Linux-Advocacy Digest #317, Volume #26           Sun, 30 Apr 00 08:13:07 EDT

Contents:
  TYPING ERRORS (MK)

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From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] (MK)
Subject: TYPING ERRORS
Date: Sun, 30 Apr 2000 12:00:09 GMT


 The standard typewriter keyboard is Exhibit A in the hottest new case 
 against markets. But the evidence has been cooked.

 By Stan Liebowitz and Stephen E. Margolis 

 Like a modern horror movie villain who keeps coming back from the 
 dead, a false story can take on a life of its own: Eskimos have hundreds of 
 words for snow, Millard Fillmore ordered the first bathtub for the White 
 House, that sort of thing. Even after they are shown to be false, some 
 stories are repeated, embellished, and occasionally built into entire belief 
 systems. These fictions may ordinarily be little more than curiosities or 
 mere affronts to our concern for the truth. But our concern here is with one 
 such story that is put forward as part of a case against the effectiveness of 
 free markets and individual choice. This story has consequences.

  Our story concerns the history of the standard typewriter keyboard, 
 commonly known as QWERTY, and its more recent rival, the Dvorak 
 keyboard. Pick up the February 19 edition of Newsweek and there is Steve 
 Wozniak, the engineering wunderkind largely responsible for Apple's 
 early success, explaining that Apple's recent failures were just another 
 example of a better product losing out to an inferior alternative: "Like the 
 Dvorak keyboard, Apple's superior operating system lost the 
 market-share war." Ignoring for the moment the fact that just about all 
 computer users now use sleek graphical operating systems much like the 
 Mac's graphical interface (itself taken from Xerox), Wozniak cannot be 
 blamed for repeating the keyboard story. It is commonly reported as fact 
 in newspapers, magazines, and academic journals. An article in the 
 January 1996 Harvard Law Review, for example, invokes the typewriter 
 keyboard as support for a thesis that pure luck is responsible for winners 
 and losers, and that our expectation of survival of the fittest should be 
 replaced by survival of the luckiest. 

 But this is just the tip of the iceberg. In the Los Angeles Times, Steve 
 Steinburg writes, regarding the adoption of an Internet standard, "[I]t's all 
 too likely to be the wrong standard. From Qwerty vs. Dvorak keyboards, 
 to Beta vs. VHS cassettes, history shows that market share and technical 
 superiority are rarely related." In The Independent, Hamish McRae 
 discusses the likelihood of "lock-in" to inferior standards. He notes the 
 Beta and VHS competition as well as some others, then adds, "Another 
 example is MS-DOS, but perhaps the best of all is the QWERTY keyboard. 
 This was designed to slow down typists...." In Fortune, Tim Smith repeats 
 the claim that QWERTY was intended to slow down typists, and then 
 notes, "Perhaps the stern test of the marketplace produces results more 
 capricious than we like to think."

  In a feature series, Steven Pearlstein of The Washington Post presents at 
 great length the argument that modern markets, particularly those linked 
 to networks, are likely to be dominated by just a few firms. After 
 introducing readers to Brian Arthur, one of the leading academic 
 advocates of the view that lock-in is a problem, he states, "The Arthurian 
 discussion of networks usually begins at the typewriter keyboard." Other 
 prominent appearances of the QWERTY story are found in TheNew York 
 Times, The Sunday Observer, The Boston Globe, and broadcast on PBS's News 
 Hour with Jim Lehrer. It can even be found in the Encyclopaedia Britannica as 
 evidence of how human inertia can result in the choice of an inferior 
 product. The story can be found in two very successful economics books 
 written for laymen: Robert Frank and Philip Cook's The Winner-Take-All 
 Society and Paul Krugman's Peddling Prosperity, where an entire chapter 
 is devoted to the "economics of QWERTY."

