"The line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either — but right through every human heart."
— Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
What a year 2025 has been already... While I'd planned for my next post to be technical, plans rarely survive first contact with reality. In a previous piece, I promised to delve deeper into what I consider an existential threat to open source – a claim that might have seemed alarmist just weeks ago, before chaos became our new normal. On the eve of the US presidential inauguration, it feels fitting to explore this topic, as the incoming administration will inevitably reshape our digital landscape, for better or worse. If you can bear with me for one more politically charged post, I promise to follow up with a series focused on Ekala's progress and design. So without further ado, let's dive in.
The Personal is Political
If you've read any of my previous posts or know me personally, you know I've often avoided politics like the plague. Not out of fear so much as utter shame at what politics has become — a realm of rabid dishonesty, posturing, and self-destructive tendencies masquerading as "special interests".
However, as I get older, I've been compelled to reassess this position, as I'm forced to reconsider virtually all of my internal assumptions as I make my way through life. Successful or no, I wish to make an earnest attempt to drive the conversation in a more reasoned, deliberate, and hopefully productive direction. Though I may be setting myself up for failure — after all, I'm just one nerd trying to navigate the treacherous waters of modern political discourse. By all means, decide for yourselves.
But I digress, as part of coming to terms with how politics affects both my personal and professional life, you might remember from one of my previous posts that I recently ended my decade-long exile from social media. I wanted to start this piece with a summary of my experience so far, to hopefully give the reader some context around my ramblings, we'll see if I succeed...
𝕏 Marks the Spot
My journey on 𝕏 since July has been difficult to summarize, but, to start, I'm not sure describing it as "positive" would be wholly honest at this point. It has certainly been quite jarring at times, to say the least. Allow me to caveat this by saying it hasn't been all bad, but this experience has crystallized my understanding of modern social instability, transforming vague intuitions into visceral comprehension — I don't think I could design a better tool for psychological manipulation and instability if I tried, frankly.
But my time on the platform has been a mixed bag, really. On the upside, I feel more plugged into what's happening, though whether I'm actually better informed is debatable. I've built some genuine connections too — despite my modest following, I've found myself enjoying real conversations and slowly making actual friends. And I'd be lying if I didn't admit that memes have become my new addiction.
But the platform's darker side is impossible to ignore. There's this growing existential dread inside me — and while I can't blame it all on 𝕏, doom-scrolling certainly isn't helping. What's particularly concerning are the patterns I'm seeing: worrying trends among younger users, and equally disappointing behavior from my generation and older. Perhaps most troubling, though, is how it's hammered my attention span and focus.
And it's not just me. In a year that's already seen unprecedented attacks in the Red Sea, devastating fires & floods in California, and mounting global tensions, our collective ability to process and respond to crisis seems more important than ever. Yet social media's constant doom cycle paradoxically numbs us to real issues while amplifying manufactured ones.
As if this cascade of global crises wasn't enough — from supply chain disruptions to social upheavals to AI regulation battles — the tech community seems to be fracturing right when we need collaboration most. All of this has me reconsidering my approach.
What started as an experiment in engagement has become an unwitting study in human nature and power dynamics. It's also, frankly, an exercise in self control, even for someone who has grown to rely on their own ability to remain disciplined. Perhaps I need to take planned hiatus periodically, or hire an account manager? Not yet sure...
Whatever the case, the real connections I've made are valuable, but my original criticisms of social media haven't just persisted — they've been validated more strongly than ever. For our purposes, though, there is one particular aspect that I have been thinking about a lot lately that ties into the topics I'd like to discuss in the rest of this post.
My experience on 𝕏 has highlighted a particularly troubling pattern: the replacement of meaningful discourse with performance. Where social media could be a powerful tool for knowledge sharing and mentorship, it instead rewards degredation into a arena of posturing and point-scoring. I've now watched countless opportunities for genuine learning transform into gladiatorial spectacles of utterly unfulfilling "dunks" & "ratios".
While there is some real social utility in well placed ridicule, the majority of cases seem to boil down to crude gamification, sadly. But this isn't just about social media behavior — it's symptomatic of a deeper cultural shift in how we approach knowledge transfer and personal growth all together.
