Thursday, July 31, 2014
A GitHub Drama
After abandoning Node.js for Go, TJ Holowaychuk apparently made his separation official by selling off the branding and official GitHub "ownership" of his Express framework to StrongLoop, a Node.js company whose projects include software services, consulting services, support, and free software. (StrongLoop's CEO, by the way, is no stranger to the concept of businesses based on free software, having previously sold his startup Makara to Red Hat and developed Red Hat's OpenShift product - Red Hat being the company which pioneered open source business models.)
As an aside, I'm often disturbed by how many things GitHub is these days.
.@GitHub is awesome, of course, but it's also so obviously a vim which labors under the deranged misapprehension of being a Facebook.— タチコマ (@gilesgoatboy) July 28, 2014
The latest Node.js drama undermines my tweeted theory, because much of the drama unfolds on GitHub. So maybe GitHub's a Twitter which used to be an emacs?
Anyway, here's the history. If my retelling fails at fairness, apologies to all involved.
First, StrongLoop announced the sponsorship on its blog. A major Express contributor immediately filed an issue on GitHub: "This repo needs to belong in the expressjs org." The discussion that unfolded there is interesting (although currently locked), but here's a summary: Holowaychuk transferred ownership to StrongLoop without either asking or informing the Express community beforehand. StrongLoop's been committed to Node.js for a good while now, and hopes to support Express with documentation and continued development. However, the Express community may have taken over for Holowaychuk some time ago, so there's some contention over whether or not the "ownership" of the project was legitimately his to transfer in the first place.
An angry blog post argues that it was not:
When TJ Holowaychuk lost interest in maintaining Express, he did the right thing (for a change) by letting others take over and keep it going. In open source, that meant the project was no longer his, even if it was located under his GitHub account – a common practice when other people take over a project.
Keeping a project under its original URL is a nice way to maintain continuity and give credit to the original author. It does not give that person the right to take control back without permission, especially not for the sole purpose of selling it to someone else...
What makes this particular move worse, is the fact that ownership was transferred to a company that directly monetizes Express by selling both professional services and products built on top of it. It gives StrongLoop an unfair advantage over other companies providing node services by putting them in control of a key community asset. It creates a potential conflict of interest between promoting Express vs. their commercial framework LoopBack (which is built on top of Express).
This move only benefits StrongLoop and TJ Holowaychuk, and disadvantages the people who matter the most – the project active maintainers and its community.
Holowaychuk responded with a blog post of its own, pointing out that he had communicated with Doug Wilson of the Express community, asking Wilson if he'd like some of the proceeds of the deal:
My intent was to share said compensation with Douglas since he has been the primary maintainer on Express lately. I signalled that intent by emailing him...
I don't want to wade into the drama here, which is why I've made an effort here to be dispassionate and objective. I'm totally happy to let that shake out however it shakes out. But I have to admit that I think there's a really interesting question at the heart of all this: who owned the Express web framework? Was it really Holowaychuk's to sell?
I find this question interesting because it reminds me of a totally wrong theory I cooked up recently: that being free is what ruined the Ruby web framework Rails.
Totally Wrong Theory: Being Free Ruined Rails
I've previously argued that the Rails/Merb merge was a mistake, and that Rails went off the rails. I came up with my new, totally wrong theory when I was trying to figure out how the Rails/Merb merge happened in the first place.
Before I get into it, I want to point out that one of the major flaws in my theory here is that Rails isn't actually ruined. As I said, the theory is a totally wrong theory (and being totally wrong is obviously another one of its flaws). But I want to explore the idea to illustrate some of the flaws in the purist, old-school definitions of open source software. Because I don't think that theory is correct, either.
That theory comes from Eric Raymond's The Cathedral and the Bazaar, which provides a great statement of the classic concept of what open source is, and what open source means. This essay, and the book it later became, first articulated the idea that "with enough eyeballs, all bugs are shallow," and laid out 19 rules of open source development. For example, "the next best thing to having good ideas is recognizing good ideas from your users. Sometimes the latter is better." Or, "release early. Release often. And listen to your customers."
The Cathedral represents a software development model where developers build code in private and release it in public. The Bazaar represents a model where all development occurs in public. Raymond argues for the Bazaar in favor of the Cathedral. I don't know how development worked in Express, or how it will proceed now, but Rails uses a hybrid model, where the majority of development occurs in public, yet certain decisions happen in private.
Many other projects use this model as well. (Obviously, in the case of Express, the decision to sell sponsorship occurred in private.)
