Odd touchpad behavior in Fedora 22

A few days ago, the touchpad on my HP 2000 Notebook PC began acting up. It would jitter around a lot and insert phantom mouse clicks. My desktop ended up with approximately Avogadro’s number of Notes widgets. At first, I thought the touchpad was going bad. I resigned myself to a life of using a USB mouse, at least until I could buy a replacement.

As it turns out, though, it appears to be a software problem. On a whim, I opened up the KDE System Settings. When I selected “Touchpad” from the “Input Devices” menu, I saw a warning message that the saved settings did not match the current settings. Clicking “Apply” fixed…the glitch. Hopefully this helps if someone else comes across the issue. I didn’t file a bug because I don’t know what changed or how to reproduce it.

#info as a measure of meeting productivity?

It all started with a tweet:

That started a discussion between Matt and Karsten Wade about how to measure whether or not a meeting was productive. Matt suggested a count of “#action”, “#agreed”, and “#info” MeetBot commands.

about how to measure whether or not a meeting was productive. Matt suggested a count of “#action”, “#agreed”, and “#info” MeetBot commands. At this point, I had to jump in. “#info”, I felt, did not really belong in a measure of whether a not a meeting was productive.

My take is that #info should be used primarily as a reminder of things that have already been brought up on the appropriate mailing list. It serves as context for what’s going on in the discussion and should not be used to bring up new ideas.

Fedora teams particularly, and many open source teams generally, are too geographically distributed for IRC meetings to be where new items come up. Ideally, even #agreed should be mostly a formal recognition of the consensus on the mailing list. When contributors span the globe, it is nearly impossible to find a time when everyone can meet, making asynchronous communication essential.

This lines up with my philosophy about meetings in general. It’s better to share information ahead of time so people can evaluate it before the meeting. This saves time, since less explanation is required during the meeting, and it gives people the opportunity to more rationally consider their position on the topic.

Matt also suggested that #info is a way to call out things that were brought up as new in a meeting. To the extent that it’s better than not calling out new things, I agree. However, as Karsten suggested, perhaps #idea is a better.

Each team will have, to some extent, its own culture and its own rules for coming to decisions. The important thing is to make sure that contributors who can’t regularly attend IRC meetings still have the opportunity to participate in the decision-making process.

The Fundamental Theorem of Developing FLOSS

Recently Fedora developer and all-around good gal Máirín Duffy has been working on what she calls “The Fundamental Theorem of Developing FLOSS“. Inspired by what she called “opinionated non-doers”, this is an attempt to catalogue the sorts of behaviors a FLOSS developer should expect. Most of the entries revolve around change, particularly the addition or removal of features.

This isn’t some “those damn lusers” screed. Instead, Máirín offers a fairly objective summary of the experience of her and others. It’s a rather useful, if cynical, checklist of the kinds of feedback a developer might expect when introducing a change. Knowing what will happen in advance allows a project to better communicate the reasoning and impacts for a change (though the Axiom of Assuming the Worst would suggest this is a futile effort).

If I were to claim any beef with the theorem as it currently exists, it would be the Axiom of Ignoring the Source. It’s not that it’s wrong, necessarily, but that it’s incomplete. There are certainly those who are capable of reading the source, making changes, and submitting those change and yet decide not to. Sometimes it’s laziness, sometimes there are other reasons.

But there are a lot of people, and I would generally count myself among them, who lack the ability to understand the source or to make the changes I want. I think we, as various open source communities, often assume the hypothetical user is as knowledgeable as the developer and forget about the non-developer users. “Whining in an online forum” is often as much as someone can do (though it’s certainly not a productive way of expressing discontent). I’d also argue that access to source is not “the entire point” of FLOSS, but instead a means to an end. That’s more of a semantic quibble than any actual disagreement.

I suspect there’s a Fundamental Theorem of Using FLOSS to be written that is the user perspective of some of the same issues.

File a bug!

