Redundancy is Repetitive, Inefficient and Counterproductive

But you already know that.

I've long been a supporter of free and open source software, even contributing to a few projects. However, my enthusiasm has cooled a bit in the last several years, as the time I've been able to devote to such projects has both dwindled and been divided among more projects.

I'm continually flabbergasted by the number of open-source projects that cover the same ground, ad infinitum, often with little to no apparent differentiation between them. By continually "reinventing the same wheel," these small projects usually manage to put out a small number of alpha- or beta-quality releases, and then cease to make visible progress. This could be because the original developer(s) became frustrated or distracted; because the project succumbed to internal politics (a leading cause of FLOSS project death); or merely because the developer(s) realised that they were deep in the rut of a path that has been travelled many, many times before.

This flash of obviousness came about as I've been researching and evaluating PHP frameworks for Web development. I've been developing and maintaining sites using a couple of these, notably Kohana 2.3, but for various reasons have been reluctant to make the switch to the now-current 3.0 release. I decided to do a relatively formal, structured evaluation of several of the frameworks out there, rather than just pounce on the first I came across that looked "reasonable." (Silly me, but oh well.) Of course, as my list of frameworks to look at grew from six, to twenty, to considerably more, I became uncomfortable; torn between the reality that I'm doing this all myself (and devoting significantly less than 100% time to the endeavour), but at the same time wanting to remain open to pleasant surprises. After all, "pleasant surprises" were how I stumbled upon Kohana in the first place, and though I am strongly considering using another tool in its place (again, for non-technical reasons), contributing to a megalithic monoculture is not my idea of "adding value."

Today I did something that I should have done a week or two ago: I went out to SourceForge and got a list of all the PHP frameworks registered on the site.

Oh, my effing $DEITY! "Searching gives 1316 results."

Obviously, not all of those are appropriate (there are numerous reinventions of the CMS wheel, for instance); many can be filtered simply because they haven't published updates recently enough to meet my criteria, and so on, but that's all rather beside my current point.

Open-source projects are (in)famously both insular and prolific, leading to the kind of nonsense I ran into on SourceForge. Commercial products have a built-in inhibitor of this particular pathology: if a market gets divided among so many competitors that nobody can cover their costs, then in very short order the existing products will either consolidate into fewer, more sustainable alternatives or die altogether. Open-source projects, particularly those started by people inexperienced in such projects, fail to realise that they too are competing for resources just as much as their commercial brethren. In the FLOSS case, the finite, competed-for resource is time, both of (potential) contributors and of passive users (what the commercial world calls "customers").

Some open-source projects recognise this. In the Linux and Unix/BSD desktop worlds, the "market" for desktop managers (that provide the windows, icons, menus, and so on that are the UI to the user) has been dominated by two projects, KDE and GNOME. Though there are other choices with solid offerings and active communities, a developer can choose to develop for either KDE or GNOME with the confidence that virtually anyone in his target audience will be able to run his software on their system of choice. Consequently, most projects that have to make a choice, choose KDE or GNOME.

The Web is a different beast entirely, and while standards are for the most part very well-defined, the "barrier to entry" for those seeking to do things (allegedly) differently is very low. Some in the PHP Web development community advise new developers to tackle creating their own framework, as a learning tool. I suspect that that's how many of the SourceForge listings originated. I also happen to think that the advice itself is naïve, akin to a new auto mechanic being advised to build his own engine to gain a better understanding of those from Toyota or Ford. What I would recommend instead is that a new developer learn one or two of the more widely-used frameworks, browse around for another two or three that seem interesting, and start contributing to the project(s) of her choice. Virtually all such projects recognise their need for more help, as well as the fact that "we were all newbies once."

Consolidation in the PHP-framework field, while maintaining the low barrier to entry, should be a Good Thing™: to a greater degree than commercial products, FLOSS projects should succeed on their merits, technical and otherwise. As more developers join a well-run project community, the project's software should continue to both improve and find wider user/customer use. The ability to "do your own thing" should be kept, if only as a check against the use of marketing hype over technical merit.

