Learning about community. And an apology

It’s been a frustrating time for anyone even vaguely interested in reading this blog: it’s been up and down like a yo-yo. My apologies.

Last Thursday my account was suspended by the hosting company, on the grounds that it had been reported as a phishing site. To my shock they were right. So the site was taken down, passwords changed, the offending file was located and removed, and, with a little help from friends, the site was brought back up.

I then decided to upgrade to WordPress 2.5.1 to try and improve site security. With a wobble or two, we got there.

Then on Sunday my account was suspended for a second time. This time for trying to send over 500 mails an hour. Something was rotten in the state of my blog.

So there was nothing else for it. Zap the blog. Reset everything. Start again from scratch. Hope the backups work. And again, with a little help from my friends, it was all right on the night.

There were many offers of help, many who did help, particularly at i-together and at osmosoft. You know who you are. Prepare for dinner. Sumptuous ones.

All this made me think. Common civility requires us to stay away from groups and crowds when we’re infected with physical viruses like the common cold. The same is true for the devices we attach to the web, and for the assets we deploy on the devices.

Musing about “commercial” development of Linux

There’s an interesting study of Linux kernel development that’s been doing the rounds recently. Published this month by the Linux Foundation, it makes for fascinating reading.

While it concentrates on the kernel itself, the report is still exhaustive:

  • Covers a period of over 3 years
  • Spread over 14 kernel releases
  • Relating to 3621 lines added, 1550 lines removed and 1425 lines changed
  • Forming the output of over 3600 developers from over 270 companies

Some of the key takeaways include:

  • The individual development community has doubled in the period under review
  • The top 10 individual developers accounted for over 15% of the output
  • The top 30 individual developers accounted for around 30%
  • The top 10 contributing “groups”, including companies, account for over 75% of the output

But the most important assertion made by the report is the following:

Over 70% of kernel development is demonstrably done by developers who are being paid for their work

And you know something? I agree with a lot of the report; there is a lot that I have learnt from the report. But that one conclusion, that nearly three-fourths of development is carried out by paid developers, that doesn’t quite sit well with me.

I could be way off beam here, but my hunch is that the conclusion could be wrong. Why? I think it has something to do with the Because Effect.

Yes, the developers are paid. Yes, they are paid for their work. What I am less sure of is that the work they get paid for is the work that contributes to the kernel. Over the years I have been in many situations where developers have asked me whether they can contribute to opensource projects, but much of it has had to do with things like opening ports.

I am sure that a very high percentage of the output (in the Linux kernel, over the last three years) has come from employees of commercial organisations. But my gut feel is that these developers contributed the effort and the code because it made their jobs easier, because their contributions helped them solve problems, rather than because they were directed to complete “assignments” or “work packages” related to the kernel.

It’s a question of motive.

As more and more firms adopt Linux the community of developers will grow. This is not surprising. As more and more firms adopt Linux there is more of a market for other firms to make money because of Linux rather than with Linux. This is also not surprising. And a small number of firms will actually continue to make money with Linux, if you want to call the sale of distros and support and documentation and training and consultancy a “with” proposition.

As all this happens, the bulk of the growth in consumption of Linux takes place in commercial organisations, so it is not surprising that the bulk of development of the kernel takes place via the efforts of people in those organisations.

My hunch, however, remains. This is not paid work. It is voluntary work done by people who do get paid, paid to do other things.

I may have got this completely wrong, and am happy to be proved wrong. I will learn.

Views?

Want a break from being rickrolled? Here you are

Tara Hunt recently tweeted that she doesn’t click on links any more, she just assumes that everything is a rickroll. And I have some sympathy with that view: it’s not just the videos that have gone viral, it’s the process itself.

So for Tara and for others amongst you who feel similarly, here’s a link that’s not a rickroll.

Not a rickroll

I couldn’t believe it when I saw it. You know that feeling you get when you think something must be a gag, an April Fool of some sort, and then you slowly realise “maybe not…”.

That’s all I’m going to say. Click away.

Taking the long view: Or, Don’t Float Your Bloat

Bob Frankston pointed me at this Dan Bricklin piece a few days ago, suggesting it was good background for a discussion that a number of us were having about infrastructure. [Thanks, Bob. And thanks to Dan as well, great piece. Something to discuss over dinner next time we meet.]