  Why is the keyboard story receiving so much attention from such a 
 variety of sources? The answer is that it is the centerpiece of a theory that 
 argues that market winners will only by the sheerest of coincidences be the 
 best of the available alternatives. By this theory, the first technology that 
 attracts development, the first standard that attracts adopters, or the first 
 product that attracts consumers will tend to have an insurmountable 
 advantage, even over superior rivals that happen to come along later. 
 Because first on the scene is not necessarily the best, a logical conclusion 
 would seem to be that market choices aren't necessarily good ones. So, for 
 example, proponents of this view argue that although the Beta video 
 recording format was better than VHS, Beta lost out because of bad luck 
 and quirks of history that had nothing much to do with the products 
 themselves. (Some readers who recall that Beta was actually first on the 
 scene will immediately recognize a problem with this example.)

  These ideas come to us from an academic literature concerned with "path 
 dependence." The doctrine of path dependence starts with the observation 
 that the past influences the future. This conclusion is hard to quibble with, 
 although it also seems to lack much novelty. It simply recognizes that 
 some things are durable. But path dependence is transformed into a far 
 more dramatic theory by the additional claim that the past so strongly 
 influences the future that we become "locked in" to choices that are no 
 longer appropriate. This is the juicy version of the theory, and the version 
 that implies that markets cannot be trusted. Stanford University economic 
 historian Paul David, in the article that introduced the QWERTY story to 
 the economics literature, offers this example of the strong claim: 
 "Competition in the absence of perfect futures markets drove the industry 
 prematurely into standardization on the wrong system where 
 decentralized decision making subsequently has sufficed to hold it."

  According to this body of theory, if, for example, DOS is the first 
 operating system, then improvements such as the Macintosh will fail 
 because consumers are so locked in to DOS that they will not make the 
 switch to the better system (Rush Limbaugh falls for this one). The success 
 of Intel-based computers, in this view, is a tragic piece of bad luck. To 
 accept this view, of course, we need to ignore the fact that DOS was not the 
 first operating system, that consumers did switch away from DOS when 
 they moved to Windows, that the DOS system was an appropriate choice 
 for many users given the hardware of the time, and that the Mac was far 
 more expensive. Also, a switch to Mac required that we throw out a lot of 
 DOS hardware, where the switch to Windows did not, something that is 
 not an irrelevant social concern. 

 A featured result of these theories is that merely knowing what path 
 would be best would not help you to predict where the market will move. 
 In this view of the world, we will too often get stuck, or locked in, on a 
 wrong path. Luck rules, not efficiency.

  Most advocates of this random-selection view do not claim that 
 everything has been pure chance, since that would be so easy to disprove. 
 After all, how likely would it be that consecutive random draws would 
 have increased our standard of living for so long with so few 
 interruptions? Instead, we are told that luck plays a larger role in the 
 success of high-technology products than for older products. A clear 
 example of this argument is a 1990 Brian Arthur article in Scientific 
 American. Arthur there distinguishes between a new economics of 
 "knowledge based" technologies, which are supposedly fraught with 
 increasing returns, and the old economics of "resource based" technologies 
 (for example, farming, mining, building), which supposedly were not. 
 "Increasing returns" (or "scale economies") means that conducting an 
 activity on a larger scale may allow lower costs, or better products, or 
 both. 

 Traditional concepts of scale economies applied to production--the more 
 steel you made, the more cheaply you could make each additional ton, 
 because fixed costs can be spread. Much of the path-dependence literature 
 is concerned with economies of consumption, where a good becomes 
 cheaper or more valuable to the consumer as more other people also have 
 it; if lots of people have DOS computers, then more software will be 
 available for such machines, for instance, which makes DOS computers 
 better for consumers. This sort of "network externality" is even more 
 important when literal networks are involved, as with phones or fax 
 machines, where the value of the good depends in part on how many 
 other people you can connect to.

  What Arthur and others assert is that path dependence is an affliction 
 associated with technologies that exhibit increasing returns--that once a 
 product has an established network it is almost impossible for a new 
 product to displace it. Thus, as society gets more advanced 
 technologically, luck will play a larger and larger role. The logical chain is

 that new technologies exhibit increasing returns, and technologies with 
 increasing returns exhibit path dependence. Of the last link in that chain, 
 Arthur notes: "[O]nce random economic events select a particular path, the 
 choice may become locked-in regardless of the advantages of the 
 alternatives."

