I remember taking Mechanics of Programming in my second semester of RIT. When looking at compiled C code, our instructor asserted: the compiler is smarter than me. I am not, by any means, smarter than it. We stand on the shoulders of giants: tons of research, optimization, and formalization went into building these toolchains.

I was always amazed that such tools were freely available, to use and to learn from. But I hadn’t thought about how they got here: what ideas, people, and resources made them a reality.

Where does it come from?

I guess I’m not alone in that trend. Common practice today is to pull down the code, or build, of some other individual, not thinking too much about how it got there or what keeps it there. Node (and most recently, Docker) are great examples of this mentality. Docker encourages pulling prebuilt images without much verification. Any typo in the image name, or namejacking that a malicious actor could perform, would seriously impact the ecosystem, especially with growing concerns over container security.

Trust itself is a difficult subject, and can often result in an unproductive rabbit hole. But pulling from essentially random sources has proven to be dangerous, or risky at the very least. It’s good to encourage thought, involving where that infrastructure comes from. What is the Docker hub went down? How many malicious images are typos, that are running on company machines? What could one small change to a popular Node package mean for a large portion of the web?

The mentality behind the culture

The author discusses how some open source project leads just kinda got thrown into it when their project “took off”. This highlights two very interesting things about the current ecosystem: most notably, the ability of the maintainers and adopters.

Maintainers are likely not experts in their domain: within the domain they work, they saw a problem, and developed a solution. This solution might be for themselves or a community/business/other group, but likely wasn’t made to change the domain. If it does change the domain, what are the lasting consequences? How fit is that individual/group to oversee development of a popular project?

Adopters are likely to adopt when a project solves a solution well. Fragmentation is a big problem, for which Docker was a nice solution. Instead of worrying about versioning of libraries and setting up various tools, a developer could ship their project in a ready-to-go container. The potential security issues with this solution were overlooked, because the project itself was so convenient, and (otherwise) solved the problem so well. If a user is careful to check their sources and be wary of typos, they will likely be fine. But that highlights a architectural flaw that will likely never be fixed, because the solution is already so widely adopted.

This asks another question: who’s responsibility is it to voice these concerns? Is there any force that could encourage boycotting a project because of these concerns? There are a handful of security experts that won’t touch containers, and a handful of communities that loathe new technologies like Systemd: while it’s a solution, many insist it’s not the right solution.

Terms, terms, terms

As a little aside, I liked the short discussion on the importance of the word “fork”. How Github uses it to encourage collaboration and community. Whereas originally, the word fork would inspire a drastic change in ideas (XEmacs is a fork of GNU Emacs, inspired by the slowness of the FSF to accept C++ dev tools), it instead is part of a process for contributing to upstream. The history of these words and ecosystems is always interesting.