More from David Heinemeier Hansson
We're spending just shy of $1.5 million/year on AWS S3 at the moment to host files for Basecamp, HEY, and everything else. The only way we were able to get the pricing that low was by signing a four-year contract. That contract expires this summer, June 30, so that's our departure date for the final leg of our cloud exit. We've already racked the replacement from Pure Storage in our two primary data centers. A combined 18 petabytes, securely replicated a thousand miles apart. It's a gorgeous rack full of blazing-fast NVMe storage modules. Each card in the chassis capable of storing 150TB now. Pure Storage comes with an S3-compatible API, so no need for CEPH, Minio, or any of the other object storage software solutions you might need, if you were trying to do this exercise on commodity hardware. This makes it pretty easy from the app side to do the swap. But there's still work to do. We have to transfer almost six petabytes out of S3. In an earlier age, that egress alone would have cost hundreds of thousands of dollars in fees alone. But now AWS offers a free 60-day egress window for anyone who wants to leave, so that drops the cost to $0. Nice! It takes a while to transfer that much data, though. Even on the fat 40-Gbit pipe we have set aside for the purpose, it'll probably take at least three weeks, once you factor in overhead and some babysitting of the process. That's when it's good to remind ourselves why June 30th matters. And the reminder math pens out in nice, round numbers for easy recollection: If we don't get this done in time, we'll be paying a cool five thousand dollars a day to continue to use S3 (if all the files are still there). Yikes! That's $35,000/week! That's $150,000/month! Pretty serious money for a company of our size. But so are the savings. Over five years, it'll now be almost five million! Maybe even more, depending on the growth in files we need to store for customers. About $1.5 million for the Pure Storage hardware, and a bit less than a million over five years for warranty and support. But those big numbers always seem a bit abstract to me. The idea of paying $5,000/day, if we miss our departure date, is awfully concrete in comparison.
Immortality always sounded like a curse to me. But especially now, having passed the halfway point of the average wealthy male life expectancy. Another scoop of life as big as the one I've already been served seems more than enough, thank you very much. Does that strike you as morbid? It's funny, people seem to have no problem understanding satiation when it comes to the individual parts of life. Enough delicious cake, no more rides on the rollercoaster, the end of a great party. But not life itself. Why? The eventual end strikes me as beautiful relief. Framing the idea that you can see enough, do enough, be enough. And have enjoyed the bulk of it, without wanting it to go on forever. Have you seen Highlander? It got panned on its initial release in the 80s. Even Sean Connery couldn't save it with the critics at the time. But I love it. It's one of my all-time favorite movies. It's got a silly story about a worldwide tournament of immortal Highlanders who live forever, lest they get their heads chopped off, and then the last man standing wins... more life? Yeah, it doesn't actually make a lot of sense. But it nails the sadness of forever. The loneliness, the repetition, the inevitable cynicism with humanity. Who wants to live forever, indeed. It's the same theme in Björk's wonderfully melancholic song I've Seen It All. It's a great big world, but eventually every unseen element will appear as but a variation on an existing theme. Even surprise itself will succumb to familiarity. Even before the last day, you can look forward to finality, too. I love racing, but I'm also drawn to the day when the reflexes finally start to fade, and I'll hang up the helmet. One day I will write the last line of Ruby code, too. Sell the last subscription. Write the last tweet. How merciful. It gets harder with people you love, of course. Harder to imagine the last day with them. But I didn't know my great-great-grandfather, and can easily picture him passing with the satisfaction of seeing his lineage carry on without him. One way to think of this is to hold life with a loose grip. Like a pair of drumsticks. I don't play, but I'm told that the music flows better when you avoid strangling them in a death grip. And then you enjoy keeping the beat until the song ends. Amor fati. Amor mori.