  This pessimism about the effectiveness of markets suggests a relative 
 optimism about the potential for government action. It would be only 
 reasonable to expect, for example, that panels of experts would do better 
 at choosing products than would random chance. Similarly, to address the 
 kinds of concerns raised in Frank and Cook's Winner-Take-All Society, the 
 inequalities in incomes that arise in these new-technology markets could 
 be removed harmlessly, since inequalities arise only as a matter of luck in 
 the first place. It does not seem an unimaginable stretch to the conclusion 
 that if the government specifies, in advance, the race and sex of market 
 winners, no harm would be done since the winners in the market would 
 have been a randomly chosen outcome anyway.

  Theories of path dependence and their supporting mythology have begun 
 to exert an influence on policy. Last summer, an amicus brief on the 
 Microsoft consent decree used lock-in arguments, including the QWERTY 
 story, and apparently prompted Judge Stanley Sporkin to refuse to ratify 
 the decree. (He was later overturned.) Arguments against Microsoft's 
 ill-fated attempt to acquire Intuit also relied on allegations of lock-in.
Carl 
 Shapiro, one of the leading contributors to this literature, recently took a 
 senior position in the antitrust division of the Justice Department. These 
 arguments have even surfaced in presidential politics, when President 
 Clinton began referring to a "winner-take-all society."

  Stanford University economist Paul Krugman offered the central claim of 
 this literature boldly and with admirable simplicity: "In QWERTY worlds, 
 markets can't be trusted." The reason that he uses "QWERTY worlds," and 
 not DOS worlds, or VHS worlds, is that the DOS and VHS examples are 
 not very compelling. Almost no one uses DOS anymore, and many video 
 recorder purchasers thought VHS was better than Beta (as it was, in terms 
 of recording time, as we have discussed at length elsewhere). 

 The theories of path dependence that percolate through the academic 
 literature show the possibility of this form of market ineptitude within the 
 context of highly stylized theoretical models. But before these theories are 
 translated into public policy, there really had better be some good 
 supporting examples. After all, these theories fly in the face of hundreds of 
 years of rapid technological progress. Recently we have seen PCs replace 
 mainframes, computers replace typewriters, fax machines replace the 
 mails for many purposes, DOS replace CP/M, Windows replace DOS, and 
 on and on.

  The typewriter keyboard is central to this literature because it appears to 
 be the single best example where luck caused an inferior product to defeat 
 a demonstrably superior product. It is an often repeated story that is 
 generally believed to be true. Interestingly, the typewriter story, though 
 charming, is also false.



 The Fable

 The operative patent for the typewriter was awarded in 1868 to 
 Christopher Latham Sholes. Sholes and his associates experimented with 
 various keyboard designs, in part to solve the problem of the jamming of 
 the keys. The result of these efforts is the common QWERTY keyboard 
 (named for the letters in the upper left hand row). It is frequently claimed 
 that the keyboard was actually configured to reduce typing speed, since 
 that would have been one way to avoid the jamming of the typewriter.

  The rights to the Sholes patent were sold to E. Remington & Sons in early 
 1873. Remington added further mechanical improvements and began 
 commercial production in late 1873. Other companies arose and produced 
 their own keyboard designs to compete with Remington. Overall sales 
 grew, but slowly.

  A watershed event in the received version of the QWERTY story is a 
 typing contest held in Cincinnati on July 25, 1888. Frank McGurrin, a court 
 stenographer from Salt Lake City who was purportedly the only person 
 using touch typing at the time, won a decisive victory over Louis Taub. 
 Taub used the hunt-and-peck method on a Caligraph, a machine with an 
 alternative arrangement of keys. McGurrin's machine, as luck would have 
 it, just happened to be a QWERTY machine.