The Rails/Merb merge is one example of a major decision which occurred in private. There was no public debate, just a sudden announcement, with a big thank you to the Merb team for all the free help that would get Rails 2 to Rails 3. But free help isn't always free.
37Signals (now Basecamp) have long advocated turning down unnecessary feature requests, and Rails creator David Heinemeier Hansson took the idea to absurd lengths with his description of Rails as an "omakase" framework. But one explanation for the Rails/Merb merge is that EngineYard said "we'll pay for Rails 3 to happen, as long as Rails 3 is also Merb 2," and members of Rails core forgot their own advice about turning down unnecessary feature requests because, for once, the unnecessary feature requests came along with the offer of (unnecessary) free work.
To be clear, the feature requests, and the free work to support them, were unnecessary in my opinion, but not in the opinion of the people who made the merge happen. I'm going to make an attempt to be objective regarding Express, but when it comes to Rails, that train has already sailed. It's my belief that the Rails/Merb merge brought Rails an incomplete but ambitious modularity it didn't actually need, and that there's an inherent irony here, because Mr. Hansson vigorously and scornfully opposed adding a different kind of modularity to Rails apps: stuff like moving business logic out of Rails models and into simple Ruby objects, moving application logic out of Rails entirely and treating it as a library instead of a framework, and wrapping Rails's ActionMailer system in simpler API calls like
Good Modularity and Bad Modularity
The general theme: how to unfuck a monorail. Many Rails developers wrestle with this theme, but Mr. Hansson seems (in my opinion) to dismiss it categorically and without any significant consideration. (Indeed, so many Rails developers wrestle with this issue that I think it's fair to call it a crucial moment in the lifecycle of most Rails apps.)
Some of these things are a lot easier to do because of the Rails/Merb merge, yet it's interesting to contrast Mr. Hansson's hostility to these ideas with his embrace of the merge. On the one hand, we saw claims of a powerful modularity that either failed to materialize or which proved useful to only a few people.
On the flip side, Rails's creator seemed pretty contemptuous of people who created simpler, more practical forms of modularization to suit the needs of their individual applications. It's a fascinating contradiction, from the developer who once lambasted "architecture astronauts," to attack pragmatic modularization with very immediate causes, while championing an abstract modularity with less obvious usefulness.
I think this was an error in judgement, and I think it happened because the work seemingly came for free. Because why else would a team famous for ignoring feature requests happily embrace an incredibly ambitious set of feature requests?
Managing open source frameworks takes time. Writing code takes time; discussing pull requests takes time; and running a private chat room for your "open source" project takes time.
To unpack that last statement, gaining access to the private Rails core Campfire is a key step in becoming a member of Rails core:
Yehuda gave me access to control the LightHouse tickets and to the Rails CampFire...The fact that I was invited to be a part of the Rails Core Team really surprised me. It was unexpected until I read Yehuda in CampFire saying that the guys with commit access should join the core team after the release of Rails 3 and David was OK with that.
Here's where Rails operates as a hybrid between the Cathedral and the Bazaar. Its core team's private Campfire chat functions as a Cathedral, but its GitHub activity functions as a Bazaar.
The Bizarre Bazaar
The Cathedral and the Bazaar argues that the Bazaar is superior because no one person is smarter than a community of smart people, and because nobody can craft a One True Design™ which is better suited to a problem space than the design which will emerge if you allow lots of people to work on the problem.
Yet the "omakase" philosophy also created a community which operates on the foundation of an unspoken shared disregard for the community's alleged leadership. The sign of an experienced Rails developer is a weird duality; a skilled Rails dev knows the recommendations of Rails core, and ignores or contradicts most of them. As Steve Klabnik said, Rails really has two default stacks, the "omakase" stack and the "Prime" stack, which could also be described as the official stack and the stack which is the default for everybody except 37Signals and utter newbies. There is something just deeply, dementedly messed-up about a community where following best practices, or believing that the documentation is correct, are both sure signs of cluelessness.
Rails is not the only open source project to feature this half-Cathedral, half-Bazaar hybrid. (You could call it a bizarre Bazaar.) Ember works in a similar way, and Cognitect's transit-ruby project features the following disclaimer in their README:
This library is open source, developed internally by Cognitect. We welcome discussions of potential problems and enhancement suggestions on the transit-format mailing list. Issues can be filed using GitHub issues for this project. Because transit is incorporated into products and client projects, we prefer to do development internally and are not accepting pull requests or patches.