From Mentor to Memelord & (Hopefully) Back Again
There's been a concerning shift in our culture, particularly visible in western masculinity. Social media and our hyper-competitive society seem to have transformed what it means to be a "successful man". The old ideal of success through mentorship and discipline has been replaced by two equally troubling archetypes: the dominant personality who succeeds through belittlement and bullying, and the passive observer who maintains their position by carefully avoiding confrontation with these same bullies.
This creates a self-reinforcing cycle where authentic leadership through mentorship is gradually and deliberately pushed out of our spaces. The bullies dominate the conversation while many who could challenge them choose silence for self-preservation. While there are still exceptional individuals bucking this trend, even they seem increasingly burnt out; worn down by endless waves of entitled demands and online trolling.
We've lost something essential: the understanding that growth requires the courage and the freedom to make mistakes. In a culture where every misstep is weaponized and every moment of ignorance becomes ammunition, people retreat into safe, predefined boundaries rather than risk genuine growth. I understand this instinct deeply — I have certainly experienced some very real consequences from speaking up, including potential threats to my career. Yet here I am, still writing, still engaging. Not because I'm special or particularly brave, but simply because speech is the only way to effect change. In short: the cost of speaking up is real, but the cost of collective silence is far greater.
We see the results of this silence everywhere: excellence has become increasingly rare, when it should be our standard. While not everyone will reach the top 1%, that's not really the point — the goal should be continuous self-improvement; growing and sharing with others along the way. The current culture, however, punishes the dips in this journey when we should be viewing them as opportunities for growth and mentorship, at least more often than we do.
And, to be clear, a mentoring culture isn't just about the teacher, it's just as much about the student mentality. The need to be perfect belies our curious nature and our genuine desire to grow; worse, it actively discourages potential assistance. If you have ever attempted to help someone with a defeatist attitude, or an obsessive need to know or control it all, I needn't say more.
As far as I can tell, this mentorship crisis reflects a deeper cultural confusion about strength and leadership. And whatever the cause, we clearly have a very hard time, nowadays, understanding and agreeing on the productive role of masculinity in all of it. It's worse, in fact: we can't even seem to agree on a definition.
And just now, more than ever, we really seem to need to know the answer to move forward in any meaningful direction.
What Is a Man?
The real challenge of masculinity isn't in rejecting or fully embracing our aggressive impulses — it's learning to channel them productively. Just as martial arts masters teach that we learn combat to ensure peace, healthy masculinity requires understanding our strength so we can use it wisely.
What we're missing isn't less masculinity, but rather its mature expression: the kind that builds up rather than tears down, that guides rather than dominates, that acts rather than merely postures. True masculinity isn't about performative strength on social media — it's about having the backbone to stand up for what's right, the wisdom to know when and how to act, and the patience to guide others along their journey.
Yet the endless rhetoric around gender has left little room for discussing the unique strengths and contributions of either of the sexes. I can only speak for myself and say it goes beyond mere protection or equality — as a man, I am glad; even honored, to consider the women in my life more precious than myself. This protective instinct — this drive to shield and support those we care about most with our lives — represents, to me, masculinity at its most refined.
Still, we've heard ad nauseum, that acknowledging any fundamental differences between men and women is heresy. Perhaps I shouldn't, but I'll just say that the growing chorus of female athletes speaking out against the erosion of their sports stands as testament to the real-world consequences of ignoring biological reality. But I'm not here to argue these points — I'm here to highlight how this ideological enforcement has begun to poison technical spaces that once transcended such divisions.
Throughout my career, I've maintained that technical spaces should remain focused on technical merit. When forced to engage in politically charged debates — often deliberately instigated — my argument has consistently been for maintaining neutral, technical spaces where our shared mission takes precedence over individual ideologies. Yet even this basic advocacy for political neutrality has been recast as aggression — a clever but transparent attempt to claim moral authority while actively undermining the very "inclusivity" they claim to protect.
When Principles Collide
During my tenure in the NixOS ecosystem, I operated under the assumption that personal and political differences were irrelevant to our shared technical interests, and hoped, perhaps naively, that I'd find the same consideration in return. My long absence from social media may have been a blessing — had I been more jaded before becoming heavily invested in NixOS, things might have played out differently. Though I am far from perfect, I take pride in maintaining professional discourse, critiquing ideas rather than identities, regardless of how aggressive others' politics become. In the end, though, sometimes the greatest service you can offer is simply maintaining your principles when others abandon theirs.