The average age of Apple's board members is 68! Nearly half are over 70, and the youngest is 63. It’s not much better with the executive team, where the average age hovers around 60. I’m all for the wisdom of our elders, but it’s ridiculous that the world’s premier tech company is now run by a gerontocracy. And I think it’s starting to show. The AI debacle is just the latest example. I can picture the board presentation on Genmoji: “It’s what the kids want these days!!”. It’s a dumb feature because nobody on Apple’s board or in its leadership has probably ever used it outside a quick demo. I’m not saying older people can’t be an asset. Hell, at 45, I’m no spring chicken myself in technology circles! But you need a mix. You need to blend fluid and crystallized intelligence. You need some people with a finger on the pulse, not just some bravely keeping one. Once you see this, it’s hard not to view slogans like “AI for the rest of us” through that lens. It’s as if AI is like programming a VCR, and you need the grandkids to come over and set it up for you. By comparison, the average age on Meta’s board is 55. They have three members in their 40s. Steve Jobs was 42 when he returned to Apple in 1997. He was 51 when he introduced the iPhone. And he was gone — from Apple and the world — at 56. Apple literally needs some fresh blood to turn the ship around.
I grew up in the 80s in Copenhagen and roamed the city on my own from an early age. My parents rarely had any idea where I went after school, as long as I was home by dinner. They certainly didn’t have direct relationships with the parents of my friends. We just figured things out ourselves. It was glorious. That’s not the type of childhood we were able to offer our kids in modern-day California. Having to drive everywhere is, of course, its own limitation, but that’s only half the problem. The other half is the expectation that parents are involved in almost every interaction. Play dates are commonly arranged via parents, even for fourth or fifth graders. The new hysteria over smartphones doesn’t help either, as it cuts many kids off from being able to make their own arrangements entirely (since the house phone has long since died too). That’s not how my wife grew up in the 80s in America either. The United States of that age was a lot like what I experienced in Denmark: kids roaming around on their own, parents blissfully unaware of where their offspring were much of the time, and absolutely no expectation that parents would arrange play dates or even sleepovers. I’m sure there are still places in America where life continues like that, but I don’t personally know of any parents who are able to offer that 80s lifestyle to their kids — not in New York, not in Chicago, not in California. Maybe this life still exists in Montana? Maybe it’s a socioeconomic thing? I don’t know. But what I do know is that Copenhagen is still living in the 80s! We’ve been here off and on over the last several years, and just today, I was struck by the fact that one of our kids had left school after it ended early, biked halfway across town with his friend, and was going to spend the day at his place. And we didn’t get an update on that until much later. Copenhagen is a compelling city in many ways, but if I were to credit why the US News and World Report just crowned Denmark the best country for raising children in 2025, I’d say it’s the independence — carefree independence. Danish kids roam their cities on their own, manage their social relationships independently, and do so in relative peace and safety. I’m a big fan of Jonathan Haidt’s work on What Happened In 2013, which he captured in The Coddling of the American Mind. That was a very balanced book, and it called out the lack of unsupervised free play and independence as key contributors to the rise in child fragility. But it also pinned smartphones and social media with a large share of the blame, despite the fact that the effect, especially on boys, is very much a source of ongoing debate. I’m not arguing that excessive smartphone usage — and certainly social-media brain rot — is good for kids, but I find this explanation is proving to be a bit too easy of a scapegoat for all the ills plaguing American youth. And it certainly seems like upper-middle-class American parents have decided that blaming the smartphone for everything is easier than interrogating the lack of unsupervised free play, rough-and-tumble interactions for boys, and early childhood independence. It also just doesn’t track in countries like Denmark, where the smartphone is just as prevalent, if not more so, than in America. My oldest had his own phone by third grade, and so did everyone else in his class — much earlier than Haidt recommends. And it was a key tool for them to coordinate the independence that The Coddling of the American Mind called for more of. Look, I’m happy to see phones parked during school hours. Several schools here in Copenhagen do that, and there’s a new proposal pending legislation in parliament to make that law across the land. Fine! But I think it’s delusional of American parents to think that banning the smartphone — further isolating their children from independently managing their social lives — is going to be the one quick fix that cures the anxious generation. What we need is more 80s-style freedom and independence for kids in America.