(This disclaimer, of course, did not prevent people from filing pull requests anyway, one of which was unofficially accepted.)
Sidekiq & Sidekiq Pro
I believe 37Signals and EngineYard both have funded some of Rails's development, and that they're far from alone in this. I know ENTP did the same when I worked for them, and I believe that's also true of Thoughtbot, Platformatec, several other companies, and of course a staggering number of independent individuals. I'm certain Twitter directly funded some of the work on Apache Mesos, and that Google indirectly funded it as well by contributing to Berkeley's AMP Lab, where Mesos originated. While "open source" was the opposite of corporate development when the idea first swept the world, today most successful open source projects have seen a company, or several companies, pay somebody to work on the project, even though the project then gives the work away for free.
It's an amazing evolution in the economics of software, and something I think everybody should be grateful for.
However, I know of an alternate model, and I have to wonder how Rails might have handled the Merb merge differently, if it had been using this model instead. This is the Sidekiq and Sidekiq Pro model.
In his blog post How to Make $100K in OSS by Working Hard, Mike Perham wrote:
My Sidekiq project isn’t just about building the best background processing framework for Ruby, it’s also a venue for me to experiment with ways to make open source software financially sustainable for the developers who work on it hundreds of hours each year (e.g. me)...
When Sidekiq was first released in Feb 2012, I offered a commercial license for $50. Don’t like Sidekiq’s standard LGPL license? Upgrade to a commercial license. In nine months of selling commercial licenses, I sold 33 for $1,650...
In October last year I announced a big change: I would sell additional functionality in the form of an add-on Rubygem. Sidekiq Pro would cost $500 per company and add several complex but useful features not in the Sidekiq gem...
In the last year selling Sidekiq Pro, I sold about 140 copies for $70,000. Assuming I’ve spent 700 hours on Sidekiq so far, that’s $100/hr. Success! Sales have actually notched up as Sidekiq has become more popular and pervasive: my current sales rate appears to be about $100,000/yr.
If I recall correctly, when he wrote this blog post, Perham was also working full-time as Director of Infrastructure at an ecommerce startup. His blog now lists his job as Founder and CEO of Contributed Systems, whose first product family consists of Sidekiq and Sidekiq Pro. Perham seems to have discovered a really effective model for funding open source software.
What if Rails had used this model? I like to think there's an alternate universe where this happened; where 37Signals gave away Rails for free, and charged a licensing fee for an expanded, more powerful version called Rails Pro.
Rails & Rails Pro
I like to imagine that in this alternate universe, when people wrestled with the paralyzing monorail stage of the Rails app lifecycle, Mr. Hansson and the other members of the Rails core team would have had no choice but to listen to their users, because their business depended on it. I also like to imagine that in this alternate universe, a Merb merge would not have been possible. The financial incentives to think carefully before accepting feature requests, even when they arrive in the form of code, would have been stronger.
Keep in mind that when you send a pull request you're saying, "I wrote some code. I think you should maintain it."— Nicholas C. Zakas (@slicknet) May 29, 2014
But this business model raises a whole bunch of questions, because so many people and companies contributed so much time and effort to make Rails in the first place. Would they have done the same, in this alternate universe? It's one thing when you're contributing to a project "everybody" owns, and another when you're contributing to somebody else's business. (Sidekiq certainly sees a lot of contributions, but Perham does most of the work, and I can't currently peek at the contrib graph for Sidekiq Pro.)
And consider: What happens if Mike Perham wants to sell Sidekiq and Sidekiq Pro? For that matter, what happens if 37Signals wants to sell their interest in Rails? And what if Express had been using this business model? Can you hand off your semi-open-source, semi-commercial project for somebody else to run?
From the "About Us" section on the home page for Mike Perham's company Contributed Systems:
We believe that open source software is the right way to build systems; building products on top of an open source core means the software will be maintained and supported for years to come.
Contributed Systems is a play on the computer science term "distributed systems" and the fact that we allow anyone to contribute to our software.
Sidekiq's popular for a reason: it's really good. And if Sidekiq Pro accepts contributions just like Sidekiq does, then it's neither really open source nor closed source, but more like "gated community source." (Because it's a Ruby gem, so my guess is that it is open source for those who have access to it, but you have to pay to get that access in the first place.)