The ability for users to submit patches is often touted by advocates of open source software. “Patches welcome!” is a common refrain on mailing lists. Even if someone lacks the ability to diagnose and fix an issue, they can file a bug in the project’s system. Indeed, there’s an unwritten social expectation that users file a bug.

Sadly, these are often just empty words. “Patches welcome” can be a seemingly-polite way of saying “your problem is not important to me. Go solve it yourself and I’ll accept your solution.” And telling a user to go file a bug can be equally dismissive, especially if the bug-filing process is unpleasant.

I certainly don’t mean to imply that all or even most open source developers use these phrases as a polite cover for their disinterest. There are jerks, of course, but I suspect most developers genuinely want bug reports and patches. Last week, a very busy developer replied to a mailing list post with a terse “file a bug.” Now, I happen to know this particular developer and I know he’s keenly interested in fixing bugs. On this day, he was swamped and didn’t have time to get to the issue right away. Suspecting from the original email that the user who reported the bug wasn’t deeply technical, I took the liberty of reproducing the issue and filing a bug with the details.

Would the person who originally reported the issue have filed the bug done so if I hadn’t? We’ll never know, but I do know that he didn’t by the time I did. After creating a Red Hat Bugzilla account, selecting the right options, and filling out the bug report, he’d have to hope the developer meant it and that he bug would get fixed. As anyone who has been around a while can attest, just because a bug is filed, that doesn’t guarantee it will be fixed in the next few years.

One particular bug that I filed sticks in my memory. It was undeniably a bug, I attached a patch to fix it, and yet the bug remained untouched through several Fedora releases. Granted, it was a relatively minor issue, but if I weren’t involved with the project, I’d have been pretty put off by this. Of course, no one owes me a fix, but as Chris Siebenmann noted, if there’s a social obligation to file a bug, there’s also a social obligation to deal with the bug.

This morning,I asked on Twitter if anyone had what they’d call a “positive” bug reporting experience (as opposed to simply a not-negative experience). I was pleasantly surprised when several people chimed in to say they had. Small projects were generally the ones that drew the good responses (Jordan Sissel was mentioned by multiple people).

So what makes for a positive experience? Rapid acknowledgement and resolution were mentioned several times. Those who replied mentioned courteous and helpful interactions (e.g. asking constructive questions, filing an appropriate bug when the original bug was mis-filed). @phrawzty summed it up well: “Most importantly, however: good intentions were assumed. I never felt treated like a dangerous outsider.”

This is an area wide open for study (and I may end up doing just that), but in the meantime projects should consider how they present themselves. Large projects with more resources should make an active effort to devote some time to bug handling as a community outreach effort (I suspect large projects have worse bug experiences, in part due to the fact that nobody owns the process). When you say “patches welcome” or “file a bug”, consider what you’re really saying and if people will take it the way you mean it.

(Thanks to those who provided feedback: @cpj1, Matt SimmonsMatthew General, Patrick Cable@phrawzty, Rick Waldron@SysAdm DreddThomas Ballinger, @Twirrim, and anyone else I failed to mention.)

Using systemd tmpfiles

As part of my regular duties at my day job, I provide some community support on the HTCondor users’ mailing list. At the beginning of the week, someone came to the list with Fedora RPM troubles. I was able to track it down to the fact that the RPM didn’t correctly create some temporary directories.

But why not? It’s been a while since I did any RPM building, but at first glance, the spec file looked fine. The systemd tmpfiles configuration looked good, too. Then someone else found the cause of the problem: according to the Fedora packaging guidelines, a package should write the config file andcreate the directory. It turns out that tmpfiles.d is only processed at boot time (or when manually invoked), so a package that needs a file/directory to exist needs to create it at install time (or require a restart).

I was going to file an RFE, but I found a related one marked as CLOSED->WONTFIX. I understand the reasoning here, so I won’t reopen it to argue. It’s just a surprising behavior if it’s not something you regularly deal with.

elementary misses the point

A recent post on the elementary blog about how they ask for payment on download created a bit of a stir this week. One particular sentence struck a nerve (it has since been removed from the post): “We want users to understand that they’re pretty much cheating the system when they choose not to pay for software.”