Dan draws out a number of themes in the essay, each worth analysis in its own right. And that is not what I intend to do in this post. Another time, maybe even another place. Instead, what I want to concentrate on is the implications of one particular aspect of Dan’s essay, depreciation:

Today, hardware is capable enough that software can be written that will continue to run unmodified as hardware is changed. Computers are no longer new alternatives to other applications — they are the only alternative. Despite this, old thinking and methodologies have remained.
Computers and computer software have been viewed as being valuable for no longer than common short-term durable goods like an automobile or sometimes even tires. In accounting, common depreciation terms for software are 3 to 5 years; 10 at most. Contrast this to residential rental property which is depreciated over 27.5 years and water mains and brick walls which are depreciated over 60 years or more.

I’ve known about this for many years, yet somehow I haven’t appreciated something about depreciation. This may be because I’ve tended to work in environments where the preference is to treat software investment as cash rather than as something to be capitalised.

There were many reasons for this: the avoidance of burdening future generations, a sins-of-the-father variant; the frustrations of reviewing software asset portfolios at year-end, and having to cope with material swings in annual outturns driven by write-offs; the apparent illogic of bothering to capitalise software that was not going to be fit for purpose in less than two years.

I’ll say it again. The apparent illogic of bothering to capitalise software that was not going to be fit for purpose in less than two years.

Probably influenced by Nicholas Carr’s seminal article and book, many people have already classified IT as a utility: standardised, commoditised, scalable, infrastructural, available on tap. I only wish it were true. It will be one day. But we’re not there yet. [Incidentally, he’s written a very interesting mini-piece on Amazon and AWS here, a segue on this Wired article, something I will comment on in a few days.]

Reading Dan’s essay, I realise there is a simple way of my finding out when “IT won’t matter”. A leading indicator, as it were.

IT “won’t matter” when software depreciation periods start pushing out to reflect the periods prevalent in construction industries and utilities.

This has already begun to happen, particularly in infrastructural IT, an area where opensource software is dominant. [And no surprise!]

And it’s going to accelerate with the arrival of software as a service. When you’re providing a quality service at a competitive price, you’re not going to be fiddling around with the gubbins of the service every time it rains. Nobody can afford to.

Sure, we have forces operating in the other direction. People still get paid to design and deliver “planned obsolescence”. Even worse, bloatware is common, even endemic.

This will change. It has to. More and more of what we call software today will become infrastructure, reliable, consistent, with a long shelf-life. Carr will be proved right, as far as this is concerned.

But it doesn’t stop there. Because infrastructural software is necessary but not sufficient for a sustainable business, particularly one which relies on knowledge workers.

Innovation will continue, even thrive, “at the edge”. And at this edge, we will still build software. Mayfly applications that last for a day, a trade, a project. Disposable software. Radioactive software with a short half-life. And these applications will be built on a “cash” basis. Markets will move faster, not slow down. Exciting times, where software is both a utility as well as the engine of creativity.

For all this to happen, we need to see changes. Particularly an end to Bloatware.

Don’t Float Your Bloat. Because that don’t float my boat.

Of shoes and money …. and information

I’ve spent the best part of three decades immersed in large organisations: watching and observing them, working for them, working in them. With very few exceptions, I have found the following to be true of large organisations:

  • We stress the importance of human resources, human talent, human capital
  • We stress the importance of teamwork and collaboration
  • We stress the importance of openness and transparency
  • We stress the importance of trust

And then, mysteriously, we somehow manage to create an environment where we jealously guard information; where we seek to create and extend power as a result of this jealous guarding; where we then exploit this power in all kinds of ways, some less abhorrent than others (but all abhorrent, at least to me).

Given all the other values that are stressed, I’ve often wondered why this happens. And in a Sunday night frame of mind, I’d like to postulate one possible reason:

Let me try and explain it by using one of my favourite Peter Drucker quotations:

People make shoes, not money.

People aren’t interested in medical records, they’re interested in getting well, and staying well. People aren’t interested in bills and receipts, they’re interested in knowing that they did what they said they will do, or that they received what they expected to receive. People aren’t interested in financial statements, they’re interested in what they can do as a result of the security that income and savings and insurance and pensions. People aren’t interested in TV or radio schedules, they’re interested in watching things and listening to things. People aren’t interested in share prices and market movements, they’re interested in the things they can do as a result of performing their jobs well. It’s not the information that matters, but what we can do as a result.