Earlier, I touched on how the bully-pushover dynamic leaves no room for true leadership qualities like mentorship and competance. What we witnessed and thoroughly documented in RFC 175 demonstrates this perfectly: power so entrenched it had become casually, almost lazily tyrannical. The greatest threat to such entrenched power isn't opposition — it's genuine leadership. Those who take initiative to solve real problems, who demonstrate authentic mentorship, who build rather than control — these are the people who must be demonized or eliminated first by the manipulator.
Understanding this dynamic is crucial for defending against future political attacks. The systematic resistance to actual leadership isn't accidental — it's a deliberate strategy, whether driven by instinctual self-preservation or calculated power maintenance. Those who hold power through manipulation cannot allow genuine merit-based leadership to flourish.
Our approach to RFC 175 revealed this dynamic in action. We maintained professionalism throughout our documentation, limiting ourselves to public information despite having access to more damning private evidence. We chose cooperation over confrontation, building our case solely from public discourse. The response? Immediate banning, while critics were free to mischaracterize our motivations in a proposal aimed at addressing demonstrably broken governance.
What followed was even more revealing. After nearly two weeks of forced silence on our own RFC, we were finally "allowed" to speak, but by then the damage was largely done. Next came the open letter calling for Eelco's resignation — which, ironically, we watched being ghost-written in real-time thanks to a leaked shared document from someone apparently troubled by the backroom dealings.
The final act came months later. Despite moving on to discussions about what would eventually become Ekala; limiting my involvement in NixOS to answering newcomers' questions on Discourse, I was quietly banned for "regularly heated debates" after commenting on yet another weaponization of political rhetoric during the constitutional "election." They simultaneously banned my RFC co-author and another associate who hadn't even spoken out, using the same generic charge. The brazenness alone revealed how smug they'd become in their authority. This, after years of effectively challenging their rhetoric through nothing but logic and organic community support (I haven't even touched on RFC 111 from years back).
I document these events not to settle scores, but to correct an increasingly doctored record. People often encounter fragments of these discussions — carefully edited by now — and accept the painted narrative of me as some radical agitator. The irony is profound: in this context, I represent exactly the marginalized voice they claim to defend. I had no coalition, no special interest group, no funding — just my voice, my now friends who've been similarly ostracized, and the occasional supporter willing to stand with me.
This serves as a reminder that even a few people willing to resist tyranny can hold it at bay for quite some time. While I wasn't alone, I was perhaps one of the most persistent and tactical critics, for a time. My agenda was transparently simple: I wanted Nix to be the best it could be — the same motivation that now drives my work on Ekala.
But this isn't merely a personal grievance or isolated incident. The philosophical framework that enabled the NixOS takeover by politically entrenched radicals is, unfortunately, spreading. These events serve as a microcosm of a much more pressing concern. In 2024 alone, we witnessed similar patterns in the Linux kernel community, Python's governance debates, and numerous other high-profile projects. The timing and tactics are too similar to be coincidental.
A Coordinated Takedown?
Whether these politically charged takeovers of high-profile open-source ecosystems are deliberately coordinated or simply the product of mass hysteria hardly matters. What's become painfully clear is that this pattern extends far beyond NixOS, representing a potentially coordinated effort across the broader open source realm.
The motive is equally unimportant. There could be a thousand reasons why powerful entities might want to control open source, using hot-button issues that reasonable people avoid like the plague is just "good politics", in that respect. The sheer number of incidents even across such eminent projects as Linux, Python, and others — using identical tactics and rhetoric — appears to indicate a success, on their part.
The sad reality is that the damage is largely already done in many of these projects. The only remaining hope lies in the utterly defiant nature that kickstarted, and still smolders, however faintly, at the bedrock of the entire open source endeavor.
The problem runs deeper than politics. The obsessive need to levy a particular political agenda is philosophically and logically opposed to the core tenets of open source and free software. We foolishly tried to juggle incompatible ideologies. Freedom cannot coexist with compulsion — it's a contradiction in terms. Attempting to force one political perspective, however righteous you believe it to be, fundamentally opposes the foundation of the open source ecosystem itself.
"Freedom cannot coexist with compulsion — it's a contradiction in terms."
Corporate Capture
In the corporate realm, politics revolves around image. Considerable behind-the-scenes effort goes into crafting an "organic" appearance. Whether this approach serves corporations is beside the point — what matters is that this corporate status quo seems to have transplanted wholesale into the open source world. The specific political agenda is irrelevant; what matters is that the mechanisms now mirror corporate culture.