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I took an amazing trip to SE Asia last month, including Angkor Wat. I had a hard time finding good reading or other resources to learn from before I went, in part because Amazon is awash in AI garbage. Here’s some books and podcasts I found useful about the Khmer empire in general and Angkor in particular: Ancient Angkor by Michael Freeman and Claude Jacques. The closest thing to a coffee-table book to preview what you will see. The practical information is outdated but the pictures and descriptions are good. Empire Podcast #185: The God Kings of Angkor Wat by William Dalrymple and Anita Anand. An entertaining and fully detailed account of the Khmer empire. It’s basically an excerpt from Dalrymple’s new book The Golden Road: How Ancient India Transformed the World. Fall of Civilizations Podcast #5: The Khmer Empire by Paul Cooper. Another history, not quite as magically well told as Dalrymple but full of good information. Angkor and the Khmer Civilization by Michael D. Coe. A highly recommended history of the Khmer region. Honestly I found this very dry and too detailed, but I did learn from it. Lonely Planet Pocket Guide: Siem Reap & the Temples of Angkor. We didn’t use this much but it seemed like a useful practical guide. OTOH it dates to 2018 so things have changed. My other advice for visiting Siem Reap and Angkor is: go. It is amazing. Plan for at least two full days of touristing there. Hire a private guide and driver if you can, it is absolutely worth it. (Email me for a recommendation.)
Often you’ll see a disorganized collection of ideas labeled as a “strategy.” Even when they’re dense with ideas, these can be hard to parse, and are a major reason why most engineers will claim their company doesn’t have a clear strategy even though my experience is that all companies follow some strategy, even if it’s undocumented. This chapter lays out a repeatable, structured approach to drafting strategy. It introduces each step of that approach, which are then detailed further in their respective chapters. Here we’ll cover: How these five steps fit together to facilitate creating strategy, especially by preventing practicioners from skipping steps that feel awkward or challenging. Step 1: Exploring the wider industry’s ideas and practices around the strategy you’re working on. Exploration is understanding what recent research might change your approach, and how the state of art has changed since you last tackled a similar problem. Step 2: Diagnosing the details of your problem. It’s hard to slow down to understand your problem clearly before attempting to solve it, but it’s even more difficult to solve anything well without a clear diagnosis. Step 3: Refinement is taking a raw, unproven set of ideas and testing them against reality. Three techniques are introduced to support this validation process: strategy testing, systems modeling, and Wardley mapping. Step 4: Policy makes the tradeoffs and decisions to solve your diagnosis. These can range from specifying how software is architected, to how pull requests are reviewed, to how headcount is allocated within an organization. Step 5: Operations are the concrete mechanisms that translate policy into an active force within your organization. These can be nudges that remind you about code changes without associated tests, or weekly meetings where you study progress on a migration. Whether these steps are sacred or are open to adaptation and experimentation, including when you personally should persevere in attempting steps that don’t feel effective. From this chapter’s launching point, you’ll have the high-level summaries of each step in strategy creation, and can decide where you want to read further. This is an exploratory, draft chapter for a book on engineering strategy that I’m brainstorming in #eng-strategy-book. As such, some of the links go to other draft chapters, both published drafts and very early, unpublished drafts. How the steps become strategy Creating effective strategy is not rote incantation of a formula. You can’t merely follow these steps to guarantee that you’ll create a great strategy. However, I’ve found over and over is that strategies fail more due to avoidable errors than from fundamentally unsound thinking. Busy people skip steps. Especially steps they dislike or have failed at before. These steps are the scaffolding to avoid those errors. By practicing routinely, you’ll build powerful habits and intuition around which approach is most appropriate for the current strategy you’re working on. They also help turn strategy into a community practice that you, your colleagues, and the wider engineering ecosystem can participate in together. Each step is an input that flows into the next step. Your exploration is the foundation of a solid diagnosis. Your diagnosis helps you search the infinite space of policy for what you need now. Operational mechanisms help you turn policy into an active force supporting your strategy rather than an abstract treatise. If you’re skeptical of the steps, you should certainly maintain your skepticism, but do give them a few tries before discarding them entirely. You may also appreciate the discussion in the chapter on bridging between theory and practice when doing strategy. Explore Exploration is the deliberate practice of searching through a strategy’s problem and solution spaces before allowing yourself to commit to a given approach. It’s understanding how other companies and teams have approached similar questions, and whether their