  According to popular history, the event established once and for all that 
 the Remington typewriter, with its QWERTY keyboard, was technically 
 superior. Wilfred Beeching's influential history of the keyboard mentions 
 the Cincinnati contest and attaches great importance to it: "Suddenly, to 
 their horror, it dawned upon both the Remington company and the 
 Caligraph company officials, torn between pride and despair, that 
 whoever won was likely to put the other out of business!" Beeching refers 
 to the contest as having established the Remington machine "once and for 
 all." Since no one else at that time had learned touch typing, owners of 
 alternative keyboards found it impossible to counter the claim that 
 Remington's QWERTY keyboard arrangement was the most efficient.

  So, according to this popular telling, McGurrin's fluke choice of the 
 Remington keyboard, a keyboard designed to solve a particular 
 mechanical problem, became the very poor standard used daily by 
 millions of typists.

  Fast forward now to 1936, when August Dvorak, a professor at the 
 University of Washington, patented the Dvorak Simplified Keyboard. 
 Dvorak claimed to have experimental evidence that his keyboard 
 provided advantages of greater speed, reduced fatigue, and easier 
 learning. These claims were buttressed when, during World War II, the 
 U.S. Navy conducted experiments demonstrating that the cost of 
 converting typists to the Dvorak keyboard would be repaid, through 
 increased typing speed, within 10 days from the end of training. Despite 
 these claims, however, the Dvorak keyboard has never found much 
 acceptance.

  In many regards this is an ideal example. The dimensions of performance 
 are few, and in these dimensions the Dvorak keyboard appears to be 
 overwhelmingly superior. The failure to choose the Dvorak keyboard 
 certainly seems to demonstrate that something is amiss. On top of all that, 
 it's a charming tale that is easy to tell, and the moral seems easy to find.

  Unfortunately, what is amiss here is not the market choice, but the tale 
 itself. The standard telling of this story turns out to be false in almost 
 every important respect.



 Tainted Evidence for Dvorak

 The belief that the Dvorak keyboard is superior to QWERTY can be traced 
 to a few key sources. A book published by Dvorak and several co-authors 
 in 1936 presented Dvorak's own investigations, which might charitably be 
 called less than objective. Their book has the feel of a late-night television

 infomercial rather than scientific work. Consider this from their chapter 
 about relative keyboard performance:

  "The bare recital to you of a few simple facts should suffice to indict the 
 available spatial pattern that is so complacently entitled the universal 
 [QWERTY] keyboard. Since when was the universe lopsided? The facts 
 will not be stressed, since you may finally surmount most of the ensuing 
 handicaps of this [QWERTY] keyboard. Just enough facts will be paraded 
 to lend you double assurance that for many of the errors that you will 
 inevitably make and for much of the discouraging delay you will 
 experience in longed-for speed gains, you are not to blame. If you grow 
 indignant over the beginner's role of innocent victim, remember that a 
 little emotion heightens determination. Analysis of the present keyboard 
 is so destructive that an improved arrangement is a modern imperative. 
 Isn't it obvious that faster, more accurate, less fatiguing typing can be 
 attained in much less learning time provided a simplified keyboard is 
 taught?" Unfortunately, their statement that they will not stress the facts 
 appears truthful.

  Dvorak and his co-authors claimed that their studies established that 
 students learn Dvorak faster than they learn QWERTY. But they compared 
 students of different ages and abilities (for example, students learning 
 Dvorak in grades 7 and 8 at the University of Chicago Lab School were 
 compared with students learning QWERTY in conventional high schools), 
 in different school systems, taking different tests in classes that met for 
 different lengths of time. One doesn't need to be a scientist to realize that 
 such comparisons are not the stuff of controlled experiments. Even in their 
 studies, however, the evidence is mixed as to whether students learning 
 Dvorak retain an advantage, since the differences seemed to diminish as 
 training progressed.

  But it is the Navy study that is the basis for the more extravagant claims of

 Dvorak's advocates. That is the study that supposedly established that the 
 entire retraining cost is recaptured 10 days after the start of retraining.

  Since several academic authors, including Paul David, have made 
 reference to this Navy study, we assumed it would not be too difficult to 
 find. But when we started to look for it, it seemed to have disappeared 
 from the face of the earth. After trying our own libraries, we tried the Navy 
 Library, the Martin Luther King Library, the Library of Congress, the 
 National Archives, the National Technical Communication Service, and so 
 forth. The librarians were more helpful than we had any right to expect, 
 but the results of their efforts seemed to indicate that we would not find 
 the Navy study.