But I believe that relatively small, informal "A- and B-List" groups of selections would be good for projects and developers (and developers' clients); a lot of what I've come across in the last few days would be on my "P-List," if not "ZZZZ."

Oh yeah, by the way: this sort of maturation and shared effort would do wonders for our Craft's progress towards true professional status. Any of us who've had our schedules and budgets tinkered with by people who admit they know nothing of what we do should understand the desirability of that goal. Given the degree to which software permeates public life and policy, that "desirability" has become a dire necessity; it's just more expedient for people to pretend that isn't really the case. Stuxnet, anyone?

Piling On: More Kibitzing about the iPad

What do I think about the new iPad? Glad you asked. What's that? You didn't, really – or not many of you did. But that's OK, really; at least two other writers argue that we're going from an era of "nearly universal literacy" to "nearly universal authorship", so here's my two rupiah worth.

John Gruber, the blogger behind Daring Fireball, is a justly respected voice on a variety of topics, notably all things Apple. Two of his posts on the iPad, The iPad Big Picture and Various and Assorted Thoughts... are a good starting point if you've somehow just managed to crawl out of a bubble that protected you from hearing anything about it for the past, oh, six months or so, or more crucially the last three days. I also enjoyed reading Stephen Fry's thoughts on the device.

But one bit I would recommend above all to anybody who is thinking about "what does this iPad thing/phenomenon really mean?", or anyone who just cares about free expression, open societies, and all the other progress that humanity has made these past few centuries, should seriously ponder Alex Payne's thoughts On the iPad. Al3x makes some very good, if deeply disturbing, points.

As many people have pointed out, the iPad differs in one critical respect from every personal computing device as computing device that Apple have ever built, from the Apple I on up to the iMac that I am typing this on. The iPad is a device, first, foremost and specifically, for the consumption of digital "content". As James Kendrick says, Apple just want us to push the 'Buy' button, in an endless, mindless Pavlovian dystopia.

"Hang on," you say, "it can't really be as bad as all that. You're just pushing histrionics!" I truly hope so. But consider: Apple has sold every Mac, as well as all their earlier models, on the basis of a small group of generally positive, empowering ideas:

• "It just works better."
• "The power to be your best."
• And, of course, "Think different".

One of the (many) things that make the Mac special is the fact that every single Mac sold comes with a copy of the full development toolset for Mac OS X, right in the box. Anybody who wants to invest the time and effort can become a Mac developer. (The money involved, of course, is in buying a Mac in the first place, but you were going to do that anyway, right?) You. The smart-aleck kid down the street. Your Aunt Tillie. Anyone. That has been one of the core strengths of the Apple Mac platform and product; the ability for anyone, without genuflecting before any sort of gatekeeper, to write anything they can conceive of, using some pretty great tools. And thousands, dozens of thousands have. You don't need to be a big corporation. You don't even need to ask Apple's permission, or use Apple's site to market your creation. All you need is an idea, some persistence, and the willingness to learn.

Apple made a radically different statement with the iPhone. If you want to write a "real" app for the iPhone, you need to submit your bits to the App Store, a process that is the seeming antithesis of open, collaborative or fair. As a practical matter, you need to join the iPhone Developer Program, and pay a fee. Doing so will subject you to various license agreements, limitations of what can be developed, and so on.

Apple justified this by saying "hey, the iPhone is a phone, an appliance. We have to keep some control over things, to make sure that our (non-technical) customers have the best possible experience — and incidentally to ensure that we continue to honor agreements we've made with carriers like AT&T." And the developer community grumbled and moaned, but large numbers went along. And the App Store, by almost any measure, is a raging success in the aggregate — even though most individual developers aren't making much at all.