approaches might also work well for you. It’s also learning why what brought you so much success at your former employer isn’t necessarily the best solution for your current organization. The Uber service migration strategy used exploration to understand the service ecosystem by reading industry literature: As a starting point, we find it valuable to read Large-scale cluster management at Google with Borg which informed some elements of the approach to Kubernetes, and Mesos: A Platform for Fine-Grained Resource Sharing in the Data Center which describes the Mesos/Aurora approach. It also used a Wardley map to explore the cloud compute ecosystem. For more detail, read the Exploration chapter. Diagnose Diagnosis is your attempt to correctly recognize the context that the strategy needs to solve before deciding on the policies to address that context. Starting from your exploration’s learnings, and your understanding of your current circumstances, building a diagnosis forces you to delay thinking about solutions until you fully understand your problem’s nuances. A diagnosis can be largely data driven, such as the navigating a Private Equity ownership transition strategy: Our Engineering headcount costs have grown by 15% YoY this year, and 18% YoY the prior year. Headcount grew 7% and 9% respectively, with the difference between headcount and headcount costs explained by salary band adjustments (4%), a focus on hiring senior roles (3%), and increased hiring in higher cost geographic regions (1%). It can also be less data driven, instead aiming to summarize a problem, such as the Index acquisition strategy’s summary of the known and unknown elements of the technical integration prior to the acquisition closing: We will need to rapidly integrate the acquired startup to meet this timeline. We only know a small number of details about what this will entail. We do know that point-of-sale devices directly operate on payment details (e.g. the point-of-sale device knows the credit card details of the card it reads). Our compliance obligations restrict such activity to our “tokenization environment”, a highly secured and isolated environment with direct access to payment details. This environment converts payment details into a unique token that other environments can utilize to operate against payment details without the compliance overhead of having direct access to the underlying payment details. The approach, and challenges, of developing a diagnosis are detailed in the Diagnosis chapter. Refine (Test, Map & Model) Strategy refinement is a toolkit of methods to identify which parts of your diagnosis are most important, and verify that your approach to solving the diagnosis actually works. This chapter delves into the details of using three methods in particular: strategy testing, systems modeling, and Wardley mapping. An example of a systems modeling diagram. These techniques are also demonstrated in the strategy case studies, such as the Wardley map of the LLM ecosystem, or the systems model of backfilling roles without downleveling them. For more detail, read the Refinement chapter. Why isn’t refinement earlier (or later)? A frequent point of disagreement is that refinement should occur before the diagnosis. Another is that mapping and modeling are two distinct steps, and mapping should occur before diagnosis, and modeling should occur after policy. A third is that refinement ought to be the final step of strategy, turning the steps into a looping cycle. These are all reasonable observations, so let me unpack my rationale for this structure. By far the biggest risk for most strategies is not that you model too early or map too late, but instead that you simply skip both steps entirely. My foremost concern is minimizing the required investment into mapping and modeling such that more folks do these steps at all. Refining after exploring and diagnosing allows you to concentrate your efforts on a smaller number of load-bearing areas. That said, it’s common to refine many places in your strategy creation. You’re just as likely to have three small refinement steps as one bigger one. Policy Policy is interpreting your diagnosis into a concrete plan. This plan also needs to work, which requires careful study of what’s worked within your company, and what new ideas you’ve discovered while exploring the current problem. Policies can range from providing directional guidance, such as the user data controls strategy’s guidance: Good security discussions don’t frame decisions as a compromise between security and usability. We will pursue multi-dimensional tradeoffs to simultaneously improve security and efficiency. Whenever we frame a discussion on trading off between security and utility, it’s a sign that we are having the wrong discussion, and that we should rethink our approach. We will prioritize mechanisms that can both automatically authorize and automatically document the rationale for accesses to customer data. The most obvious example of this is automatically granting access to a customer support agent for users who have an open support ticket assigned to that agent. (And removing that access when that ticket is reassigned or resolved.) To committing not to make a decision until later, as practiced in the Index acquisition strategy: Defer making a decision regarding the introduction of Java to a later date: the introduction of Java is incompatible with our existing engineering strategy, but at this point we’ve also been unable to align stakeholders on how to address this decision. Further, we