  Had any of the modern authors who referred to the Navy study as 
 supporting Dvorak's keyboard ever actually read it? This appears to be 
 one of those cases in which one author relies on another's account, who in 
 turn is relying on another's, and so on, without any of them reading the 
 original. Yet the Navy study is a primary source of many of the claims for 
 the Dvorak keyboard. This is certainly not a high watermark in 
 scholarship.

  We had about given up hope when we located a copy of the study held 
 by an organization called Dvorak International, headquartered in the attic 
 of a farmhouse in Vermont. The report does not list the authors. The 
 report's foreword states that two prior experiments had been conducted 
 but that "the first two groups were not truly fair tests." This certainly 
 raised our suspicions. Might those earlier tests have been ignored because 
 the results were inconsistent with the results the authors desired? This 
 suspicion was later reinforced when we read about a 1953 study for the 
 Australian Post Office. In the early phases of the Australian study, the 
 experiments showed no advantages for Dvorak. But then adjustments 
 were made in the test procedure to "remove psychological impediments to 
 superior performance." We can only guess how the proponents of the 
 Dvorak keyboard, who conducted the experiments, might have removed 
 those nasty impediments.

  As to the experimental design of the Navy study, we can only state that if 
 the experimental controls seemed bad in the early studies authored by 
 Dvorak and his associates, the Navy study seems even worse.

  First, 14 Navy typists were retrained on newly overhauled Dvorak 
 typewriters for two hours a day. We are not told how the typists were 
 chosen, although we are told that they had initial typing speeds of 32 
 words per minute, well below the Navy's standard of competence. Yet in 
 spite of their poor typing skills, the typists had IQs only two points below 
 average and dexterity skills 15 points above average. Based on these 
 abilities, this group of typists should have been expected to type at far 
 above minimal competency. After completing 83 hours on the new 
 keyboard, we are told that the typing speed for this group had increased 
 to an average of 56 net words per minute, a 75 percent increase.

  A second part of the experiment consisted of the retraining of 18 typists on 
 the QWERTY keyboard. These typists reported a 28 percent increase in 
 typing speed from their initial speed of 29 words a minute.

  Although this evidence looks like a slam-dunk for Dvorak, it is not. 

 First, it is not clear how the QWERTY typists were picked, or even if 
 members of this group were aware that they were part of an experiment. 
 The participants' IQs and dexterity skills are not reported for the 
 QWERTY retraining group. Were their abysmal typing scores surprising, 
 given their inherent abilities? It is difficult to have any sense whether this

 group is a reasonable control for the first group. Nor do we know if the 
 QWERTY typewriters were newly overhauled. Nor do we know who 
 retrained these typists.

 Even worse, there is clear evidence that the results were altered through a 
 series of inappropriate data manipulations. For example, the initial typing 
 scores for the QWERTY typists were measured differently from the initial 
 scores of the Dvorak typists so as to greatly disadvantage the QWERTY 
 results. The report states that, because three typists in the QWERTY group 
 had initial net scores of zero words per minute (!), the beginning and 
 ending speeds were calculated as the average of the first four typing tests 
 and the average of the last four typing tests. This has the effect of raising 
 the measured initial typing speed, and lowering the measured ending 
 speed. In contrast, the initial experiment using Dvorak simply used the 
 first and last test scores. Using numbers reported in the footnotes of the 
 report, we were able to calculate that this truncation of the reported values 
 at the beginning of the test reduced the measured increase in typing speed 
 on the QWERTY keyboard by almost half. The effect of the truncation at 
 the end of the measuring period also decreases the reported gains for the 
 QWERTY typists, though the size of this distortion cannot be determined 
 from the report. The important thing, however, is that the numbers appear 
 to be cooked in favor of Dvorak.

  How can we take seriously a study which so blatantly seems to be 
 stacking the deck in favor of Dvorak? And, indeed, there appears to have 
 been good reason for that deck stacking.

