fidzu : python

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News

PyCon US 2026 Recap and Recordings

All PyCon US 2026 talks are now on YouTube, along with a highlight reel and a full recap of the first year in Long Beach, which drew 1,901 attendees from 58 countries. PyCon US 2027 returns to Long Beach, May 12-18.

DSF member of the month - Ken Whitesell

Forty-five years a developer, now retired and answering forum questions so the core team doesn't have to, which he counts as a contribution in itself. He builds browser-based board game engines with Channels and HTMX, and his advice fits on a sticker: don't fight the framework.

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Django Software Foundation

New Technical Governance Approved

The Steering Council and the DSF Board both approved DEP 19, which simplifies Django's technical governance and swaps narrow eligibility rules for a broad set of qualities a Steering Council member might have. Documentation updates come next.

Proposed change to DSF voting membership

Quorum is currently measured against every member on the rolls, which only gets harder to reach as membership grows. The proposal counts members who voted in the last two years, lets everyone else opt in, and takes nobody off the rolls. Comment by October 7.

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Wagtail News

Experiments with MCP in Wagtail

A new experimental MCP package for Wagtail and how it came about.

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Updates to Django

Today, "Updates to Django" is presented by Raffaella from Djangonaut Space! 🚀

Last week we had 20 pull requests merged into Django by 13 different contributors - including 3 first-time contributors! Congratulations to jgoneit, Philip Sørensen and ddelange for having their first commits merged into Django - welcome on board!

News in Django 6.1:

• Fixed a bug where the fields.W225 system check incorrectly warned that null has no effect on GeneratedField (#37348).
• Fixed a bug where FETCH_PEERS did not batch instances loaded by select_related(), causing unnecessary queries (#37344).

News in Django 6.2:

• Upstream support for PostgreSQL 15 ends in November 2027. Django 6.2 supports PostgreSQL 16 and higher.
• django.db.models.GenericIPAddressField now validates IPv6 input strictly when saving and querying. Invalid IPv6 addresses now raise ValidationError instead of being silently accepted, and surrounding whitespace is stripped.
• The undocumented EmailValidator.validate_domain_part() method is deprecated in favor of the new validate_domain() method.

Thanks to all the collaborators for the good work done on the PRs merged last week. Thanks also to the volunteer reviewers who contributed: Mykhailo Havelia, Simon Charette and Mike Edmunds.

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Articles

DjangoCon Chicago 2026 Highlights

Five Caktus folks pick their favourites from Chicago: the Dawn Wages and Sarah Boyce keynotes, browser features that cut JavaScript, Django 6.1's auto-prefetching for N+1 queries, and the PostgreSQL Anonymizer extension found in a hallway conversation.

Open Source Maintainership in an LLM world

When a pull request had to be carved out of granite with a chisel, the effort filtered out the frivolous ones. Frank Wiles on the slop tsunami that replaced it, and what maintainers can do: gate contributors, close the tracker on weekends, and reject clearly and kindly.

Markdown in /src

Carson Gross argues the prompts behind LLM-written code are thrown away, unlike the source a compiler keeps. His fix is a /src/md directory of human-curated Markdown, checked in beside the code and tests that get generated from it.

Building an MCP Server for Your Django App: What We Learned Doing It for Real

Lessons from shipping one, including an agent that fired a send_email tool early and mailed customers half-built data. Start read-only, add writes with dry runs and audit logs, and expect SynchronousOnlyOperation until you wrap ORM calls in sync_to_async.

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Django Fellow Reports

Django Fellow Report - Natalia

Natalia reviewed 11 PRs, four of them sponsorship page improvements on djangoproject.com, and kept two security patches moving. She also reverted the system check for null on GeneratedField, dug into ORM internals to triage a related migrations ticket, and opened a forum proposal to swap Django's custom Sphinx version annotations for Sphinx's standard wording.

Django Fellow Report - Jacob

Jacob reported in from the Django on the Med sprints this week. He triaged 9 tickets (including several composite primary key bugs), reviewed 10 PRs, opened 5 tickets and 6 PRs (among them dropping GDAL 3.3/3.4 support), and weighed in on forum threads about newcomer sprints and security release notes.

Django Fellow Report - Sarah

Sarah had a busy week: she triaged six new tickets, reviewed 14 pull requests across django/django, djangoproject.com, and the DSF working groups repo, and worked through five security reports. On the authoring side, she opened a PR to document Django's new annual release cycle in the release process docs, and another to finally allow multiline template tags, a long-requested change that closes two tickets, one of them over a decade old.

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Django Forum

Running Django on MariaDB or another database? Yearly survey (10 min)

The MariaDB Foundation's yearly survey is open to Postgres, SQLite, and MySQL users too this year, with some questions split by role. It is anonymous, takes under 10 minutes, closes in mid-October, and the results are published as a public report.

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Django Job Board

A new Django role at The Developer Society leads the board, alongside machine learning work at Provision and a backend seat at The Cruise Brothers.

🆕 Django Developer at The Developer Society

Machine Learning Engineer (Hybrid) at Provision

Django Developer at The Cruise Brothers

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Projects

7tg/django-admin-mcp

Add a mixin to your ModelAdmin classes and MCP clients get CRUD, admin actions, and relationship traversal, all within Django's existing permissions, with only Django and Pydantic as dependencies.

viewflow/seedkit

Build any Django app (a SaaS, a dashboard, or an API) from a single sentence. An agent skill that wires packages, splits dev/prod settings, and adds CI.

25 Sep 2026 3:00pm GMT

Today I learned how to setup a Rust project that can be called from Python with PyO3 and maturin through uv.

When you follow the PyO3 getting started guide to create a simple Rust project that can be called from Python, the instructions you get assume you'll use a global Python installation to create a virtual environment and to install maturin into it. You can use uv through maturin, but if your project also has a Rust binary, things may break.

When you run a command like cargo run, cargo will see the dependency on PyO3 and it will then look for a Python installation. If you have no global Python installations - because you do everything through uv - or if your global installations aren't setup exactly like a vanilla, default installation, PyO3 might fail.

The fix is simple. In .cargo/config.toml add the environment variable PYO3_PYTHON that points to the Python inside your virtual environment:

# .cargo/config.toml
[env]
PYO3_PYTHON = { value = ".venv/bin/python", relative = true }

How to set up a Rust + Python project with PyO3 and maturin through uv

Here are all the steps to set up a Rust project that can be compiled into a binary executable and that can also be used from within Python:

% cargo new calculator
% cd calculator

Create the file lib.rs:

// lib.rs
pub fn add(a: i32, b: i32) -> i32 {
    a + b
}

#[pyo3::pymodule]
mod calculator {
    use pyo3::prelude::*;

    #[pyfunction]
    fn add(a: i32, b: i32) -> PyResult<i32> {
        Ok(crate::add(a, b))
    }
}

And update the file main.rs to depend on your calculator:

use calculator::add;

fn main() {
    println!("{}", add(1, 2));
}

If you run cargo run, you should get the result 3:

% cargo run
3

Add the PyO3 dependency from the Rust side:

% cargo add pyo3 -F abi3-py38

Update Cargo.toml to configure your crate type so it can be compiled for the Rust binary and for the Python bridge:

# Cargo.toml
# ...

[lib]
name = "calculator"
crate-type = ["cdylib", "rlib"]

Now, create a minimal pyproject.toml:

# pyproject.toml

[project]
name = "calculator"
version = "0.1.0"

[build-system]
requires = ["maturin>=1.0,<2.0"]
build-backend = "maturin"

Add the dependency on maturin and run it:

% uv add maturin
% uv run maturin develop
# ...
✏️ Setting installed package as editable
🛠 Installed calculator-0.1.0

Run Python with uv run python and test your package:

>>> from calculator import add
>>> add(3, 4)
7

At this point you're happy that you can use your Rust code from Python and may not realise that cargo run may no longer work, complaining about Python frameworks, not finding whatever it needs to link, or other weird errors.