This transplant is more devastating than it might appear on the surface. Open source doesn't operate like the corporate world. Corporations function within capitalism, while open source, at its core, resembles the ancient gift economies of tribal communities. Contributions flow from need and community sustenance, not expectation of return.
This corporate takeover particularly threatens the mentorship culture that built open source. Corporate structures favor quick results over deep understanding, and metrics over mastery. When projects prioritize political compliance over technical merit, experienced developers who could mentor others either leave or stay silent. The result? A self-reinforcing cycle where corporate control grows stronger as the community's capacity for self-guidance diminishes.
The deadly nature of this shift cannot be overstated. Mimicking corporate political theater — fundamentally based in capitalistic mindsets — is antithetical to an ecosystem that, in principle, exists entirely outside that economic framework, but these aren't just theoretical concerns.
Shifting Tides
The available statistics tell a stark story of this corporate capture in action. We're witnessing significant changes in open source governance, with major projects like Redis, HashiCorp, and Red Hat making controversial licensing changes in 2024. The real numbers are likely higher — many developers simply fade away quietly rather than risk professional backlash for speaking out.
This exodus creates a vacuum that's increasingly filled by corporate interests and their proxies. Recent trends tell the story: a surge in proprietary relicensing as developers seek protection from exploitation, rising incidents of maintainer burnout, and a growing movement toward more restrictive licenses. Even successful projects aren't immune to these pressures as the balance between commercial interests and open source principles becomes increasingly complex.
For the average developer, these changes aren't just abstract governance issues. They affect daily work: which tools you can use, how you can share your code, even how you can advance your career. When projects fall under corporate control, decisions about features, compatibility, and access increasingly serve shareholder interests rather than developer needs. The mentorship vacuum means fewer opportunities to learn from experienced developers, leaving newcomers to navigate increasingly complex ecosystems alone.
Accelerating Crisis
The rise of AI has only accelerated this crisis. As corporations race to train models on open source code, the pressure to control these resources has intensified. We're seeing a shift from contribution-based communities to extraction-based ones, where corporate interests mine open source for training data while contributing little of substance in return. The same political mechanisms used to capture project governance are now being leveraged to ensure unrestricted access to these valuable training resources.
The pace itself is dizzying enough to be utterly demoralizing. In just a few short months, the ideals that founded and sustained open source seem to have been placed on life support, fading further from relevance as we hurdle toward a world where truth is simply determined by whoever has the most powerful model. In the last 24 hours alone, I've heard increasingly pessimistic sentiments about the nature and rapidly accelerating scope of this change from hackers I've long respected. One thing seems to be shared in common: the times no longer make sense, and they seem to be making less sense as we go along.
Finding North in a Digital Storm
So where does that leave us? I'd be lying if I said I was optimistic. The last few months have pushed me into perhaps the most pressing existential crisis of my life — both from events I've described and personal challenges in my own life. Yet through this difficult soul searching, I've found insights that may prove useful in mounting an effective resistance.
The battle for open source's soul may already be lost, on many fronts, yet the very intensity of efforts to stamp out free software's founding principles suggests their enduring power. The war may not be over just yet. Open implementations of protocols like TCP/IP and ecosystems like C still form much of the bedrock of our modern world. Will we really allow the rest of these precious resources to fall under the intoxicating sway of centralized control, one by one?
A Return to Fundamentals
Ideas matter. While trendy ideologies might seem harmless, their long-term consequences can be devastating. Prioritizing superficial "social justice" over genuine freedom and measurable outcomes has led us precisely where many predicted — to a landscape where coordinated efforts ruthlessly resist all perceived threats to narrative control.
The response must be equally unapologetic: a return to well-reasoned, provably sound principles. Not through compromise that dilutes our ideals, but through coordinated resistance across disparate groups who understand what's at stake.
Practical Resistance: The Ekala Way
Rather than just theorize, let me share how we're approaching these challenges in Ekala. Our strategy isn't revolutionary — it's a return to fundamentals, centered around what I've come to call "thought driven development."
Thinking Carefully
My philosophy toward development centers around careful thought and consideration from first principles. While the tech industry rushes to push MVPs and quick prototypes, some problems require deeper contemplation. Ekala aims to solve challenges in Nix that aren't even trivial to understand, much less solve.
