I don’t consider myself that ancient, but I sure felt that way a few days ago. Our on-site networking guru was laughing about an email she’d received from someone who was looking for a router that was MS-DOS compatible. One of our younger analysts (in the interests of protecting her reputation, I’ll call her “Sarah”) followed up by asking, in absolute earnestness, “What’s DOS?”

Just like that, I felt like I had transformed into someone born in 1795. I didn’t have a cane handy, but if I had, I’m sure I would have started waving it at my coworkers and screaming at them to get off my lawn. (Or, more likely given where I work, my WLAN.)

After a few minutes, my bewildered rage disappeared and I managed to think a bit more clearly. It occurred to me that, on some level, Sarah’s reaction shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. DOS, after all, in its traditionally understood form at any rate, hasn’t been a part of most computer users’ lives since well before we plunged into the 2000s, and it had been heavily on the wane since the release of Windows 95 pounded the final nail in the coffin of mainstream command line interfaces.

But just as I expect all Americans to have a working knowledge of our country’s own history — who George Washington was and what he did, the events that led to the framing of the Declaration of Independence, the importance of the Constitution, and so on — I also think it’s vital for those who are serious about technology to have a strong understanding of where we’ve come from. So if Sarah’s response was justified from her perspective, my exasperated incredulity was from mine as well.

I remain convinced that a strong background in the tools and techniques you needed to use in the DOS days still have a place in our GUI-driven culture. Aside from obvious things, like using the command prompt to get extensive directory listings or deal with detailed network settings in reasonable ways, not being afraid to edit (or at least look at) system files, tweaking settings, and compiling and editing batch files are still worthwhile. A solid majority of users can get along without them, true, but if you remember the days when they were your sole interaction with the computer, your perspective on all they can offer you is a lot different. And, to me, richer. Because it means you own your computer at the deepest possible level. You’re in full control of it — you’re not at its mercy — and that’s exactly the way things should be.

This also reinforces what I wrote last week about the necessary role of systems like the Raspberry Pi: Computers have evolved to such a point that even people who should know better secretly think they might screw them up. When I had to shove my way through my colleagues gaping at the Raspberry Pi setup I’d thrown together, I had to notice the dumbstruck looks on their faces — many of them had either never been faced with a command line before, or had forgotten the power it bestows upon the user. As amazed as they were by this ancient interface on a ruthlessly modern $35 no-frills computer, none of them was able (or, if I give them the benefit of the doubt, willing) to use it. To my mind, that’s not progress.

Next page: Old man Murray