Configure cargo to use the Python installation from the virtual environment by adding the file .cargo/config.toml:

# .cargo/config.toml
[env]
PYO3_PYTHON = { value = ".venv/bin/python", relative = true }

Try running cargo run again and note that everything still works:

% cargo run
3

Fixing issues with PyO3 +

...

25 Sep 2026 8:34am GMT

Open source is, at least in part, about you, where "you" refers to the user.

Open Source Is Not About "Open Source Is Not About You"

In other words: Rich Hickey was wrong when he wrote "Open Source Is Not About You" and I'm tired of pretending otherwise.

Of course he's not completely wrong, or his famous post would not have resonated quite so much in the first place. Obnoxious users who demand their personal use-cases be immediately addressed by volunteer maintainers for free should indeed be viewed as the pariahs that they are. Similarly, corporate users who want free support from the community that supplies their infrastructure to lower their costs. As should those who profit from this type of externalization by their own customers.

But the exchange of "open source" (or even "free software") is not as simple as "I have prepared some software for you, please enjoy it, you have no right to complain", and maintainers ought to have a precise understanding of the costs and benefits - as well as the ethical implications - of that exchange.

Right now we barely even articulate that the exchange exists, let alone that it establishes a long-term, subtle, and implicit relationship between maintainer and user.

Let's fix that.

What Are We Doing When We Do An Open Source?

Hickey, and his many acolytes in the years since his fateful post, asserts that the process of "open source" goes like this:

1. Maintainer makes a thing, and makes it available to users as a gift.
   1. Maintainer may "love working with the team".
   2. Maintainer may be "proud of the work we do".
2. Users accept the gift, and extract utility from it.
   1. (Users MUST be grateful for this.)
3. A tiny fraction of users reciprocally contribute to the thing.
   1. (Maintainers may be grateful for this.)

He makes various oblique references to the specific activities of his company, which does things vaguely related to his projects for money¹. These activities are exclusively characterized as for "customers", however, a subset of the aforementioned users so tiny ("fewer than 1%") as to nearly be an entirely distinct group.

Breezing past this process in an essay about obnoxious users demanding things they are not entitled to, one might nod along, as this sounds mostly sensible. Giving gifts is nice. I too love working with good teams and taking pride in things.

Examined more closely, however, it starts to logically fall apart. If you have consulting clients and that's where all of your money is coming from, why are you bothering (as he repeatedly insists) "doing [things] for the community"? What was the point of releasing this code in the first place? You could love working with your team and be proud of the work that you do in a lot of different contexts; why bother implicating this horde of entitled and obnoxious people, if that's all you're getting out of it? What's in it for you?

If we've left out something as fundamental as "why is the maintainer doing this", perhaps this story leaves out some other important bits as well.

Why Are You Doing This?

There are many possible motivations for releasing and maintaining open source software. They are often subtle, often overlapping, and rarely clearly stated. Maintainers are not a monolith and not everyone does it for similar reasons. But let's review a few reasons that someone might want to contribute.

Reputation

One reason that you might want to release some open source software is advertising. The most common form of this is self-promotion; if you are a visible, prominent contributor to an open source project, it stands to reason that you will have an easier time finding work in the domain of that project.

If you operate a consultancy, as Rich Hickey did at the time of his famous rant, then this reputational currency translates into advertising for your services. It's a practical demonstration of the skills of your team.

The trade in this benefit is most like the traditional "gift economy" that open source has been compared to. You give the code to your users, which has some value, but the users give you back some reputation, in the form of their attention, their esteem, and possibly even their money if they become customers or employers.

Influence

Infrastructure is the most popular type of open source for a good reason. Programmers working on a problem are often hemmed in by sclerotic architectural choices which prevent them from solving problems in the way that they'd prefer to solve them. Major infrastructural investments are difficult to justify in a planning process, as their benefits are hard to prove. Sometimes the benefits are highly personal; different engineers have different aesthetic preferences about what types of equally-valid solutions they'd prefer to work with.

If you can develop your preferred type of solution and release it as open source, then you can influence how everyone else solves this type of problem. As an individual, such a position of influence can allow you to have some transferable expertise between employers. You know how to use the tool you developed, so you can be very quick and effective with it, and you can shape it to your ongoing taste over time.

If you're an employer, and you can get everyone else to use your open source thing², this can reduce both your hiring and training costs. Potential employees can read the code, see that it's good, and want to work at a place that produces good code like that. They can also read the code and become familiar with it in advance of coming to work for you, which means that you have a ready supply of developers who already know how your internal systems work.

The trade in this benefit is more like "soft power" than a gift economy. You give the code to your users, which has some value, but the users give you back the ability to dictate their technological agenda. You gain both the ability to influence their initial direction, and, as part of ongoing maintenance, to dictate their behavior over time.

Improvement

As an engineer, you might want to improve your own skills. Writing something proprietary and commercial cuts against this in two ways.

First, you will want to build something that already exists within your skill set, so that it will attract commercial interest and actually be competitive. Within the context of a larger team, you will want to personally be able to be immediately effective for similar reasons. But you still need a way to learn new things.

Second, you will want to build something somewhat secretively, so that the value you are producing is captured rather than released to the community. This means that you will be cut off from external sources of expert feedback.

As an organization, you might want to build the skills of your staff in similar ways.

The trade in this benefit is code for knowledge. You release the code or changes, and in return you expect your users to provide you good bug reports, and to induce at least some of them to become co-developers.

Outsourcing

As an engineer, you can only do so much on your own. Perhaps you want to have some influence over your infrastructure so you want to write it, but you also want to have a communal place to keep your infrastructure such that you can make a change to something to suit your needs, but you know that even if you walk away, someone else will maintain that change and keep it working across years or even decades of changes to underlying platforms, hardware, etc.

This sort of communal maintenance effort can be shared among all interested participants; if a thousand companies all need the same tool, if even a few dozen can share it, that reduces even their own load massively, let alone everyone else's.

The trade in this benefit is more complex, since there's less symmetry between the main maintainer and peripheral community members who also contribute code. The main maintainer is actually trading a namespace, a central place for people to contribute, coordinate, and release changes, rather than the code. They are a sort of market maker where then all the other contributors trade code for code within that market-ish structure.

In practice, this motivation produces a game theory problem where, when maintenance drops below a critical threshold, it creates a big enough crisis that at least some freeloading stakeholders will be forced to start making contributions.

Ultimately, however, this saves all involved parties a ton on maintenance, more eager volunteers who do not freeload in the first place get all the other benefits mentioned above as well.