There's an enormous mess of contradictions here. Software development is basically the only industry making money right now in the entire United States. And yet its foundation is this basically communist idea that everybody will contribute to the greater good. The idea that you can sell sponsorship and/or ownership of a project, as with TJ Holowaychuk and StrongLoop, really exposes these contradictions.
Law Is Hard, Let's Go Hacking
Perham's "gated community" model might be the best approach. Most open source licenses prefer to avoid these issues by entirely disavowing any and all responsibility. It's simpler, but I doubt it's as sustainable. Here's the MIT Public License:
Permission is hereby granted, free of charge, to any person obtaining a copy of this software and associated documentation files (the "Software"), to deal in the Software without restriction, including without limitation the rights to use, copy, modify, merge, publish, distribute, sublicense, and/or sell copies of the Software, and to permit persons to whom the Software is furnished to do so, subject to the following conditions:
The above copyright notice and this permission notice shall be included in all copies or substantial portions of the Software.
THE SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED "AS IS", WITHOUT WARRANTY OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO THE WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY, FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE AND NONINFRINGEMENT. IN NO EVENT SHALL THE AUTHORS OR COPYRIGHT HOLDERS BE LIABLE FOR ANY CLAIM, DAMAGES OR OTHER LIABILITY, WHETHER IN AN ACTION OF CONTRACT, TORT OR OTHERWISE, ARISING FROM, OUT OF OR IN CONNECTION WITH THE SOFTWARE OR THE USE OR OTHER DEALINGS IN THE SOFTWARE.
Translation: "no money changes hands, and you can do anything you want as long as you acknowledge authorship, but we take no responsibility at all for anything which happens, so don't ask us for shit."
I am not a lawyer. If you're a lawyer reading this, I have a question for you: would disavowing any and all warranties still even be possible under the law if money had changed hands?
In a similar vein, I don't think any true Bazaar exists, in the sense of Eric Raymond's metaphor, because it's customary in open source projects to yield final decision-making power to whoever started the project, and to refer to that person as the project's Benevolent Dictator for Life. (If Holowaychuk had any real right to sell Express, this might be where it came from.) That one individual person's final decision-making process is inherently closed, and could only be truly open if we all developed the power of telepathy. I think this "BDFL" custom exists because it's much easier to skirt the issue of the contributors' social contract than it is to define anything more specific.
(Pirate Party founder Rick Falkvinge talks about this extensively in his book Swarmwise, which is essentially about how to use the development model of open source software for political purposes instead. He makes the point that adding a formal voting process to a chaotic, ad hoc organization is most likely to alienate the people who would otherwise become the organization's most productive members, because highly productive contributors are not typically fans of overly bureaucratic process.)
Communist Capitalism or Capitalist Communism?
The open source movement dates back as far as the late 1970s, although at that time it was known as the free software movement, and that is actually a different thing. Whereas the free software movement saw software transparency as a requirement for a free society, open source seeks to fit the superior utility of open development practices into a business framework.
The "open source" label was created at a strategy session held on February 3rd, 1998 in Palo Alto, California, shortly after the announcement of the release of the Netscape source code. The strategy session grew from a realization that the attention around the Netscape announcement had created an opportunity to educate and advocate for the superiority of an open development process...
The conferees also believed that it would be useful to have a single label that identified this approach and distinguished it from the philosophically- and politically-focused label "free software."
Open source projects very often use a communist methodology for capitalist purposes. There are times when this duality is tremendously entertaining; for instance, any time a Linux sysdamin tells you "Communism doesn't work," you get a free joke. Likewise, you get a free joke any time somebody tells you that Linux proves all software should be open source, and the joke is the user interface for Blender, an open source 3D graphics and animation package with notoriously incompetent UX. I think it's extremely likely that the only way to produce good software is to balance capitalist interests against a communist methodology, and if I'm correct about that, it would certainly qualify as one of the many reasons software is inherently hard to get right. The inherent tension between these two forces is tremendous. The drama around Express's transfer of ownership springs from that.
I'd love to give you a pat answer to the question of who owns Express.js, but I think it's a big question.
Update: Mike Perham wrote me to say that his customers can contribute to Sidekiq Pro, and that 5-10 customers have, although he has to own the copyright, to keep the publishing/licensing issues from being insane.
Monday, July 7, 2014
Signal Obscura is, in short, is a flexible, wearable Faraday cage. It functions by blocking the signal between cell towers and your cell phone... The model below also features blue LEDs which glow in response to the strength of nearby cell towers, bringing awareness to how exposed the wearer would be to having their data collected, were they not wearing the scarf.