see attempting to address this issue as a distraction from our timely goal of launching a joint product within six months. We will take up this discussion after launching the initial release. This chapter further goes into evaluating policies, overcoming ambiguous circumstances that make it difficult to decide on an approach, and developing novel policies. For full detail, read the Policy chapter. Operations Even the best policies have to be interpreted. There will be new circumstances their authors never imagined, and the policies may be in effect long after their authors have left the organization. Operational mechanisms are the concrete implementation of your policy. The simplest mechanisms are an explicit escalation path, as shown in Calm’s product engineering strategy: Exceptions are granted by the CTO, and must be in writing. The above policies are deliberately restrictive. Sometimes they may be wrong, and we will make exceptions to them. However, each exception should be deliberate and grounded in concrete problems we are aligned both on solving and how we solve them. If we all scatter towards our preferred solution, then we’ll create negative leverage for Calm rather than serving as the engine that advances our product. From that starting point, the mechanisms can get far more complex. This chapter works through evaluating mechanisms, composing an operational plan, and the most common sorts of operational mechanisms that I’ve seen across strategies. For more detail, read the Operations chapter. Is the structure sacrosanct? When someone’s struggling to write a strategy document, one of the first tools someone will often recommend is a strategy template. Templates are great: they reduce the ambiguity of an already broad project into something more tractable. If you’re wondering if you should use a template to craft strategy: sure, go ahead! However, I find that well-meaning, thoughtful templates often turn into lumbering, callous documents that serve no one well. The secret to good templates is that someone has to own it, and that person has to care about the template writer first and foremost, rather than the various constituencies that want to insert requirements into the strategy creation process. The security, compliance and cost of your plans matter a lot, but many organizations start to layer in more and more requirements into these sorts of documents until the idea of writing them becomes prohibitively painful. The best advice I can give someone attempting to write strategy, is that you should discard every element of strategy that gets in your way as long as you can explain what that element was intended to accomplish. For example, if you’re drafting a strategy and you don’t find any operational mechanisms that fit. That’s fine, discard that section. Ultimately, the structure is not sacrosanct, it’s the thinking behind the sections that really matter. This topic is explored in more detail in the chapter on Making engineering strategies more readable. Summary Now, you know the foundational steps to conducting strategy. From here, you can dive into the details with the strategy case studies like How should you adopt LLMs? or you can maintain a high altitude starting with how exploration creates the foundation for an effective strategy. Whichever you start with, I encourage yout o eventually work through both to get the full perspective.
Adam Silver has an article titled “Do you trust design advice from ChatGPT?” wherein he prompted the LLM: How do you add hint text to radio buttons? It gave various suggestions, each of which Adam breaks down. Here’s an an example response from ChatGPT: If you want the hint to appear when the user hovers on the radio button, use a tooltip for a cleaner design Adam’s response: ‘If you want’ Design is not about what you want. It’s about what users need. ‘use a tooltip’ If a hint is useful, why hide it behind a difficult-to-use and inaccessible interaction? ‘for a cleaner design’ Design is about clarity, not cleanliness. Adam’s point-by-point breakdowns are excellent. The entire article is a great example of how plausible-sounding ideas can quickly fall apart under scrutiny from an expert who reframes the issue. It’s funny how prevalent this feels in our age of fast-paced information overload. You read an argument and it seems rational — that is, if you don’t think about it too long, which who has the time? But an expert with deep experience can quickly refute these mediocre rationales and offer a more informed perspective that leaves you wondering how you ever nodded along to the original argument in the first place. Humorously, it reminds me of the culture of conspiracy theories where the burden of proof is on you to disprove the bare assertions being made (a time-consuming job). Hence the value of experience (and what’s experience but an investment of time?) to pierce through these kinds of middle-of-the-road rationales. Experience helps clarify and articulate what lesser experience cannot see, let alone articulate. That all leads me back to Adam: ChatGPT pulls unreliable, uninformed and untrustworthy design advice from the internet and delivers it with confidence. I mean you can certainly listen to its advice. But I think it’s better to develop the instinct to ask the right questions and be able to recognise bad advice when you see it. There’s no shortcut to gaining experience. You can’t consume enough content to get it. You have to do. Email · Mastodon · Bluesky