  We discovered that the Navy's top expert in the analysis of time and 
 motion studies during World War II was none other than...drum roll 
 please...Lieut. Com. August Dvorak. Earle Strong, a professor at 
 Pennsylvania State University and a one-time chairman of the Office 
 Machine Section of the American Standards Association, reports that the 
 1944 Navy experiment was conducted by Dvorak himself. Strong was 
 heavily involved with these issues. He was the author of a key test of the 
 typewriter keyboard commissioned by the General Services 
 Administration.

  As if the potential for bias were not great enough, we also discovered that 
 Dvorak had a financial stake in this keyboard. He not only owned the 
 patent on the keyboard but had received at least $130,000 from the 
 Carnegie Commission for Education for the studies performed while he 
 was at the University of Washington, a rather stupendous sum for the 
 time.

  Of course, the purported Navy results, if true, would be quite 
 remarkable. After those first 10 days in which the investment is made and 
 recovered, the faster typing continues every working day in the life of the 
 typist. This would imply that the investment in retraining repays itself at 
 least 23 times in one year. Does it seem even remotely possible that 
 employers with large typing pools would turn down investments with 
 returns of 2,200 percent a year? 

 Evidence Against Dvorak

 Naturally, these false results were going to get found out. As many 
 businesses and government agencies contemplated changing keyboards in 
 the mid 1950s, the General Services Administration commissioned Strong's 
 study to confirm the earlier results. This study provides the most 
 compelling evidence against the Dvorak keyboard. It was a carefully 
 controlled experiment designed to examine the costs and benefits of 
 switching to Dvorak. It unreservedly concluded that retraining typists on 
 Dvorak was inferior to retraining on QWERTY.

  In the first phase of the experiment, 10 government typists were retrained 
 on the Dvorak keyboard. It took well over 25 days of four-hour-a-day 
 training for these typists to catch up to their old QWERTY speeds. 
 (Compare this to the Navy study's results.) When the typists had finally 
 caught up to their old speeds, the second phase of the experiment began. 
 The newly trained Dvorak typists continued training and a group of 10 
 QWERTY typists (matched in skill to the Dvorak typists) began a parallel 
 program to improve their skills. In this second phase the Dvorak typists 
 progressed less quickly with further Dvorak training than did QWERTY 
 typists training on QWERTY keyboards. Thus Strong concluded that 
 Dvorak training would never be able to amortize its costs. He 
 recommended instead that the government provide further training in the 
 QWERTY keyboard for QWERTY typists.

  The GSA study attempted to control carefully for the abilities and 
 treatments of the two groups. The study design directly paralleled the 
 decision that a real firm or a real government agency might face: Is it 
 worthwhile to retrain its present typists? If Strong's study is correct, it is

 not efficient for current typists to switch to Dvorak. The study also implied 
 that the eventual typing speed would be greater with QWERTY than with 
 Dvorak, although this conclusion was not emphasized.

  Much of the other evidence that has been used to support Dvorak's 
 superiority actually can be used to make a case against Dvorak. We have 
 the 1953 Australian Post Office study already mentioned, which needed to 
 remove psychological impediments to superior performance. A 1973 
 study based on six typists at Western Electric found that after 104 hours of 
 training on Dvorak, typists were 2.6 percent faster than they had been on 
 QWERTY. Similarly, a 1978 study at Oregon State University indicated 
 that after 100 hours of training, typists were up to 97.6 percent of their old

 QWERTY speed. Both of these retraining times are similar to those 
 reported by Strong but not to those in the Navy study. But unlike Strong's 
 study neither of these studies included parallel retraining on QWERTY 
 keyboards. As Strong points out, even experienced QWERTY typists 
 increase their speed on QWERTY if they are given additional training.