Signal Obscura is not a replacement for other security measures (end-to-end encryption, Tor, etc.) but simply adds another layer of control to the user over the times and places when others may have access to their data....
Signal Obscura was designed as a part of the 48-hour Extreme Wearables Designathon at the Art Center College of Design. Involved in the project were Michelle Leonhart, Barb Noren, Qiyan “Oscar” Li, Ekin Zileli, and Dave Hansungkim.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
1/ Britain had a very strong female leader at the head of a police state in Queen Elizabeth, in the late 1500s, when Shakespeare got started— not a chatbot (@gilesgoatboy) June 29, 2014
2/ so if Hillary Clinton wins in 2016 America will have caught up to where England was in the 1590s— not a chatbot (@gilesgoatboy) June 29, 2014
3/ You can do it, America. I'm rooting for you.— not a chatbot (@gilesgoatboy) June 29, 2014
Sir Francis Walsingham (c. 1532 – 6 April 1590) was principal secretary to Queen Elizabeth I of England from 20 December 1573 until his death, and is popularly remembered as her "spymaster"...
Walsingham was driven by Protestant zeal to counter Catholicism, and sanctioned the use of torture against Catholic priests and suspected conspirators...Walsingham tracked down Catholic priests in England and supposed conspirators by employing informers, and intercepting correspondence. Walsingham's staff in England included the cryptographer Thomas Phelippes, who was an expert in deciphering letters and forgery, and Arthur Gregory, who was skilled at breaking and repairing seals without detection.
Book burning was common in this Elizabethan police state...
Shakespeare's England: It is a land forced into major cultural upheaval for the second time in ten years. It is a society divided by intolerance, a population cowed beneath the iron fist of a brutal and paranoid Police State. It is an unequal society of great wealth and unimaginable poverty...
And just to be clear, I'd probably vote for Hillary in 2016. I'm just saying, if you think it's bad that America hasn't yet caught up to where England was in 1979, you've underestimated the scope of the problem.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Way back in 2008, at MountainWest RubyConf, somebody high-placed at EngineYard told me that the company funded Merb development because they hoped some of that work would end up in Rails. At the time, I thought the comment made no sense; Rails and Merb were fundamentally different projects with fundamentally different philosophies. But Yehuda Katz (then of EngineYard) announced the Rails/Merb merge only a few months later:
Rails will become more modular, starting with a rails-core, and including the ability to opt in or out of specific components. We will focus on reducing coupling across Rails, and making it possible to replace parts of Rails without disturbing other parts. This is exactly what Merb means when it touts “modularity”...
Rails will be retrofitted to make it easy to start with a “core” version of Rails (like Merb’s current core generator), that starts with all modules out, and makes it easy to select just the parts that are important for your app. Of course, Rails will still ship with the “stack” version as the default (just as Merb does since 1.0), but the goal is to make it easy to do with Rails what people do with Merb today.
This took longer than expected, but it happened, sort of. The initial site generator script is way more pleasant to use as a result, and replacing ActiveRecord with a REST or Mongo client got easier too. That's cool. But the Rails community largely didn't embrace Rails's newfound modularity the way Mr. Katz told us we should expect.
Despite all the new options, I still write Rails apps sometimes — partly because there's a lot of Rails work out there, and partly because I love Ruby (and still kind of love Rails). However, I think the modularization of Rails failed, and in this blog post, I'm aiming for a basic post mortem.
Personally, the people I've seen and worked with in Ruby haven't used Rails's breakout libraries and post-Merb-merge modularity to the extent that Mr. Katz evangelized. One way to understand that is the "Sinatra + ActiveRecord + [many other things]" problem. It's kind of a random tangent, but bear with me. When you need something tiny, Sinatra is awesome, but you can tell you've underestimated the scope of your project if you end up pulling ActiveRecord back in, and then you want migrations, or view helpers, and the bigger your little Sinatra project gets, the more you wonder if you shouldn't just have used Rails, because you're manually importing all its various features.
Sinatra's great for tightly-constrained services, but not so great for projects which might grow in scope, and that makes it a judgement call, because in theory, anything might grow in scope. There's a "tldr: just use Rails" disincentive to actually exploiting Rails's modularity in this fairly shallow and direct way, because you add cognitive overhead and complexity which you could have avoided just by using the more "batteries included" solution. That same disincentive exists with respect to any attempt to reconfigure Rails's architecture, even though it can definitely be worth the effort.