The Things that Aren't Supposed To Be Benefits

These categories could be made as explicit, rational trade-offs, even if they are often implicit and subtle in practice. They are transactions where the maintainer gets something and the user gets something.

However, not everything that you are getting as a maintainer is something you are actually supposed to use to your own benefit. Being given trust in service of a responsibility is not a transaction.

"Oops, All Root Shells"

Open source code is code. In our modern world of absolutely pathetic sandboxing, installing code from somebody else gives them control over your system, even if it is somewhat indirect.

There is an unwritten rule that if I create an open source library, and you use it, it probably shouldn't have a backdoor in it that gives me the credentials to your bank account. There is a trust relationship between the user and the maintainer, and here, we see the first obligation that the maintainer has. The maintainer is obligated not to use the user's computer for their own gain.

This rule might seem obvious and straightforward. It might even seem unfair to you that I call the rule "unwritten", because the rule is, in fact, written down in a few places: for example, in the npm Acceptable Content Policy, it says right there:

A few examples of unacceptable content:

…

3. Content containing malicious computer code, such as computer viruses, computer worms, rootkits, back doors, or spyware. This includes content submitted for research purposes. Tools designed and documented explicitly to assist in security research are acceptable, but exploits and malware that use the npm registry as a deployment or delivery vector are not.

I think we can all agree that a script which steals your bank credentials and sends them to me to buy a totally sick jet ski would qualify as "malware", so clearly that is forbidden.

There is also an enormous gray area here. npm also explicitly allows "Information on how to pay, donate to, and otherwise support Package development", but then goes on to explicitly forbid "Packages that display ads at runtime, on installation, or at other stages of the software development lifecycle, such as via npm scripts."⁴ How are the lines drawn around these gray areas? "npm will continue to apply its judgment when deciding what content is acceptable."

But also... this is forbidden by npm, not by the transcendental nature of "open source". I could give away code that displays all kinds of ads to its users as a "gift" on my website. The exact structure of this policy is not uncommon, but it also isn't exactly the same as other such sites. PyPI, for example, explicitly bans "cryptocurrency mining", which NPM does not. Is cryptocurrency mining "not open source"? A lot of judgement calls are happening here about what is allowable in these "gifts" that you are giving to your users.

But I digress.

My point is that policy-making around this concept is not clear, there are lots of little disagreements around the edges, but there is a very strong consensus that while the user is giving you their trust here, that is not a trade. The deal is not "you give the user some code, the user gives you unlimited compute and access to all their financial accounts". The user has made themselves vulnerable to your code on the strength of your reputation.

This creates an obligation for you to not do anything evil with that code, either intentionally or through negligence.

Security Updates Are Just Command And Control In A Funny Hat

All of this is just about the initial download of some code, and that is the way that Rich Hickey describes it, as if you just grabbed some code off a web page and put it in a folder that you like on your desktop. But that is not how open source relationships work today, if indeed it ever was.

The way it works today is that you add a dependency to your pyproject.toml or your package.json or your Cargo.toml and now your users are vulnerable not just to whatever you happened to upload in the first place, but to whoever happens to have your package index credentials.

This creates an obligation to maintain an operational security posture that protects your users from malicious updates.

The Roadmap Is Someone's Life

Another kind of trust that the user is placing in you is the trust that you are going to have at least some kind of regard for their usage of your software.

In a perfect world, the user's expectations could be clearly circumscribed. Whatever ongoing maintenance you commit to perform would be encapsulated in clear policies that you'd write up in advance, about exactly what kind of security response policy you have, how you will communicate when you no longer have the resources for maintenance, and so on.

But anyone who has been involved in any project at anything but the most extreme tier of operational maturity knows that 99% of the ecosystem relies on a set of loose conventions around how all that stuff works. We expect that maintainers will generally be around, that they'll use existing tools like an issue tracker for triaging user bugs, GHSA and CVEs for security reporting, that they will mark the project as "archived" and maybe do a final release before abandoning it, that they will maintain a ChangeLog explaining at least a little bit of what is going on.

Users assume that those conventions will be followed when there are any gaps in explicit policy, or indeed if policy is lacking entirely. This assumption is reasonable, because otherwise nobody could ever use any open source without a stack of service contracts that nobody has any time to write.

The strongest such convention is that an actively maintained program will, at least, more or less keep doing what it does as time goes on. A user who has elected to use a bit of open source software has made themselves vulnerable to changes and breakages in that software by the mere fact of using it. In the time that they have used it and invested in it, they have not invested in:

• creating alternative software to meet their needs,
• maintaining data in formats that other software can read, or
• learning how to use existing alternative software.

This can, and does, go badly wrong, when those expectations are mismatched.

How It Goes Wrong

Let's say a maintainer creates an open source paint program, OpenPaint.

An artist, known for their unique style of making blended collages, switches from their previous app, ProprietaryPaint, to this new OpenPaint to make these culturally significant works of art. However, the maintainer decides that the 'blend' tool is kind of a pain to maintain, and they remove it in OpenPaint 2.

A few months later, the artist's operating system vendor issues a security update that breaks OpenPaint, because older versions of OpenPaint were unknowingly abusing some platform API.

The maintainer releases a new OpenPaint 2.0.1 that addresses this incompatibility, but doesn't care about version 1.x any more so they don't bother to update that one.

This places the artist in an impossible situation. They can stay on an old version of their operating system, putting all their personal data at risk. Or they can upgrade to the new operating system, effectively either cutting off access to their livelihood, or forcing them to change their art style entirely.

Now, proprietary software can place users in similarly untenable positions (and in fact, it is more often proprietary software that does). But does the openness completely remove any obligation for this consideration? Should the OpenPaint team have to at least communicate the reasons for doing this, to give the artist some recourse?⁵

The only thing that "open source" does is that it allows the artist to pay a prohibitive amount of money to a new maintenance team to create a fork. This is rarely the kind of thing that individuals can manage.

This creates an obligation to at least consider how your users might be relying on you.

This is the most complex obligation of the bunch. Obviously it does not entitle every single user to infinite work from the maintainer, but it also shouldn't entitle the user to nothing for having trusted these subtle implied claims that the maintainer is making by making their work public.

It is a nuanced and ongoing negotiation and I do not think we have a clear moral intuition about how it should work out. But we do need to figure out a way to work it out.

It also raises a clarifying question.

Why Are We Even Doing This, and Who Are We Doing It For?

People generally like to do things for more than one reason. We live in an economy where people need to make money, but we mostly prefer to make that money doing things that are useful, and that make other people happy.

So, yes, we create open source for self-interested reasons to improve our reputations, to improve our skills, to increase our influence and to share our maintenance burdens. In so doing we take on some level of obligation to not abuse the trust that is placed in us, even if that level of obligation is not clear.

But if we are not doing it to serve those users at least a little bit, then those motivations are going to quickly ring hollow. We will not increase our reputation with a person if we respond to their every request by telling them that we owe them nothing and that their opinions are worthless. We will not gain influence over a community if we ignore their desires.

Many interactions with open source maintainers are unnecessarily adversarial. This is of course partially the fault of those users, who should calibrate their expectations appropriately.