No, they aren’t. I understand that people want to get paid for their work. It’s only natural. Especially when you’d really like that work to be what puts food on the table and not something you do after you work a full week for someone else. I certainly don’t begrudge developers asking for money. I don’t even begrudge requiring payment before being able to download the software. The developers are absolutely right when they say “elementary is under no obligation to release our compiled operating system for free download.”

Getting paid for developing open source software is not antithetical to open source or free (libre) software principles. Neither the OSI’s Open Source Definition nor the Free Software Foundation’s Free Software Definition necessarily preclude a developer from charging for works. That most software that’s free-as-in-freedom is also free-as-in-beer is true, but irrelevant. Even elementary touts the gratis nature of their work on the front page (talk about mixed messages):

100% free, both in terms of pricing and licensing. But you're a cheater if you take the free option.

100% free, both in terms of pricing and licensing. But you’re a cheater if you take the free option.

Simply put, the developers cannot choose to offer their work for free and then get mad when people take them up on the offer. Worse, they cannot alienate their community by calling them cheaters. Of the money the elementary receives, how much of it goes upstream to the Linux Foundation, the FSF, and the numerous other projects that make elementary possible? Surely they wouldn’t be so hypocritical as to take the work of others for free?

An open source project is more than just coders. It’s more than just coders and funders. A truly healthy project of any appreciable size will have people who contribute in various ways: writing documentation; providing support on mailing lists, fora, etc.; triaging bug reports; filing bug reports; doing design; marketing (including word-of-mouth). This work is important to the project, too, and should be considered an in-kind form of payment.

It’s up to each project to decide what they want in return for the work put in. But it’s up to each project to accept that people will take from all of the choices that are available. If that includes “I get it for free”, then the right answer is to find ways for those people to become a part of the community and contribute how they can.

Introducing the “Permissive 3000” license

Software licenses aren’t necessarily the easiest texts to understand. This issue is compounded when the person trying to understand the license is in a different jurisdiction or is a non-native speaker of English. A recent thread on the OSI’s license-discuss list brought this issue to light. According to the original poster, a project using the BSD 3-Clause license was used without attribution in a proprietary product. The developer lost the court case because the judge did not understand English well. The poster brought an attempt at a rewrite to the list, but it had some contradictions and other meaningful differences. So I thought I’d give it a try myself.

This weekend, I started from the original BSD 3-Clause license and excised all of the words not on the Oxford 3000™ word list (or reasonably close modifications, e.g. verb tense conjugations). I did make an exception for the word “copyright”, since it seems indispensable to a software license. In all other cases, I used synonyms and circumlocution in order to preserve the meaning while remaining within the constrained word list. This was challenging at times, since circumlocution can end up making the document more difficult to understand than an unknown word might. The difficulty is further compounded by the fact that many words have a distinct legal meaning and a synonym might not have the same weight.

I consoled myself with the fact that software warranties (where most of the real challenge was) are probably not that useful anyway. Furthermore, just because a word has a distinct meaning in American courts, that doesn’t mean that foreign legal systems have the same definitions. Trying to use largely U.S.-centric licenses written in English is a challenge for a global society, but I don’t know that a system of jurisdiction/language-specific licenses would be any better.

In any case, without further ado, I present the Permissive 3000 license. It’s highly experimental and totally unvetted by legal professionals, so nobody should use it for anything except a learning exercise. I’m looking forward to some constructive feedback and hopefully it sparks a discussion about how licenses can be simplified so that they’re more easily understood by judges, developers, and users alike.

Using tracer to point out service restart needs

If you’re seeing this via Fedora Planet, you probably saw Miroslav Suchý’s post from a few days ago about a project called Tracer. Tracer is a friendly tool to tell you what outdated services are running. With the dnf plugin installed, you get a list at the end of the upgrade process.