  Ergonomic studies also confirm that the advantages of Dvorak are either 
 small or nonexistent. For example, A. Miller and J Thomas, two 
 researchers at the IBM Research Laboratory, writing in the International 
 Journal of Man-Machine Studies, conclude that "no alternative has shown a 
 realistically significant advantage over the QWERTY for general purpose 
 typing." Other studies based on analysis of hand-and-finger motions find 
 differences of only a few percentage points between Dvorak and 
 QWERTY. The consistent finding in ergonomic studies is that the results 
 imply no clear advantage for Dvorak, and certainly no advantage of the 
 magnitude that is so often claimed.



 QWERTY's Competition

 Remington's early commercial rivals were numerous, offered substantial 
 variations on the typewriter, and in some cases enjoyed moderate success. 
 This should come as no surprise. Entrepreneurs in the late 19th century 
 would have realized that the typewriter market was potentially vast, in the 
 same way that Netscape, AT&T, and Microsoft are drooling over the 
 potential of the Internet at the end of the 20th century. 

 The largest and most important QWERTY rivals were the Hall, Caligraph, 
 and Crandall machines, which sold in relatively large numbers. Two other 
 manufacturers offered their own versions of an ideal keyboard: Hammond 
 in 1893 and Blickensderfer in 1889. Many of these companies went on to 
 success in the typewriter market, although, in the end, they all produced 
 QWERTY keyboards. So manufacturing prowess was not a problem for 
 QWERTY's rivals.

  In the 1880s and 1890s typewriters were generally sold to offices not 
 already staffed with typists. Potential typists were learning to type from 
 scratch. A manufacturer that chose to compete using an alternative 
 keyboard had a window of opportunity, since standards were not yet 
 established. As late as 1923, typewriter manufacturers operated placement 
 services for typists and were an important source of typists to businesses. 
 A keyboard that allowed more rapid training and faster typing should 
 have done well. And switching old typewriters to a new keyboard was not 
 particularly expensive--only $5.00 for resoldering in the 1930s.

  There were also direct tests of these competing keyboards. Typing 
 competitions, it turns out, were quite common in the late 1800s. The 
 Cincinnati contest was not the rare event claimed by Beeching, and 
 McGurrin was not the world's only touch typist. Once again, the facts have 
 been twisted to make a better tale. We did a search in TheNew York Times in 
 1888 and 1889. We found numerous typing contests and demonstrations of 
 speed involving many different machines, with various manufacturers 
 claiming to hold the speed record.

  In February 1889, under the headline "Wonderful Typing," The New York 
 Times reported on a typing demonstration given the previous day in 
 Brooklyn by Thomas Osborne of Rochester, New York. The Times reported 
 that Osborne "holds the championship for fast typing, having 
 accomplished 126 words a minute at Toronto August 13 last." In the 
 Brooklyn demonstration he typed 142 words per minute in a five-minute 
 test, 179 words per minute in a single minute, and 198 words per minute 
 for 30 seconds. He was accompanied by George McBride, who typed 129 
 words per minute blindfolded. Both men used the non-QWERTY 
 Caligraph machine. 

 The Times offered that "the Caligraph people have chosen a very pleasant 
 and effective way of proving not only the superior speed of their machine, 
 but the falsity of reports widely published that writing blindfolded was 
 not feasible on that instrument." Note that this was just months after 
 McGurrin's Cincinnati victory.

  There were other contests and a good number of victories for McGurrin 
 and Remington. On August 2, 1888, just weeks after the Cincinnati contest, 
 the Times reported a New York contest won by McGurrin with a speed of 
 95.8 words per minute in a five-minute dictation. In light of the received 
 history, according to which McGurrin is the only person to have 
 memorized the keyboard, it is interesting to note the strong performance 
 of his rivals. May Orr typed 95.2 words per minute, and M Grant typed 
 93.8 words per minute. Again, on January 9, 1889, the Times reported a 
 McGurrin victory under the headline "Remington Still Leads the List."

  Clearly, typists other than McGurrin could touch type, and machines 
 other than Remington were competitive. These events have largely been 
 ignored. But if we are interested in whether the QWERTY keyboard's 
 existence can be attributed to more than happenstance or an inventor's 
 whim, these events are crucial. The other keyboards did compete. They 
 just couldn't surpass QWERTY. So we cannot attribute the success of the 
 QWERTY keyboard either to a lack of alternatives or to the chance 
 association of this keyboard arrangement with the only touch typist or the 
 only mechanically adequate typewriter.