Still: maintainers could do a better job of listening before these interactions become toxic. There's no reason that "open source users" should be an especially toxic group of people. At this point in history, that group is basically just … people with computers.

It's like that old truism. If you meet one person who is a jerk to you, that's their problem. But if everyone you meet, everywhere you go, is constantly abrasive to you and treats you like you're doing something wrong, maybe it's time to look inward.

If all open source users are entitled assholes, maybe it's time to look for a structural problem.

Surprise, It's About AI Again

Sigh.⁶

Users hate slop.

I know, dear AI-positive reader, your AI outputs are different from everyone else's, you aren't pushing thoughtless slop into your code, just because everyone else is and it is the inevitable terminus of using those tools. You aren't "lazy vibe coding" with Claude, you're doing "responsible agentic engineering", which is different because you're just built different.

Still, humor me, for a moment. Your users don't know that. They know what it looks like when products that they like adopt slop. They know that they will start leaking data. Developers know that it will make them personally less secure. They know that they can expect more outages and that your code will inexorably decline in quality.

In other words, your users are going to assume that this means you are violating that final obligation that the software should keep working.

Your users are going to tell you to stop, and they are probably going to get mad. Maybe you, or a plurality of your team, also want to stop, maybe you disagree with them, but in any case you need some way to have that conversation in a way that does not immediately overflow into every adjacent discussion forum. Users need to feel welcome in some space so they can have the discussion in that space, and not explode out into a thousand different group chats and social media threads.

This post was inspired by yet another prominent open source community discourse where a ton of angry users showed up to yell at developers to stop accepting LLM-generated code. I'm not going to link to any of these, because we don't need any more fuel for the discourse fire. But there is more than one such case and the pattern is becoming familiar.

On social media - usually BlueSky or Mastodon, but sometimes a user group forum - users become aware of some AI-adjacent policy. They show up in a horde to the developer forum or mailing list. They loudly start demanding the project take a hard stand⁷ against AI. This pressure is simultaneous, but uncoordinated; extremely repetitive, very diverse, often inconsistent, and pretty stressful, especially if you're a burnt-out maintainer with other things to be doing who may not even like AI yourself in the first place.

Believe me, I get it. It can be very unpleasant to deal with.

Like most problems that AI is causing, though, it's not really an "AI" problem as much as it is a pre-existing dumpster fire that "AI" is pouring gasoline onto. In this case, an online mob is the language of the unheard⁸.

If Users Are Mad It's Probably Already Too Late (But Maybe You Can Get Ready For Next Time)

One day, all of a sudden, you're getting feedback from a bunch of users that are using inappropriate channels to complain. But did they already have appropriate channels to use?

Did you have a place for people to congregate and discuss your project? To make orderly complaints in a way that will be legible to you? Or do you just have a GitHub Issues page, which non-technical users have no idea how to interact with, and a forum for developers, where users don't know the norms and any arriving brigade of pissed-off users will be seen as disruptive and inappropriate?

I don't want to be throwing any stones from within my particular glass house. Setting up such a place has gotten harder over the years. I don't really have one, either.

Could I have one, though? IRC has been slowly dying, mailing lists are unpopular and present increasingly annoying moderation challenges, forum software is expensive to operate and keep maintained, Discord is a confusing mess and the upshot of all of this is every community needs community management and forum moderation. Which means that for my own small solo projects, I couldn't possibly have such infrastructure because such infrastructure requires a dedicated second person to maintain it, and until someone volunteers for that, it's not really feasible. Even for my larger projects you'd be surprised how slim of a skeleton crew we are getting by with, and we definitely don't have a whole spare maintainer to go manage this, especially as we are under attack from the slopocalypse ourselves.

The nature of open source community is that most communities start too small to need such a thing, grow incrementally until one day they are suddenly way too big and needed one yesterday, and then suddenly they are too small again when interest wanes even a little bit. Even as we need it more and more, building and maintaining community infrastructure remains a challenge.

Even so, having a dedicated place for users - not maintainers - to converse amongst themselves, be an actual community, and present feedback to the developers, is fast becoming a necessary component of a successful community and not a nice-to-have.

In Conclusion

As trying as it can be sometimes, we maintainers all do get something out of open source, and it is good to be honest with your users - and with yourself - exactly what you want to get out of it. In order to know whether the juice is worth the squeeze, we must know both what the juice is, and what the squeeze is.

Part of the metaphorical squeeze is a set of obligations, and those are the most poorly defined of all. We should try to be clear about what those are too. Both about exactly what we believe we are signing up for, and also, about how we are willing to let our users hold us to account for them. Codes of conduct are a start here, but only the absolute barest bare minimum; "do not harass your colleagues or your users" is not a standard of excellence to aspire to, it's just basic manners.

I can't tell you exactly what your obligations are, only try to gesture at my idea of the outlines of the fuzzy moral intuition we've all been implicitly sharing up until now.

Drawing this line is not just for the benefit of the users, either. Maintainers already feel pressure, we already feel obligations. We resent that feeling of obligation. While there are a diverse array of reasons for that resentment, one big one is that it's not clear, even to ourselves where the obligations end. Lashing out by saying "I promised nothing and I owe you nothing!" followed by some choice expletives feels cathartic, but it doesn't really solve the problem, because we clearly don't really believe that's where the line is, or we would have already stopped there. We wouldn't feel the need to say it.

It is going to be a very big collective endeavor to figure out exactly where that line is. The best time to have gotten started on that endeavor was 50 years ago.

But the second best time is today.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my patrons who are supporting my writing on this blog. If you like what you've read here and you'd like to read more of it, or you'd like to support my various open-source endeavors, you can support my work as a sponsor!⁹

25 Sep 2026 12:50am GMT

Open source is, at least in part, about you, where "you" refers to the user.

Open Source Is Not About "Open Source Is Not About You"

In other words: Rich Hickey was wrong when he wrote "Open Source Is Not About You" and I'm tired of pretending otherwise.

Of course he's not completely wrong, or his famous post would not have resonated quite so much in the first place. Obnoxious users who demand their personal use-cases be immediately addressed by volunteer maintainers for free should indeed be viewed as the pariahs that they are. Similarly, corporate users who want free support from the community that supplies their infrastructure to lower their costs. As should those who profit from this type of externalization by their own customers.

But the exchange of "open source" (or even "free software") is not as simple as "I have prepared some software for you, please enjoy it, you have no right to complain", and maintainers ought to have a precise understanding of the costs and benefits - as well as the ethical implications - of that exchange.

Right now we barely even articulate that the exchange exists, let alone that it establishes a long-term, subtle, and implicit relationship between maintainer and user.

Let's fix that.

What Are We Doing When We Do An Open Source?

Hickey, and his many acolytes in the years since his fateful post, asserts that the process of "open source" goes like this:

1. Maintainer makes a thing, and makes it available to users as a gift.
   1. Maintainer may "love working with the team".
   2. Maintainer may be "proud of the work we do".
2. Users accept the gift, and extract utility from it.
   1. (Users MUST be grateful for this.)
3. A tiny fraction of users reciprocally contribute to the thing.
   1. (Maintainers may be grateful for this.)