Logic for Programmers v0.8 now out! The new release has minor changes: new formatting for notes and a better introduction to predicates. I would have rolled it all into v0.9 next month but I like the monthly cadence. Get it here! Betteridge's Law of Software Engineering Specialness In There is No Automatic Reset in Engineering, Tim Ottinger asks: Do the other people have to live with January 2013 for the rest of their lives? Or is it only engineering that has to deal with every dirty hack since the beginning of the organization? Betteridge's Law of Headlines says that if a journalism headline ends with a question mark, the answer is probably "no". I propose a similar law relating to software engineering specialness:1 If someone asks if some aspect of software development is truly unique to just software development, the answer is probably "no". Take the idea that "in software, hacks are forever." My favorite example of this comes from a different profession. The Dewey Decimal System hierarchically categorizes books by discipline. For example, Covered Bridges of Pennsylvania has Dewey number 624.37. 6-- is the technology discipline, 62- is engineering, 624 is civil engineering, and 624.3 is "special types of bridges". I have no idea what the last 0.07 means, but you get the picture. Now if you look at the 6-- "technology" breakdown, you'll see that there's no "software" subdiscipline. This is because when Dewey preallocated the whole technology block in 1876. New topics were instead to be added to the 00- "general-knowledge" catch-all. Eventually 005 was assigned to "software development", meaning The C Programming Language lives at 005.133. Incidentally, another late addition to the general knowledge block is 001.9: "controversial knowledge". And that's why my hometown library shelved the C++ books right next to The Mothman Prophecies. How's that for technical debt? If anything, fixing hacks in software is significantly easier than in other fields. This came up when I was interviewing classic engineers. Kludges happened all the time, but "refactoring" them out is expensive. Need to house a machine that's just two inches taller than the room? Guess what, you're cutting a hole in the ceiling. (Even if we restrict the question to other departments in a software company, we can find kludges that are horrible to undo. I once worked for a company which landed an early contract by adding a bespoke support agreement for that one customer. That plagued them for years afterward.) That's not to say that there aren't things that are different about software vs other fields!2 But I think that most of the time, when we say "software development is the only profession that deals with XYZ", it's only because we're ignorant of how those other professions work. Short newsletter because I'm way behind on writing my April Cools. If you're interested in April Cools, you should try it out! I make it way harder on myself than it actually needs to be— everybody else who participates finds it pretty chill. Ottinger caveats it with "engineering, software or otherwise", so I think he knows that other branches of engineering, at least, have kludges. ↩ The "software is different" idea that I'm most sympathetic to is that in software, the tools we use and the products we create are made from the same material. That's unusual at least in classic engineering. Then again, plenty of machinists have made their own lathes and mills! ↩
We're spending just shy of $1.5 million/year on AWS S3 at the moment to host files for Basecamp, HEY, and everything else. The only way we were able to get the pricing that low was by signing a four-year contract. That contract expires this summer, June 30, so that's our departure date for the final leg of our cloud exit. We've already racked the replacement from Pure Storage in our two primary data centers. A combined 18 petabytes, securely replicated a thousand miles apart. It's a gorgeous rack full of blazing-fast NVMe storage modules. Each card in the chassis capable of storing 150TB now. Pure Storage comes with an S3-compatible API, so no need for CEPH, Minio, or any of the other object storage software solutions you might need, if you were trying to do this exercise on commodity hardware. This makes it pretty easy from the app side to do the swap. But there's still work to do. We have to transfer almost six petabytes out of S3. In an earlier age, that egress alone would have cost hundreds of thousands of dollars in fees alone. But now AWS offers a free 60-day egress window for anyone who wants to leave, so that drops the cost to $0. Nice! It takes a while to transfer that much data, though. Even on the fat 40-Gbit pipe we have set aside for the purpose, it'll probably take at least three weeks, once you factor in overhead and some babysitting of the process. That's when it's good to remind ourselves why June 30th matters. And the reminder math pens out in nice, round numbers for easy recollection: If we don't get this done in time, we'll be paying a cool five thousand dollars a day to continue to use S3 (if all the files are still there). Yikes! That's $35,000/week! That's $150,000/month! Pretty serious money for a company of our size. But so are the savings. Over five years, it'll now be almost five million! Maybe even more, depending on the growth in files we need to store for customers. About $1.5 million for the Pure Storage hardware, and a bit less than a million over five years for warranty and support. But those big numbers always seem a bit abstract to me. The idea of paying $5,000/day, if we miss our departure date, is awfully concrete in comparison.