José Valim wrote a terrific book about all the amazing acrobatics you can pull off if you're familiar with the modular components of Rails, and if you compose software with these components, rather than simply building vanilla Rails apps. The only problem is that you kind of have to have José-Valim-level familiarity with Rails's internals to do it well. Mr. Valim's been on the Rails core team for years, and that's a pretty massive time investment at a pretty significant level of skill. So a lot of the modular power of Rails, a major goal which ate up a very significant amount of development time, sits untapped as remarkable power that nobody ever actually uses, because nobody has the years to spend to get on José Valim's level just so they can tackle a few edge cases in ways which will baffle every new programmer they ever onboard, going forward for the entire lifespan of their company.
I'm exaggerating here, and being completely unfair to Mr. Valim's book, but you get the idea. Speaking of shameless rhetorical self-indulgence, Rails's creator David Heinemeier Hansson often receives extremely justifiable criticism for making overly grand statements, but once upon a time, people used to talk a lot more about the intensely beautiful design work he did with Rails at the project's inception.
An ideal Rails app is as rare as an ideal anything else, but without a set of APIs that carefully constrain the problem space down to a manageable subset, it's quite difficult to even start conversations about what to build next. If the overwhelming majority of your web work is about business logic and flow between web pages, what you're going to build next will very probably be either business logic or flow between web pages. But if a substantial part of your web work is reconfiguring architecture, or inventing new architecture from scratch, then "what should we build today?" is a longer conversation, and one which poses challenges to staying focused and effective.
Even today, with the whole shoehorned-in aspect of mobile and JS framework stuff, having a simple canned architecture gives you phenomenal benefits in terms of concentration and peace of mind, at least at your project's outset. If you're dismantling Rails and building something new out of its parts, you're re-opening that can of worms, and that can be expensive, time-consuming, and aggravating. By programmer standards, it's very easy to estimate how long it will take to churn out some familiar chunk of business logic. Building a custom version of a very complex framework takes an unpredictable amount of time and adds a substantial amount of cognitive overhead to a project. It increases your risk of failure, delay, and burnout. If it goes well at all, it'll only be because somebody at your company takes elegant internal API design seriously, and does it well. Dunning-Kruger effects aside, this is a very rare skill.
But the Rails/Merb merge didn't give Rails any of this. In fact, it doesn't seem to have affected many Rails developers directly at all. Very probably, a few companies did take advantage of the new modularity, to solve a few very specific problems, but most people don't know how and don't have the problems which would make it worthwhile in the first place. So the basic problem here is that the Rails/Merb merge wasn't useful to a lot of people, and that it took too long. (In fact, given that many aspects of that modular rewrite still seem unfinished, even today, it might be more accurate to say that it is taking too long.) You have to give the Rails team credit for tackling technical debt, but in this instance, it might not have been worth the effort.
The irony is that Rails developers have formed their own, unofficial, unapproved hacks to supply a much more modest form of modularity in Rails, and Mr. Hansson vigorously opposed this practice about a year and a half ago. It's relatively rare in a Rails app to exploit post-Merb-merge modularity, but it's very common to break your app out into services, and to break god objects into smaller files. Many people who build a Rails app need to do this, sooner or later.
(As an aside, I recently built an unusual thing, namely a Rails app with no
Usermodel — the usual candidate for god object status — and was surprised to discover another object in the system creeping towards god object status instead.)
Many people have noticed that the Rails culture's prone to occasional dysfunction and drama. This is not unique to Rails; it's inherent to the social media aspects of open source. But these aspects sometimes work against the end goal of delivering excellent software. This failure to achieve consensus around the topic of modularity may be a perfect example of community dysfunction. Rails developers who developed common ways to make their architecture more modular, to solve problems they all shared, met with opposition from Mr. Hansson. Yet Rails core embraced a more arcane modularity which nobody turned out to want.
It's an interesting mistake, in my opinion. Great design implies the diligent application of exquisitely careful good judgement. Consider how Rails views squash their problem space down to an approximation of PHP, but Rails then expands back into a full OO system towards the back end. That was revolutionary when it first appeared. It suggested some very deep thinking about questions like "what kind of progamming is appropriate here?". The way the Rails project has handled questions like "what kind of modularity is appropriate here?" seems less deep to me, in comparison, and less well-balanced.