He makes various oblique references to the specific activities of his company, which does things vaguely related to his projects for money¹. These activities are exclusively characterized as for "customers", however, a subset of the aforementioned users so tiny ("fewer than 1%") as to nearly be an entirely distinct group.

Breezing past this process in an essay about obnoxious users demanding things they are not entitled to, one might nod along, as this sounds mostly sensible. Giving gifts is nice. I too love working with good teams and taking pride in things.

Examined more closely, however, it starts to logically fall apart. If you have consulting clients and that's where all of your money is coming from, why are you bothering (as he repeatedly insists) "doing [things] for the community"? What was the point of releasing this code in the first place? You could love working with your team and be proud of the work that you do in a lot of different contexts; why bother implicating this horde of entitled and obnoxious people, if that's all you're getting out of it? What's in it for you?

If we've left out something as fundamental as "why is the maintainer doing this", perhaps this story leaves out some other important bits as well.

Why Are You Doing This?

There are many possible motivations for releasing and maintaining open source software. They are often subtle, often overlapping, and rarely clearly stated. Maintainers are not a monolith and not everyone does it for similar reasons. But let's review a few reasons that someone might want to contribute.

Reputation

One reason that you might want to release some open source software is advertising. The most common form of this is self-promotion; if you are a visible, prominent contributor to an open source project, it stands to reason that you will have an easier time finding work in the domain of that project.

If you operate a consultancy, as Rich Hickey did at the time of his famous rant, then this reputational currency translates into advertising for your services. It's a practical demonstration of the skills of your team.

The trade in this benefit is most like the traditional "gift economy" that open source has been compared to. You give the code to your users, which has some value, but the users give you back some reputation, in the form of their attention, their esteem, and possibly even their money if they become customers or employers.

Influence

Infrastructure is the most popular type of open source for a good reason. Programmers working on a problem are often hemmed in by sclerotic architectural choices which prevent them from solving problems in the way that they'd prefer to solve them. Major infrastructural investments are difficult to justify in a planning process, as their benefits are hard to prove. Sometimes the benefits are highly personal; different engineers have different aesthetic preferences about what types of equally-valid solutions they'd prefer to work with.

If you can develop your preferred type of solution and release it as open source, then you can influence how everyone else solves this type of problem. As an individual, such a position of influence can allow you to have some transferable expertise between employers. You know how to use the tool you developed, so you can be very quick and effective with it, and you can shape it to your ongoing taste over time.

If you're an employer, and you can get everyone else to use your open source thing², this can reduce both your hiring and training costs. Potential employees can read the code, see that it's good, and want to work at a place that produces good code like that. They can also read the code and become familiar with it in advance of coming to work for you, which means that you have a ready supply of developers who already know how your internal systems work.

The trade in this benefit is more like "soft power" than a gift economy. You give the code to your users, which has some value, but the users give you back the ability to dictate their technological agenda. You gain both the ability to influence their initial direction, and, as part of ongoing maintenance, to dictate their behavior over time.

Improvement

As an engineer, you might want to improve your own skills. Writing something proprietary and commercial cuts against this in two ways.

First, you will want to build something that already exists within your skill set, so that it will attract commercial interest and actually be competitive. Within the context of a larger team, you will want to personally be able to be immediately effective for similar reasons. But you still need a way to learn new things.

Second, you will want to build something somewhat secretively, so that the value you are producing is captured rather than released to the community. This means that you will be cut off from external sources of expert feedback.

As an organization, you might want to build the skills of your staff in similar ways.

The trade in this benefit is code for knowledge. You release the code or changes, and in return you expect your users to provide you good bug reports, and to induce at least some of them to become co-developers.

Outsourcing

As an engineer, you can only do so much on your own. Perhaps you want to have some influence over your infrastructure so you want to write it, but you also want to have a communal place to keep your infrastructure such that you can make a change to something to suit your needs, but you know that even if you walk away, someone else will maintain that change and keep it working across years or even decades of changes to underlying platforms, hardware, etc.

This sort of communal maintenance effort can be shared among all interested participants; if a thousand companies all need the same tool, if even a few dozen can share it, that reduces even their own load massively, let alone everyone else's.

The trade in this benefit is more complex, since there's less symmetry between the main maintainer and peripheral community members who also contribute code. The main maintainer is actually trading a namespace, a central place for people to contribute, coordinate, and release changes, rather than the code. They are a sort of market maker where then all the other contributors trade code for code within that market-ish structure.

In practice, this motivation produces a game theory problem where, when maintenance drops below a critical threshold, it creates a big enough crisis that at least some freeloading stakeholders will be forced to start making contributions.

Ultimately, however, this saves all involved parties a ton on maintenance, more eager volunteers who do not freeload in the first place get all the other benefits mentioned above as well.

The Things that Aren't Supposed To Be Benefits

These categories could be made as explicit, rational trade-offs, even if they are often implicit and subtle in practice. They are transactions where the maintainer gets something and the user gets something.

However, not everything that you are getting as a maintainer is something you are actually supposed to use to your own benefit. Being given trust in service of a responsibility is not a transaction.

"Oops, All Root Shells"

Open source code is code. In our modern world of absolutely pathetic sandboxing, installing code from somebody else gives them control over your system, even if it is somewhat indirect.

There is an unwritten rule that if I create an open source library, and you use it, it probably shouldn't have a backdoor in it that gives me the credentials to your bank account. There is a trust relationship between the user and the maintainer, and here, we see the first obligation that the maintainer has. The maintainer is obligated not to use the user's computer for their own gain.

This rule might seem obvious and straightforward. It might even seem unfair to you that I call the rule "unwritten", because the rule is, in fact, written down in a few places: for example, in the npm Acceptable Content Policy, it says right there:

A few examples of unacceptable content:

…

3. Content containing malicious computer code, such as computer viruses, computer worms, rootkits, back doors, or spyware. This includes content submitted for research purposes. Tools designed and documented explicitly to assist in security research are acceptable, but exploits and malware that use the npm registry as a deployment or delivery vector are not.

I think we can all agree that a script which steals your bank credentials and sends them to me to buy a totally sick jet ski would qualify as "malware", so clearly that is forbidden.

There is also an enormous gray area here. npm also explicitly allows "Information on how to pay, donate to, and otherwise support Package development", but then goes on to explicitly forbid "Packages that display ads at runtime, on installation, or at other stages of the software development lifecycle, such as via npm scripts."⁴ How are the lines drawn around these gray areas? "npm will continue to apply its judgment when deciding what content is acceptable."

But also... this is forbidden by npm, not by the transcendental nature of "open source". I could give away code that displays all kinds of ads to its users as a "gift" on my website. The exact structure of this policy is not uncommon, but it also isn't exactly the same as other such sites. PyPI, for example, explicitly bans "cryptocurrency mining", which NPM does not. Is cryptocurrency mining "not open source"? A lot of judgement calls are happening here about what is allowable in these "gifts" that you are giving to your users.

But I digress.

My point is that policy-making around this concept is not clear, there are lots of little disagreements around the edges, but there is a very strong consensus that while the user is giving you their trust here, that is not a trade. The deal is not "you give the user some code, the user gives you unlimited compute and access to all their financial accounts". The user has made themselves vulnerable to your code on the strength of your reputation.

This creates an obligation for you to not do anything evil with that code, either intentionally or through negligence.