  There is further evidence of QWERTY's viability in its survival 
 throughout the world. As typing moved to countries outside the United 
 States, any QWERTY momentum could have been only a minor influence, 
 yet the basic configuration has been adopted with only minor variations in 
 virtually all countries with similar alphabets. What's more, the advent of 
 computer keyboards, which can easily be reprogrammed to any 
 configuration, lowers the cost of converting to Dvorak to essentially zero 
 (not counting retraining). Yet few computer users have adopted the 
 Dvorak keyboard.



 Epilogue

 The vitality of markets is that they allow competing alternatives to 
 demonstrate their capabilities. The primary players in this drama are 
 entrepreneurs, a group largely missing from the economic theories that 
 claim to establish the potential for this new kind of market failure. These 
 game-theory models limit firms to an artificially narrow choice of actions, 
 while actual entrepreneurs look for ways to overcome supposed "lock-in." 
 In theory, for instance, there's no such thing as a training course. 
 Entrepreneurs, as we have argued in other writings, are the ones who will 
 bring about the demise of an inefficient standard. Producers of alternative 
 keyboards were motivated to cash in on the success allowed in a 
 market-based economy. That they failed suggests that the non-QWERTY 
 arrangements held no real advantage.

  The QWERTY keyboard cannot be said to constitute evidence of any 
 systematic tendency for markets to err. Very simply, no competing 
 keyboard has offered enough advantage to warrant a change. The story of 
 Dvorak's superiority is a myth or, perhaps more properly, a hoax.

  In April 1990, we published a more detailed version of this material in a

 Journal of Law and Economics article titled "The Fable of the Keys." This 
 journal is well known and has published some of the most influential 
 articles in economics. In the six years since we published that article there 
 has been no attempt to refute any of our factual claims, to discredit the 
 GSA study, or to resurrect the Navy study. Unless some new evidence is 
 produced to support a claim of QWERTY's inferiority to Dvorak, how can 
 it even be said that there are two sides to a legitimate scientific 
 disagreement over the keyboard?

  Yet the QWERTY myth continues to be cited as if it were the truth. 
 Krugman's book has a 1994 copyright. Frank and Cook's copyright is 1995. 
 In a 1992 article in Industrial and Corporate Change, Paul David cites the 
 QWERTY example, as do Michael Katz and Carl Shapiro in their Spring 
 1994 article in the Journal of Economic Perspectives. 

 In a 1995 article on chaos theory, Michael Schermer goes on at length about 
 the need for examples of path dependence. With that, he devotes an entire 
 section, titled "The QWERTY Principle of History," to repeating the myth 
 of Dvorak superiority. The Social Science Citation Index for 1994 shows a 
 total of 28 citations to Paul David's 1985 American Economic Review article 
 presenting the QWERTY myth (the very large majority of these are 
 uncritical uses of the QWERTY story). And there is no sign of abatement. 
 The Citation Index for the first two-thirds of 1995, which is all that is 
 available as of this writing, shows 25 citations. If academics keep using a 
 false example, authors of popular articles can hardly be held to higher 
 standards of scholarship.

  Apparently the theory of path dependence and lock-in to inferior 
 technologies is in trouble without the QWERTY example. Apparently the 
 cost of giving up this example is greater than the discomfort associated 
 with its illegitimate use. Apparently the typewriter example is of such 
 importance to many writers because it can so easily persuade people that 
 an interventionist technology policy is necessary. How else to explain its 
 continued use in this literature? Since an interventionist technology policy 
 is no more likely to benefit consumers than are the myriad other 
 government interventions in the market, we should not be surprised that 
 good examples are largely fictional.



 Stan Liebowitz is professor of managerial economics at the University of Texas
 at  Dallas management school. Stephen E. Margolisis professor of economics at
 North   Carolina State University.Visit Stan Liebowitz's Web page for more 
 information.



---


MK


All kinds of socialism are based on self-deception.


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