Any decent post mortem needs to also consider what, if anything, Rails lost as a result of its merge with Merb. Matt Aimonetti said it well:
the lack of competition and the internal rewrites made Rails lose its headstart. Rails is very much HTML/view focused, its primarily strength is to make server side views trivial and it does an amazing job at that. But let’s be honest, that’s not the future for web dev. The future is more and more logic pushed to run on the client side (in JS) and the server side being used as an API serving data for the view layer... Rails is far from being optimized to developer web APIs in Rails. You can certainly do it, but you are basically using a tool that wasn’t designed to write APIs and you pay the overhead for that.
The knee-jerk reaction to this might be that paradigms change, but the "new" evolution in the nature of web applications should not surprise you at all if you were paying attention during the browser wars of the late 90s, or if you were paying attention when Google bought Writely and turrned it into Google Docs, or if you thought about Microsoft's claim, to the Department of Justice and the courts, that the browser was part of the operating system, or if you read Bill Gates's essay Content Is King, written in 1996.
To quote some relevant commentary:
Microsoft is trying to provide web applications with the same performance as native applications...
This is exactly the nightmare scenario that Bill Gates, co-founder of Microsoft, feared would happen, that the web browser could substitute for the operating system, and that's why he aggressively went after Netscape Communications in the 1990s, resulting in an anti-trust conviction against Microsoft.
I had a brief conversation on Twitter with Avdi Grimm:
This conversation took place before the release of Rails 4. Mr. Grimm's prediction proved incorrect. Although Rails 4 brought plenty of incremental improvements, as well as much-needed concurrency support, it remains a framework based on assumptions about what web programming is which simply are not true any more. Rails 4 is certainly an impressive accomplishment, but it's not the most
innovative thing in the world.
Nor should it be, necessarily.
There’s nothing wrong or shameful with nailing a single use case, like VB did for Windows desktop or PHP for web scripts. It’s beautiful!— DHH (@dhh) December 29, 2012
I can't call PHP beautiful, but the basic sentiment is completely legit. But a lot of Rails developers have business models which require cutting-edge technologies. The cutting edge is also just a fun place to be. Here's what the cutting edge looks like in 2014:
This is Verold, a web app which competes with Unity, Cinema 4D, and Maya.
Returning to my discussion with Avdi Grimm, I said this:
I was just being nice. Rails might never recapture the lead, unless Rails core undertakes some very serious re-examination of the project's design assumptions. That's hard to do, and they're probably still tired from the Rails/Merb merge. And Mr. Hansson may not decide to do the same kind of serious, difficult, incisive thinking that he did back in 2004, when he wasn't a millionaire and he had to prove himself. He did some amazing work in his early 20s, during a recession, when everybody works harder than normal, but he may not want to put his promising racing career on hold for a couple years so he can deal with new technological issues which he doesn't seem to understand or need to care about.
And to be fair, that's not a reasonable thing to expect from him, or indeed anybody. But it does contextualize his recent keynote presentation, at RailsConf 2014, about the alleged demise of TDD.
As Mr. Hansson and his co-author put it in their book Getting Real:
One bonus you get from having an enemy is a very clear marketing message. People are stoked by conflict. And they also understand a product by comparing it to others. With a chosen enemy, you're feeding people a story they want to hear. Not only will they understand your product better and faster, they'll take sides. And that's a sure-fire way to get attention and ignite passion.
In this context, TDD Is Dead just looks like attention-getting fluff to me. We live in a world where Nodecopter is old news. We have a framework which may in fact lag behind the cutting edge, and we have an unresolved tension about what the right level of modularity is in that framework. What's the value in dredging up a mid-2000s buzzword?
With apologies for the snark, I see an important lesson here.
Open source software has to balance two opposing forces: a strong, guiding vision in the service of a particular use case, vs. responding to, and respecting, the project's community. Rails favors the first force over the second. Quoting again from Getting Real:
Just because x number of people request something, doesn't mean you have to include it. Sometimes it's better to just say no and maintain your vision for the product.
Rails might be overbalanced in this direction, and underemphasizing the value of listening to its community. But you could easily argue instead that too many people tried to use Rails for too many inappropriate use cases. It's a judgement call. It will probably always be a judgement call. Rails seems to have chosen to err on the side of saying no, and that's a completely legit choice.
It could even be that the number one mistake in the Rails/Merb merge was that they didn't say no enough. If a company comes to you and tells you that they'll happily refactor your open source project for you, that might be a good time for saying no.