Security Updates Are Just Command And Control In A Funny Hat

All of this is just about the initial download of some code, and that is the way that Rich Hickey describes it, as if you just grabbed some code off a web page and put it in a folder that you like on your desktop. But that is not how open source relationships work today, if indeed it ever was.

The way it works today is that you add a dependency to your pyproject.toml or your package.json or your Cargo.toml and now your users are vulnerable not just to whatever you happened to upload in the first place, but to whoever happens to have your package index credentials.

This creates an obligation to maintain an operational security posture that protects your users from malicious updates.

The Roadmap Is Someone's Life

Another kind of trust that the user is placing in you is the trust that you are going to have at least some kind of regard for their usage of your software.

In a perfect world, the user's expectations could be clearly circumscribed. Whatever ongoing maintenance you commit to perform would be encapsulated in clear policies that you'd write up in advance, about exactly what kind of security response policy you have, how you will communicate when you no longer have the resources for maintenance, and so on.

But anyone who has been involved in any project at anything but the most extreme tier of operational maturity knows that 99% of the ecosystem relies on a set of loose conventions around how all that stuff works. We expect that maintainers will generally be around, that they'll use existing tools like an issue tracker for triaging user bugs, GHSA and CVEs for security reporting, that they will mark the project as "archived" and maybe do a final release before abandoning it, that they will maintain a ChangeLog explaining at least a little bit of what is going on.

Users assume that those conventions will be followed when there are any gaps in explicit policy, or indeed if policy is lacking entirely. This assumption is reasonable, because otherwise nobody could ever use any open source without a stack of service contracts that nobody has any time to write.

The strongest such convention is that an actively maintained program will, at least, more or less keep doing what it does as time goes on. A user who has elected to use a bit of open source software has made themselves vulnerable to changes and breakages in that software by the mere fact of using it. In the time that they have used it and invested in it, they have not invested in:

• creating alternative software to meet their needs,
• maintaining data in formats that other software can read, or
• learning how to use existing alternative software.

This can, and does, go badly wrong, when those expectations are mismatched.

How It Goes Wrong

Let's say a maintainer creates an open source paint program, OpenPaint.

An artist, known for their unique style of making blended collages, switches from their previous app, ProprietaryPaint, to this new OpenPaint to make these culturally significant works of art. However, the maintainer decides that the 'blend' tool is kind of a pain to maintain, and they remove it in OpenPaint 2.

A few months later, the artist's operating system vendor issues a security update that breaks OpenPaint, because older versions of OpenPaint were unknowingly abusing some platform API.

The maintainer releases a new OpenPaint 2.0.1 that addresses this incompatibility, but doesn't care about version 1.x any more so they don't bother to update that one.

This places the artist in an impossible situation. They can stay on an old version of their operating system, putting all their personal data at risk. Or they can upgrade to the new operating system, effectively either cutting off access to their livelihood, or forcing them to change their art style entirely.

Now, proprietary software can place users in similarly untenable positions (and in fact, it is more often proprietary software that does). But does the openness completely remove any obligation for this consideration? Should the OpenPaint team have to at least communicate the reasons for doing this, to give the artist some recourse?⁵

The only thing that "open source" does is that it allows the artist to pay a prohibitive amount of money to a new maintenance team to create a fork. This is rarely the kind of thing that individuals can manage.

This creates an obligation to at least consider how your users might be relying on you.

This is the most complex obligation of the bunch. Obviously it does not entitle every single user to infinite work from the maintainer, but it also shouldn't entitle the user to nothing for having trusted these subtle implied claims that the maintainer is making by making their work public.

It is a nuanced and ongoing negotiation and I do not think we have a clear moral intuition about how it should work out. But we do need to figure out a way to work it out.

It also raises a clarifying question.

Why Are We Even Doing This, and Who Are We Doing It For?

People generally like to do things for more than one reason. We live in an economy where people need to make money, but we mostly prefer to make that money doing things that are useful, and that make other people happy.

So, yes, we create open source for self-interested reasons to improve our reputations, to improve our skills, to increase our influence and to share our maintenance burdens. In so doing we take on some level of obligation to not abuse the trust that is placed in us, even if that level of obligation is not clear.

But if we are not doing it to serve those users at least a little bit, then those motivations are going to quickly ring hollow. We will not increase our reputation with a person if we respond to their every request by telling them that we owe them nothing and that their opinions are worthless. We will not gain influence over a community if we ignore their desires.

Many interactions with open source maintainers are unnecessarily adversarial. This is of course partially the fault of those users, who should calibrate their expectations appropriately.

Still: maintainers could do a better job of listening before these interactions become toxic. There's no reason that "open source users" should be an especially toxic group of people. At this point in history, that group is basically just … people with computers.

It's like that old truism. If you meet one person who is a jerk to you, that's their problem. But if everyone you meet, everywhere you go, is constantly abrasive to you and treats you like you're doing something wrong, maybe it's time to look inward.

If all open source users are entitled assholes, maybe it's time to look for a structural problem.

Surprise, It's About AI Again

Sigh.⁶

Users hate slop.

I know, dear AI-positive reader, your AI outputs are different from everyone else's, you aren't pushing thoughtless slop into your code, just because everyone else is and it is the inevitable terminus of using those tools. You aren't "lazy vibe coding" with Claude, you're doing "responsible agentic engineering", which is different because you're just built different.

Still, humor me, for a moment. Your users don't know that. They know what it looks like when products that they like adopt slop. They know that they will start leaking data. Developers know that it will make them personally less secure. They know that they can expect more outages and that your code will inexorably decline in quality.

In other words, your users are going to assume that this means you are violating that final obligation that the software should keep working.

Your users are going to tell you to stop, and they are probably going to get mad. Maybe you, or a plurality of your team, also want to stop, maybe you disagree with them, but in any case you need some way to have that conversation in a way that does not immediately overflow into every adjacent discussion forum. Users need to feel welcome in some space so they can have the discussion in that space, and not explode out into a thousand different group chats and social media threads.

This post was inspired by yet another prominent open source community discourse where a ton of angry users showed up to yell at developers to stop accepting LLM-generated code. I'm not going to link to any of these, because we don't need any more fuel for the discourse fire. But there is more than one such case and the pattern is becoming familiar.

On social media - usually BlueSky or Mastodon, but sometimes a user group forum - users become aware of some AI-adjacent policy. They show up in a horde to the developer forum or mailing list. They loudly start demanding the project take a hard stand⁷ against AI. This pressure is simultaneous, but uncoordinated; extremely repetitive, very diverse, often inconsistent, and pretty stressful, especially if you're a burnt-out maintainer with other things to be doing who may not even like AI yourself in the first place.

Believe me, I get it. It can be very unpleasant to deal with.

Like most problems that AI is causing, though, it's not really an "AI" problem as much as it is a pre-existing dumpster fire that "AI" is pouring gasoline onto. In this case, an online mob is the language of the unheard⁸.

If Users Are Mad It's Probably Already Too Late (But Maybe You Can Get Ready For Next Time)

One day, all of a sudden, you're getting feedback from a bunch of users that are using inappropriate channels to complain. But did they already have appropriate channels to use?

