I’ve periodically described myself as an “open source developer” in those pithy biography blocks that you sometimes get (or have) to create. Developing and providing open source software means something specific to me, and I’d like to share how I think about it.
At it’s core, it’s only a little about solving problems with code – it’s as much about the community for me. When I provide open source software, it means I am both willing and want to contribute to knowledge that others can use, with few constraints. I’m not seeking payment, nor am I seeking to become a servant. I build and share open source software because I enjoy having, being apart of, and building a community that helps each other. The software solution itself is useful, but almost secondary. I enjoy, and search for, the benefits of having a community with diverse skills. People that I can go to with questions to get answers, or at least opinions on directions to search, and warnings about steep cliffs or ravines that may lie along the path – at least if they know of them.
I’ll happily host software on Github or Gitlab, take the time to make it into a package that others can use, and submit it to a relevant package index. I’m often do that as a side effect of solving a problem for myself. Sometimes I like to share how I tackled it for anyone else coming along with questions. I get a huge amount of value from reading other people’s work solving problems, so I try to share my thinking as well. The solutions may not be optimal, or even correct in all cases, but it’s shared – and that’s the main thing. Because it isn’t easy to find solutions just looking at source (or reading Github discussions), I also write about some of my searching for solutions in this blog. It helps to get at least some of the details in the global search indices. A blog isn’t a great place to share code, but it’s a decent place to talk about a problem or solution – and point to the code.
I’ve run into a number of folks who don’t share my opinion of what’s suitable to open source. I’ve heard them reference their reasons for not publishing as open source, as if they’re feeling guilty for not doing so. I’m not sure that’s what they’re feeling, but I kind of read that into some of what’s said. I’d really like to tell them there no guilt or shame in not contributing, or in keeping your learning and explorations to yourself.
I think some of that guilt thing has evolved from technical recruiters using (and sometimes expecting) a person’s public GitHub repository to be a reflection of their capabilities or a kind of portfolio or work. I’ve looked myself when I’ve hired people, if there’s something there – in the past, I thought it could show interests that can be useful to know about or just a starting point for a conversation. The downside of this practice is that people end up thinking that whatever they might “open source” has to speak with perfection about their cleverness, clarity, or robustness of a solution. I get it, that concern for what others might think based on what I’ve done. While I personally value the sharing, I respect the desire to not want to be put in that position.
There’s also plenty of people who legally can’t share. I think it sucks that corporate policies with these legal constrains exist, and from a corporate policy perspective I think it’s brutally short sighted. That said, I’m also someone who believes that ideas are nearly free – that it is execution that matters in building and running a company. Still it’s common, especially for technology companies, to legally constrain their employees from participating in open source without their explicit, prior approval – or in some cases to deny it all together, shitty as that can be.
I like to learn and I like to teach – or more specifically, I like to share what I’ve learned and learn from others in the process. (I’ve never learned so much as when I taught.) I get a lot of value out of being a part of a community – more so one that shares, sympathizes during the rough spots, and celebrates the successes. I’ve been repeatedly fortunate to find and be involved in great communities, and I’ve learned to seek them out – or just help foster and build them. I’ve also run from “so-called” communities that had individuals that delighted in mocking others, or attacked an opinion because it was different from theirs (I’m looking at you, orange hell-site).
While I love sharing, I’ve learned (the hard way) to set boundaries. Just because I like and want to share doesn’t mean I’m beholden to someone else’s opinion of what I should do, how I solve a problem, or that I have any obligation to them beyond what I choose to give. I’ve had people demand support from me, or from a team I was a part of collaboratively developing some open source software. I’ve even had a few experiences where I was targeted in personal, verbal attacks. It’s unfortunate that this comes with the territory of sharing with the world, but it’s also been (fortunately) rare. Most of the time the people being abusive, or selfish jerks, aren’t part of the community group that that I value. In my experience, they often stumbled onto code I helped create while looking for a solution to some problem they have, and thought because I shared, they were owed something. Sometimes they’re just people having a bad day and relieving their frustrations in the wrong place. There was a time that I’d offer to help those folks who’d been abbrasive – but only for money as a contract or consulting fees. These days I often shunt such ravings into a trash can, shut the lid, and don’t look back. It’s not worth the time, or the money, to deal with assholes.
The most valuable thing is the people you can connect with. These may be folks you’ve known for years, or they might be people you’ve never met or heard from. One of the best parts of “being an open source developer” is putting solutions out there that someone can pick up and use, and along the side infer “hey – there’s a place for you here. Drop in, have a seat, and chat with us.” They might stop in for a few minutes, a couple of days, or maybe longer. I expect everyone moves on at some point, and my hope is that they take away a spark of being a part of positive community. A seed of how it could work that they can grow.
Back at the beginning of this, I said open source meant something specific to me – sharing knowledge with “few constraints”. That’s not the same as no constraints. The formal mechanism in software around these constraints is licensing. I watched the legal battles from the 80’s and 90s, felt (and dealt with) their fallout, and avidly followed the evolution of a formal definition of open source and the blooming of various licenses that provided a legal backing. I get the licensing and I take it seriously. While I understand the foundational desires behind the free-software movement and its various licenses – such as GPL and LGPL – that’s not for me; I’m not a fan. I’m not going to, and don’t want to, take that hard a line and impose those additional legal constraints for the product that represents the knowledge I’m sharing. About the only constraint I want to put on something is attribution. The gist of which is “don’t be a jerk and take credit for my work”, but really it boils down “Recognize that you, like I, stand on the shoulders of our peers and those that came before us.”
Rhonabwy 