Keep in mind that when you send a pull request you're saying, "I wrote some code. I think you should maintain it."— Nicholas C. Zakas (@slicknet) May 29, 2014
Another lesson to learn might be that user experience design is a much more important part of API design than programmers have traditionally realized. For the sake of argument, let's take a position which is so extreme as to be silly, and agree (for the moment) that nobody should ever have used Rails to make any kind of app other than a Basecamp clone. Let's say Rails is appropriate for one use case and one use case only. The question then becomes, why did so many people misuse it for so many additional purposes?
Maybe because it's a damn good idea to prioritize developer happiness, and treat API design the same way Apple treats user interface and product design. If your technology makes people's work fun, they're probably going to embrace it.
If you're building the next big thing in open source, or trying to, please remember this.
You might also like Rails As She Is Spoke, my book about Rails's design.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Why these pigeons look like they bout to drop the most fire album of 2014 pic.twitter.com/1IUnclU0fk— T R I L L D Δ W G (@RolexOnMyDick) April 26, 2014
Why do I feel like these pigeons are about to drop the hottest album of 2014: pic.twitter.com/cpmiMChFiA— Not Will Ferrell (@itsWillyFerrell) April 29, 2014
Friday, April 25, 2014
I built a pair of Tachikomas in the commercial 3D graphics software Cinema 4D:
This software is awesome, but it costs around $3,600. (Fortunately, I'm taking a class on it, and my school set up a free student license for everybody in the class.)
While I was building the robot, I used a wireframe view to make it easier to see what I was doing:
Obviously, this is less fully-developed than the version I did in Cinema 4D. And better animators than me have done far more amazing work with WebGL and Three.js.
And I can teach you.
I made a product where I explain the 3D graphics paradigm. I included a bunch of code in a git repo and I made it easy to follow along. I demo building a TIE Fighter, in real time, and I show you the process of building this Tachikoma in Three.js.
This is a product which includes several videos. In one, I give a presentation which explains the 3D paradigm and setting up the Tachikoma code. In the next video, I show the entire process of building the Tachikoma, very quickly. In the next, I take you through the whole thing slowly and clearly, line by line.
Building the Tachikoma took 18 git commits; I recorded separate, individual videos for 14 out of the 18. Then I edited them all together into one seamless video. Not only that, you can match the stages of the video to the git repo, because I put the git hashes onscreen:
This means you can check out specific commits and follow along as I write the code.
I also highlight random useful third-party libraries, tips, and gotchas:
The line-by-line video is about an hour and fifteen minutes long. But, because I know that a lot of programmers like to move quickly through videos, I've also included a "speed painting" version, set to an original drum-and-bass track which I created. The "speed painting" video condenses the entire hour-plus process of building the Tachikoma down to less than six minutes.
The first video, the presentation video, is about 20 minutes long, and there's another 15-minute video at the end. For fun, I finish the product by showing you how to create some simple animations in Three.js, so you can play around with what you've learned. For instance, I show you how to create these animations:
And this one:
(There's also a fourth bonus animation as well.)
And of course I include the code in the repo. It's another 4 commits, grand total 22.
At least, this is my hope; I can't actually guarantee that. But I can guarantee that if you buy my presentation, you'll be 100% satisfied. If you're not, you can have a full refund.
Since I fully intend to stand by that guarantee, I better be upfront with you about the product's limitations: the audio isn't perfect in the full-length Tachikoma build video, because I had some microphone noise when I was recording it. The file itself is a huge download. The whole product's extremely slanted towards Chrome and OS X users; I didn't test any of this code on other operating systems, and I'm pretty sure some of it only works on Chrome. (I wasn't worried about that because Firefox and Safari will almost certainly catch up, although Internet Explorer never does.)
Lastly, if you don't like bad language, the good news is I tried not to swear anywhere in this product, but the bad news is I failed. The silly bouncing tachikomas animation contains swearing on 8 lines of code. But I only swear once in the actual presentation videos, and it's while reading one of those lines of code, so hey, personal best. Anyway, other than that, I'm pretty happy with this product, and I think you will be too.
So there's a detailed code base, containing a Three.js version of an anime robot, plus four bonus animations (technically the fourth bonus animation is more of an import/export format demo). There's a video which shows you how the bonus animations work. There's a video which shows you how 3D in general works. And there are two videos which show you how to build the Tachikoma -- one fast and one slow. For now, you get all of that for just $41.
Finally, this is a brand new product, and I haven't shown it to anybody yet, so here's a bunch of praise for my other products:
Go ahead and buy this thing! I'm happy with it, I think you will be too, and if you're not, 100% refund.