Does the bug really exist?
Or does the mere act of identifying this discrepancy between intention and execution create the entity that I call a bug? Did I create it or was it already there?
Scenario: A spec-writer wrote a document that was interpreted in some way by one or more programmers. According to their interpretation, the implementation (the software) is working as intended. They check that their code measures up to their understanding (unit testing?) and then build the software into a deliverable product.
Then along comes a tester. A tester looks at it in a completely different way and suddenly the software is full of bugs. But wait a minute! The bugs weren't there until someone looked and said they were there.
This reminds me of Schrödinger's cat. Is the cat alive? Is it dead? Is it both alive and dead, or neither? You have to look to find out, but once you've looked you've changed everything. What a psych trip!
So, what if finding bugs falls into the same category? In that case, the mere act of observing has changed the reality of what's in the box. By looking inside and asking the question, we have shaped the reality by our thoughts.
Doesn't that mean that we have therefore created the bugs that we report? The programmers didn't put the bugs there. They interpreted the specs and design documents according to their thoughts and shaped the software according to their reality. They built no bugs.
The bugs were called into existence when we, the testers, said they were there with our mind tricks and clever tools.
The bug report, therefore, is just a record of how we have reshaped reality with our thoughts in a way that is different from how reality looked before we started testing. We created those bugs in the bug reports.
One might argue, then, that if you make the bug reports go away you make the bugs go away. If no one (customer) sees the bug, does it really exist?
That's a change in perspective from what I was taught about testing. I don't report bugs. I create them!