For example, right after I installed the plugin and ran an upgrade, I was told that I needed to restart the Samba service. In addition, there were several programs that needed to be manually restarted (KeePassX and Spider Oak, to name two). Plus, one process required a logout, and one required a full system reboot.

I’ve found this to be pretty useful, since I don’t always realize what services need to be restarted after package updates. I have a decade of system administration experience, so it’s not too bad for me. For others, this is a great way to shine light on exactly what needs to be restarted and how.

On Linus Torvalds and communities

This week, the Internet was ablaze with reactions to comments made by Linus Torvalds at Linux.conf.au. Unsurprisingly, Torvalds defended the tone he employs on the Linux kernel mailing list, where he holds no punches. “I’m not a nice person, and I don’t care about you. I care about the technology and the kernel—that’s what’s important to me,” he said (as reported by Ars Technica). He later said “all that [diversity] stuff is just details and not really important.”

The reactions were mixed. Some were upset at the fact that an influential figure like Torvalds didn’t take the opportunity to address what they see as a major issue in the Linux community. Others dismissed those who were upset by pointing to the technical quality of Linux, cultural differences, etc.

I don’t subscribe to the LKML, so most of the posts I’ve seen are generally when someone is trying to point out a specific event (whether a behavior or a technical discussion), and I don’t claim to have a good sense for what that particular mailing list is like. Torvalds and the Linux community have developed a great technical product, but the community needs work.

Speaking to open source communities in general, too many people use the impersonal nature of email to mistake rudeness for directness. Direct and honest technical criticisms are a vital part of any collaborative development. Insults and viciousness are not. Some people thrive in (or at least tolerate) those kinds of environments, but they are incredibly off-putting to everyone else, particularly newcomers.

Open source communities, like any community, need to be welcoming to new members. This allows for the infusion of new ideas and new perspectives: some of which will be obnoxiously naive, some of which will be positively transformative. The naive posts of newcomers can be taxing when you’ve seen the same thing hundreds of times, but everyone has to learn somewhere. The solution is to have a team armed with pre-written responses in order to prevent frustrated emails.

Not being a jerk doesn’t just mean tolerating noobs, though. Communities should have an established code of conduct which addresses both annoying and mean actors. When the code of contact is being repeatedly breached, the violator needs to be nudged in the right direction. When a community is welcoming and actively works to remain that way, it thrives. That’s how it can get the diversity of ideas and grow the technical competency that Linus Torvalds so desires.

It is done!

About four and a half years ago, I decided to apply to graduate school. Though I had sworn I was done with school when I completed my bachelor’s degree in 2006, the idea of a master’s degree began to seem reasonable. With Purdue’s staff discount and my department’s forgivable loan scholarship, I could pay roughly a quarter of the “retail” price. In January of 2011, I began my coursework.

Since then, my wife and I have welcomed two children into the world. I have changed jobs twice, the second time leaving the university for a much more stressful and time-consuming role at a small company. For four years, I tried to balance my family, my academics, my employment, open source contributions, and (on rare occasion) my own mental and physical health.

It is the hardest thing I have done in my life, and although there is evidence to suggest that I performed well, I never felt like the balance was right. At least one area always got less than it deserved. Sadly, myself and my family were most often on the short end.

Nonetheless, my family remained unwaveringly supportive, even when I was basically non-existent for weeks at a time. My colleagues never complained (to me, at least) about my absences during odd hours of the work day. My professors praised my work, particularly the thesis which I defended in November (more on that in a later post). My Fedora contributions became effectively non-existent, but nobody seems to begrudge me for that, and I look forward to being able to contribute again.

I did not, and could not have, accomplished this on my own. I took great pleasure in having my family in attendance yesterday as I participated in a long-awaited commencement ceremony. For everyone else who provided support and encouragement along the way, no matter to what degree, I offer my most sincere thanks. We did it!