People make shoes, not money.

Of course information has value in the sense that it lets you do things as a result of your having information. And not do things as a result of your not having information. But this value is not something we can impute to information per se.

It’s a bit like saying a car key has value by itself. Sure, it lets you drive the car. And if you didn’t have the key then driving the car becomes somewhat more difficult.

But by itself it’s nothing. It’s just a key.

Take a television schedule. Not much use without something to watch television with (even if it’s a Mac rather than a telly). Or take a telephone directory, not much use unless you have a telephone (even if it is a camera or game console pretending to be a phone).

[This is also why IT systems by themselves have no value; value is derived from adoption, from usage. If we don’t understand this, we’ll never answer the age-old question of the “business value of IT”].

I know I’m making a big deal out of this, but there’s a reason. Humour me on this.

Once we impute value to information, we create a reason for people to have secrets. To hide things.

And then it’s a downward spiral. Does it make sense to hide things from your customer? Does it make sense to have asymmetric information within the firm? Once we start acting as if information has value by and of itself, it is only a matter of time before people start using this information to gain personal advantage within the firm.

And once this happens, we can forget about all the nice things we say organisations stand for: openness, transparency, teamwork, collaboration, respect for the individual. Trust. We can forget about all of it, because we allow the very basis of this to be corrupted.

Take a completely different perspective on all this. Privacy. Why does someone worry about who has access to his medical records? Not because the records themselves have value. But because someone can misuse them. Because, for example, someone can refuse to insure, or raise premiums for, some hitherto undeclared medical condition. Or even worse, for some future projected medical condition, projected as a result of discovered habits.

It’s not about the information, it’s about what you do with it.

When we had no language, we may have had information, but I wouldn’t know how we knew that we had information.

Once we had oral language, we had information. Much of it was passed from generation to generation without fear or favour. Then, somewhere along the line, people figured out that hoarding information gave them some form of power. And out of that came caste systems and class systems. And a few wars.

It was all about power. Not value.

When we moved from oral to written language, we still had information. But now we could store some of it, and share some of it. But people figured out, if only there was a way to control who could read and write, then the power would remain.

Along came the printing press. Same story. If only there was a way to control who could print and distribute, the power would remain.

Minor skirmishes have been fought on this topic for the last 150 years or so, covering the post and telegraph, radio, film, television, vinyl, tapes, CDs, the lot. If only we could control the copying process and the distribution process, the power would remain.

Well, the genie’s out of the bottle. The horse has bolted. Choose your cliche. Because that’s all there is, cliche.

As reproduction, transmission and storage costs continue their drive towards zero, it’s going to get even worse. Information is an extreme nonrival good, needing artificial intervention to sustain its value. And every artificial scarcity will be met with an artificial abundance. Piracy. Cracking. Whatever you want to call it.

Ideas are free, and will continue to be free. So will information. Or, as Doc Searls keeps reminding me, in the words of our mutual friend Don Marti, information wants to be $5.99.

Information will continue to have value, but that value will tend towards the cost of collecting, processing, storing and retrieving that information. And while there is a cost, the price may still be zero, as ways are found to defray the cost with attention in one form or another.

There is something magical happening. We’ve had language for a very long time. We’ve had the capacity to read and write for a very long time. The costs of reproduction and transmission and storage have dropped remarkably, and that changes many things.

But there is a bigger change. A change brought about by the digital world. Now we can archive and retrieve information, search and find it. This has never happened before. And it is huge.

So.

Information is changing. And it is becoming more valuable to us all by becoming less valuable to any one of us.

Let us bear that in mind as we move on. We should concentrate on providing good service and good product, concentrate on providing that service honestly and diligently. And the money will flow. Not by hoarding information, but by freeing it up. Collaborating with each other, within the firm, with our customers, with our partners, with our markets. Even with our competitors. [Actually we do that already, but in a closed way. It’s called a cartel.]

[Incidentally, the working title for this post was one possible response to the question “but how do we make money if we don’t hoard information?”…..monetise this! But it sounded rude and so I dropped it.]