This approach isn't easy, even for me. Nobody wants an eka prototype more than I do. But after a decade of Nix exposure, I've learned that rushing solutions often creates more problems than it solves. The atom prototype came together in weeks precisely because of years spent thinking through the problems.
A Foundational Ethic
Before writing any code for Ekala, I addressed what I saw as a fundamental challenge: the ideological capture of open source projects through carefully crafted governance documents. Facing this hydra head-on, we developed the Hackers' Ethic, centered on the maxim: primum nullum cogitatum impedire: first, hinder no thought.
This isn't about rejecting structure or responsibility — it's about building ethical frameworks that promote innovation rather than control and ossification of the status quo. While the Hackers' Ethic will evolve, it already provides an antidote to the vague, manipulative governance documents that have become all too common, serving as a powerful spring board for our efforts, ensuring they remain true to their original intent.
Building Resilience
Ekala takes inspiration from distributed systems — resilience through interconnection rather than central control. We're deliberately taking time to let natural governance patterns emerge rather than imposing rigid structures. Our focus remains on solving real problems: automating workflows, improving developer experience, and building tools that last.
Whether Ekala succeeds or fails, the principles behind it matter: careful thought, ethical foundations, and genuine community building over political capture. But principles alone aren't enough — we need action.
Taking Action
While Ekala represents one approach to resistance, there are immediate steps any developer can take to protect and nurture genuine open source culture:
Join and actively support projects that maintain clear boundaries between politics and code. Look for projects where technical discussions remain focused on technical merit.
Document and share your experiences with project governance changes. When you witness political capture attempting to override technical concerns, speak up thoughtfully and maintain records.
Build and maintain connections with respected maintainers outside official channels. These relationships often become crucial when official communication channels become compromised.
Don't hesitate to fork projects when governance becomes corrupted. While maintaining a fork requires significant effort, it's sometimes the only way to preserve a project's original vision.
Create opportunities for genuine mentorship, both as mentor and mentee. Even small interactions — helping a newcomer debug code, sharing hard-won experience — help maintain our ecosystem's knowledge-sharing tradition.
Support initiatives that prioritize technical merit over political compliance. Your involvement, whether through code contributions or simply speaking up in discussions, helps maintain spaces for genuine technical innovation.
Just Be a Mentor
The solution lies in courage — both individual and collective. A mentor isn't necessarily a role model; I certainly don't recommend anyone follow my difficult path. But I can share what I've learned, assist where I can, learn from the best, and contribute to rebuilding a culture of genuine mentorship.
This isn't about transactions or authority. It's about recognizing our dual nature as both teachers and students, experts and beginners. True mentorship requires giving and receiving, understanding that our existence is endlessly dynamic — sometimes growing, sometimes shrinking, always changing.
I don't have all the answers. But I know that taking action aligned with genuine principles, however flawed our execution, matters more than comfortable silence. Whether Ekala succeeds or fails, at least I'll know I stood for something I consider to be real.
The Path Forward
As 2025 unfolds with unprecedented global instability, the battle for open source's soul might seem insignificant. Yet the principles we're fighting for — freedom of thought, genuine collaboration, merit-based development — matter now more than ever. In a world where AI threatens to centralize power and corporate interests steadily erode developer independence, maintaining truly open spaces for innovation isn't just idealistic — it's essential for our collective future.
What we're witnessing isn't just another tech industry trend. It's almost certainly a coordinated effort to replace merit-based governance with political control, systematically dismantling the mentorship culture that built our community. The pattern is clear: corporate capture follows a predictable path, using governance changes and political pressure to silence technical voices. Each silenced voice, each compromised project, brings us closer to a tipping point from which recovery becomes increasingly difficult.
The solution won't come from grand manifestos or corporate initiatives. It will come from individuals willing to stand firm, to mentor rather than dictate, to build rather than control. Whether through contributing to projects like Ekala, maintaining independent open source efforts, or simply speaking up when governance goes astray, each of us has more power than we realize. Every small act of resistance matters — every time we choose merit over politics, every time we help another developer grow, not just in skill, but in understanding.
The time for comfortable silence has passed. If you value the principles that made open source revolutionary — if you believe in the power of shared knowledge and genuine collaboration — then stand up. Mentor someone. Build something real. The tools of resistance are in your hands.