Did you have a place for people to congregate and discuss your project? To make orderly complaints in a way that will be legible to you? Or do you just have a GitHub Issues page, which non-technical users have no idea how to interact with, and a forum for developers, where users don't know the norms and any arriving brigade of pissed-off users will be seen as disruptive and inappropriate?

I don't want to be throwing any stones from within my particular glass house. Setting up such a place has gotten harder over the years. I don't really have one, either.

Could I have one, though? IRC has been slowly dying, mailing lists are unpopular and present increasingly annoying moderation challenges, forum software is expensive to operate and keep maintained, Discord is a confusing mess and the upshot of all of this is every community needs community management and forum moderation. Which means that for my own small solo projects, I couldn't possibly have such infrastructure because such infrastructure requires a dedicated second person to maintain it, and until someone volunteers for that, it's not really feasible. Even for my larger projects you'd be surprised how slim of a skeleton crew we are getting by with, and we definitely don't have a whole spare maintainer to go manage this, especially as we are under attack from the slopocalypse ourselves.

The nature of open source community is that most communities start too small to need such a thing, grow incrementally until one day they are suddenly way too big and needed one yesterday, and then suddenly they are too small again when interest wanes even a little bit. Even as we need it more and more, building and maintaining community infrastructure remains a challenge.

Even so, having a dedicated place for users - not maintainers - to converse amongst themselves, be an actual community, and present feedback to the developers, is fast becoming a necessary component of a successful community and not a nice-to-have.

In Conclusion

As trying as it can be sometimes, we maintainers all do get something out of open source, and it is good to be honest with your users - and with yourself - exactly what you want to get out of it. In order to know whether the juice is worth the squeeze, we must know both what the juice is, and what the squeeze is.

Part of the metaphorical squeeze is a set of obligations, and those are the most poorly defined of all. We should try to be clear about what those are too. Both about exactly what we believe we are signing up for, and also, about how we are willing to let our users hold us to account for them. Codes of conduct are a start here, but only the absolute barest bare minimum; "do not harass your colleagues or your users" is not a standard of excellence to aspire to, it's just basic manners.

I can't tell you exactly what your obligations are, only try to gesture at my idea of the outlines of the fuzzy moral intuition we've all been implicitly sharing up until now.

Drawing this line is not just for the benefit of the users, either. Maintainers already feel pressure, we already feel obligations. We resent that feeling of obligation. While there are a diverse array of reasons for that resentment, one big one is that it's not clear, even to ourselves where the obligations end. Lashing out by saying "I promised nothing and I owe you nothing!" followed by some choice expletives feels cathartic, but it doesn't really solve the problem, because we clearly don't really believe that's where the line is, or we would have already stopped there. We wouldn't feel the need to say it.

It is going to be a very big collective endeavor to figure out exactly where that line is. The best time to have gotten started on that endeavor was 50 years ago.

But the second best time is today.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my patrons who are supporting my writing on this blog. If you like what you've read here and you'd like to read more of it, or you'd like to support my various open-source endeavors, you can support my work as a sponsor!⁹

25 Sep 2026 12:50am GMT

There is now a Workshops page on this site listing seventy free hands-on workshops, spread across five collections. They start with how decorators work in plain Python using nothing but the standard library, move on to what wrapt adds for decorators, monkey patching and object proxies, and finish with patching, testing and tracing real code using wrapture. Taken in order they amount to a master class on the subject, and you don't need anything installed to work through them.

Why I have been making these

My working life is in an odd place at the moment. I am on what has turned into an extended sabbatical, and I still haven't decided whether it ends with going back to a job or with retiring for good. The upside is that I have time to spare, and I have been putting it to use filling out the documentation and learning material for my open source projects, something that has always lagged well behind the code.

The other reason is that decorators, monkey patching and instrumentation are topics I have probably spent more time on than most people ever will. I have been maintaining wrapt for well over a decade, and it grew out of the monkey patching I wrote for the New Relic Python agent before that. A lot of what I learned along the way only exists in my head, or is scattered across old blog posts and issue discussions. Workshops are a way of getting that knowledge out in a form people can actually learn from, rather than it disappearing with me.

Starting with the standard library

The first collection is 14 Python decorator workshops. These replace the decorator workshops I announced back in April, which were hosted on Educates, with a rewritten and more focused set.

They use only the standard library. The first has you use decorators before writing one, putting a few from the standard library to work to find out what the @ line actually means. From there you write your first decorator, find out how a wrapper remembers the function it wraps, give decorators arguments, and see what functools.wraps does and doesn't fix. The middle of the collection deals with stacking decorators and with methods, which is where most decorators people write start to go wrong. That includes working out how obj.method() finds its instance by doing the binding by hand, since that is what explains why a class based decorator can't be used on a method without extra work. The last few are practical: decorating classes, caching results, registering functions the way Flask, Click and pytest do, retrying and handling errors, and decorating async functions.

Decorators, patching and proxies with wrapt

In the April post I said the natural follow on would be a course built around wrapt. That has now happened, as three collections in the wrapt workshops.

The first collection, of 12 workshops, covers writing decorators with wrapt. Each workshop puts the wrapt version beside the standard library version it replaces, so you can see what each one gives you. It starts with the wrapper function wrapt expects and what the instance argument tells you about whether you are decorating a function, an instance method, a class method, a static method or a class. Later workshops cover keeping state in a decorator, switching a decorator off, validating arguments, per instance caching of methods, synchronising calls across threads and in async code, and changing the signature a decorated function reports.

The second collection, of 10 workshops, is on monkey patching code you didn't write. It covers patching every kind of method, taking a patch out again, patches which only last for a block of code, why a patch applied correctly can still do nothing, applying a patch before the target module has even been imported, and patching instance attributes. It ends by putting all of that together into the shape every instrumentation agent ends up having.

The third collection, of 10 workshops, is on object proxies, where one object stands in for another. You start by writing a delegating class by hand and seeing what it gets wrong, then find out what a proxy passes through to the object it wraps and what it deliberately doesn't. From there it covers intercepting special methods, the function wrapper that sits under every wrapt decorator, lazy proxies used for deferring imports, holding a function weakly, and pickling and copying a proxy.

Patching, testing and tracing with wrapture

The final collection is the 24 wrapture workshops, which I first mentioned when wrapture reached its first beta. They build on everything before them and range quite widely.

For testing, they cover writing unit tests by wrapping the real code rather than replacing it, recording what the real code did and turning that into a test, behaviour that changes over time, async code and generators, using wrapture properly with pytest, and converting an existing test suite that uses unittest.mock. For tracing, they cover a program narrating its own calls, tracing a program without changing it, analysing a trace in a notebook, recording each request to a Flask application as a tree of calls, finding slow code, exporting to OpenTelemetry, and following one trace across two processes. They also return to monkey patching as a discipline, changing what a third party library does in a way you can reverse, and finish with writing an instrumentation package for a library nobody has covered yet.

You don't need to do them all

Although the collections form a path from start to finish, nobody needs to work through all of them. If you are fairly new to Python, the decorator workshops, plus the first few of the wrapt decorator workshops, are probably all you will want. The later wrapt workshops, and much of wrapture, go into territory most Python developers never need to visit.