Now comes the iPad, which has been widely, often dismissively, described as a "super-sized iPod Touch." Which, in several senses, it is. But whereas the "iTouch" is an accessory in one's life, being a combination PDA, music player, and (ostensibly) simple application platform, the iPad promises to be all that and more. Specifically, it's being pitched as this "magical" piece of technology which you'll "always" have at hand. Why? Well, you can listen to music on it, or watch videos, or run the same apps you ran on your iTouch or iPhone along with a new generation of "super-sized" apps. Oh, and Apple did announce that their office-software packages would be available on the iPad — so you can use it for "work stuff."

What about the kind of creative outlets that have been highlighted at each Mac introduction since the 1980s? Well, um, good luck with that. Because, even though this is a "real" computer, it's "really not"; it's an up-sized iPod Touch, which is (officially, mostly) a passive device.

The iPad is being pitched as a "magical", but inherently passive, device that consumers will use to buy (or, usually, rent) "content". There'll be "social media" like Facebook, Twitter and so on; the iPhone already supports those. Anything that can be done entirely over the Web, without the use of plugins like Java or Flash (like blogger.com, is kosher, too. But anything truly creative, "revolutionary", "game-changing", is going to have to survive the App Store gauntlet — which means that it's going to have to be consistent with Apple's view of how the iPad "should" be used. As a passive device which consumers use to buy access to content.

Think "57 Channels and Nothing On," a million times over. Perfect for the top-down, don't-make-me-think society. (I'm sure it will be very popular here in Singapore, for precisely that reason.)

Apple, you can do better. We know, because you've mostly done much better before, and encouraged us, developers and users, to do great things with what you've built for us. The iPad isn't so much a step in the wrong direction, it's a leap of faith worthy of Wile E. Coyote — but we know how far off the edge of the cliff we've gone. And the only way to go from here, is down.

ANFSD: Newman and Redford, Not Streisand and Farrow

The leads in the classic 1973 movie, "The Sting", of course. Both leads were male, playing roles that were prototypically male in our social order. Why is that?

Clay Shirkey has some ideas about that, which he wrote up as "A Rant About Women". Not "A Rant Against Women", mind you. Some did not see that as a difference that makes a difference, notably Zo at this post on her (misnamed) humorlessbitch.com blog. This post, beyond this explanatory header, is my comment to her blog-post-as-comment, the 190th comment in 30 hours. I have slightly reformatted it, as the original was only able to use CAPS for emphasis.

A tip of the hat to Venessa Miemis (@venessamiemis on Twitter) for tweeting about this.

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Maybe this is because I have the ability to look at this as a Shirkeyesque male who “only told lies I could live up to, and I knew when to stop.” The sorry fact that he’s pointing out – too obliquely – is that many/most arenas of professional and creative endeavour have been created, led and/or taken over by men who fit the portrait that Shirkey is painting. Risk-taking, self-promotion and so on are seen as predominantly “male” character aspects/flaws, in large part because society has been and is fundamentally sexist – and is likely to remain so unless and until women can function within the existing framework successfully enough to alter it.

That’s what I get from reading Shirkey’s piece; not a snarky bit of braggadocio that “men are on top because we know how to game the system,” so much as “until increasing numbers of women in a variety of fields – professional, academic, artistic, and so on – can work within this aspect of the system, it won’t be changed.” Not because change wouldn’t benefit men as well as women. It would. But rather, because those “gatekeepers” who control the system, having got to where they are now by gaming the system, lack the will if not the means to change it.

We are at a turning point in human history, of a kind that hasn’t been seen in well over a thousand years. Institutions and conventions are changing all around us, and, not knowing how to change and survive, they change and die. Others watch the process attentively, determined against reality to avoid the same fate. But if we do NOT come up with a way to fundamentally change our society, to make it more equitable, transparent and open, we risk a new Dark Ages that will compare to the European mediaeval one as a broken fingernail compares to a petrol bomb.

I believe that is what Shirkey fears, as do I.

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Comments, please.