Equally, you can just pick out whatever looks interesting, or whatever covers a problem you have right now. If you already know decorators and need to patch a library you don't control, start with the wrapt monkey patching workshops. If you want better tests, or need to understand what a running application is actually doing, go straight to wrapture. Within a collection the workshops are ordered so each builds on the one before, but you can jump in anywhere.

How the workshops are hosted

Each set of workshops lives in its own repository on GitHub. The workshops run in JupyterLab using jupyterlab-workshop, an extension I wrote which puts the workshop instructions in a side panel beside the notebooks, terminals and files you work with. I wrote about it in Introducing jupyterlab-workshop, and about how a workshop is put together in Writing a workshop for JupyterLab.

When you open a collection, the extension shows its workshops in the order to take them, what each covers, and how far you have got with each.

Opening a workshop puts its instructions in the side panel. Actions in the instructions do things in the session for you, such as creating a notebook or running a cell, and checks confirm you have done a step before you move on.

There are a few ways to launch a collection, and the page for each collection on this site has buttons for them. The decorator workshops can run entirely inside your browser using JupyterLite, where Python itself runs in WebAssembly. Nothing runs on a server, and your work is kept in your browser's storage between visits. That is what the second screenshot above shows. For now only the decorator workshops run this way.

Every collection can also be launched on mybinder.org, a free public service which needs no account. It builds the repository into a temporary JupyterLab session, which can take a minute or two, and the session is discarded when you finish. Alternatively, GitHub Codespaces runs the same setup under your own GitHub account, using your Codespaces allowance, and keeps the codespace around until you delete it. If you would rather use your own machine, the README in each repository explains how to run the workshops locally.

What comes next

These collections will keep being refined, and I would like to hear about anything which is confusing or wrong. The GitHub repository for each collection is the place to raise an issue.

Beyond these, I plan to do workshops on WSGI and mod_wsgi, which is the other area where I have years of accumulated knowledge that has never been written down properly. I also want to look at what workshops I could create for people newer to Python, alongside the more detailed ones I have been doing so far. If there is a topic you think is badly served by what is already out there, let me know.

25 Sep 2026 12:00am GMT

DjangoCon US returned to Chicago in 2026, bringing together members of the Django community for a week of learning, connection, and collaboration. I caught up with a few members of the Caktus team to hear about their favorite talks and takeaways from this year's conference.

22 Sep 2026 7:00pm GMT

General code comes out better than code cut to fit one job, and its authors are the first to benefit. When we cannot afford all of it, the way down runs against instinct: work out the ideal shape first, then cut what today does not need, and keep a plan for putting it back.

22 Sep 2026 10:00am GMT

I get asked this rhetorical question a lot, in various forms:

Sure, datacenters might use a lot of energy, but you don't have to use a hosted frontier model to do software development. What if I just run a local open-weights model to do some coding, with an open-source coding agent? Video games also use my GPU. Is local model development any worse than playing a video game?

So I want to write down my comprehensive answer to this: Yes, using an LLM to write some code is worse than playing a video game, for a few reasons.

Video Games Are Interactive, LLMs Are Batch Jobs

Video games use compute to respond to human input. You are using your GPU while you are looking at a screen, displaying an image. When you are done playing, you shut off the game, and your computer goes back to idle. It's much less energy. By contrast, agentic loops with evals (the only kind of "AI" that is meaningfully any good at coding) are running hot, for days. To use the most recent example of such a thing, a very rough first sketch of an implementation of a Windows graphics API backend to help port a paint program to other platforms, it took 3 weeks of Claude time, "day and night". Do you play a lot of video games for 500 hours to make it past the tutorial level, while also using other computers for other things, as well as the rest of your carbon footprint?

Video Games Need Development, LLMs Need Training

Video games use compute to respond to human input during development, too. Your game has to be made, but your LLM has to be trained. LLMs use a historically extreme amount of power, probably using more than the entire Internet, but it's kind of hard to say. Still, it seems a reasonable estimate to within several orders of magnitude that even over a multi-year project with hundreds of developers, the power used to develop an individual video game is nowhere close to training even a small LLM.

This is true even for local models. OpenAI has openly claimed that DeepSeek "stole its intellectual property", and I have heard grumblings that none of the open-weights generalist models could realistically exist without the massive lift that the frontier labs are doing with their training, in various other ways too. Secrecy throughout the industry makes this kind of impossible to understand rigorously, but it seems fair to say that you are partially culpable for all that famously energy-intensive frontier lab training if you're using a local model.

And They Keep Needing Training

You also can't dismiss this as a sunk cost, because in order to stay current with industry developments, models need to be updated with new information from the rest of the world, which means that you need to keep training them. Beyond the energy for your own use, if you want a real-life agentic workflow that actually does useful stuff, practically speaking you would still need to update your local models over and over again, at least once every few months, which means you would be incentivizing continued energy consumption by whoever was doing that training for you, including the energy cost of scraping.

Let's Be Real Here, You Aren't Actually Using A Local Model

This question is a hypothetical thought experiment. Despite synthetic benchmarks that keep showing there isn't much difference between open weight and frontier models, nobody's actually using local models for much of anything beyond sharing those talking points. Depending on which benchmark you're looking at, maybe it's good enough or maybe it's worse.

As an inveterate AI hater, all these systems seem pretty bad to me, but it seems that people who find them useful tend to subjectively believe the frontier models are worth the premium, and that's what they're actually using. Once you have accepted that it is OK to use LLMs for coding at all, it seems like a very quick slippery slope on down to "we'll go ahead and use the frontier models for now anyway, but we could be ethically better in the future by switching to an open weights one, that option is always available".

There's A Reason We Have Data Centers

Devolving power usage to local LLMs might be good to make users responsible for their costs and decrease the impacts to communities that are physically next to huge concentrations of power utilization, not to mention generation. However, there's a reason that it makes sense for the providers to build these giant facilities: economies of scale reduce total power consumption, they don't increase it. If you do all the same stuff with a local model that they have to do in hosted environments, it will probably take more power, even though you will be incentivized to do different stuff. This incentive to "do different stuff" is why although local models can hypothetically hold their own against the frontier labs for some tasks, when people or businesses take their inference costs in-house they often find that it's too painful and move back to hosted LLMs.

There Are Problems Other Than Power

These are subjects for a different post, but you have to consider a lot of other externalities: AI psychosis, de-skilling, comprehension debt, cultivating a dependency, introducing security defects, limiting your design space based on what LLMs can understand, context rot, wasting time on invalid solutions, introducing unpredictability into your workflows. You still have to consider the total cost benefit ratio.

To Sum Up

Local LLMs might alleviate some of the harms from using the hosted frontier providers. There are fewer privacy concerns, you can measure your power utilization and be more directly responsible for it, you can build interfaces with affordances that are less oriented towards addiction and dependency than the major frontier labs' harnesses.

But they're not automatically "the same as playing a video game" just because they can use the same GPU.

Acknowledgments

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06 Sep 2026 10:57pm GMT

Starting with 0.3.0, Astral's uv brought many great features, including support for cross-platform lock files uv.lock. Together with subsequent fixes, it has become Python's finest workflow tool for my (non-scientific) use cases. Here's how I build production-ready containers, as fast as possible.

06 Aug 2026 12:00am GMT