What’s more, Raymond decided, Torvalds had found a way around Brooks’ Law. First articulated by Fred P. Brooks, manager of IBM’s OS/360 project and author of the 1975 book, The Mythical Man-Month, Brooks’ Law held that adding developers to a project only resulted in further project delays. Believing as most hackers that software, like soup, benefits from a limited number of cooks, Raymond sensed something revolutionary at work. In inviting more and more cooks into the kitchen, Torvalds had actually found away to make the resulting software better.[3]
Raymond put his observations on paper. He crafted them into a speech, which he promptly delivered before a group of friends and neighbors in Chester County, Pennsylvania. Dubbed “The Cathedral and the Bazaar”, the speech contrasted the management styles of the GNU Project with the management style of Torvalds and the kernel hackers. Raymond says the response was enthusiastic, but not nearly as enthusiastic as the one he received during the 1997 Linux Kongress, a gathering of Linux users in Germany the next spring.
“At the Kongress, they gave me a standing ovation at the end of the speech”, Raymond recalls. “I took that as significant for two reasons. For one thing, it meant they were excited by what they were hearing. For another thing, it meant they were excited even after hearing the speech delivered through a language barrier”.
Eventually, Raymond would convert the speech into a paper, also titled “The Cathedral and the Bazaar”. The paper drew its name from Raymond’s central analogy. GNU programs were “cathedrals”, impressive, centrally planned monuments to the hacker ethic, built to stand the test of time. Linux, on the other hand, was more like “a great babbling bazaar”, a software program developed through the loose decentralizing dynamics of the Internet.
Implicit within each analogy was a comparison of Stallman and Torvalds. Where Stallman served as the classic model of the cathedral architect-i.e., a programming “wizard” who could disappear for 18 months and return with something like the GNU C Compiler-Torvalds was more like a genial dinner-party host. In letting others lead the Linux design discussion and stepping in only when the entire table needed a referee, Torvalds had created a development model very much reflective of his own laid-back personality. From the Torvalds’ perspective, the most important managerial task was not imposing control but keeping the ideas flowing.
Summarized Raymond, “I think Linus’s cleverest and most consequential hack was not the construction of the Linux kernel itself, but rather his invention of the Linux development model”.[4]
In summarizing the secrets of Torvalds’ managerial success, Raymond himself had pulled off a coup. One of the audience members at the Linux Kongress was Tim O’Reilly, publisher of O’Reilly & Associates, a company specializing in software manuals and software-related books (and the publisher of this book). After hearing Raymond’s Kongress speech, O’Reilly promptly invited Raymond to deliver it again at the company’s inaugural Perl Conference later that year in Monterey, California.
Although the conference was supposed to focus on Perl, a scripting language created by Unix hacker Larry Wall, O’Reilly assured Raymond that the conference would address other free software technologies. Given the growing commercial interest in Linux and Apache, a popular free software web server, O’Reilly hoped to use the event to publicize the role of free software in creating the entire infrastructure of the Internet. From web-friendly languages such as Perl and Python to back-room programs such as BIND (the Berkeley Internet Naming Daemon), a software tool that lets users replace arcane IP numbers with the easy-to-remember domain-name addresses (e.g., amazon.com), and sendmail, the most popular mail program on the Internet, free software had become an emergent phenomenon. Like a colony of ants creating a beautiful nest one grain of sand at a time, the only thing missing was the communal self-awareness. O’Reilly saw Raymond’s speech as a good way to inspire that self-awareness, to drive home the point that free software development didn’t start and end with the GNU Project. Programming languages, such as Perl and Python, and Internet software, such as BIND, sendmail, and Apache, demonstrated that free software was already ubiquitous and influential. He also assured Raymond an even warmer reception than the one at Linux Kongress.
O’Reilly was right. “This time, I got the standing ovation before the speech”, says Raymond, laughing.
As predicted, the audience was stocked not only with hackers, but with other people interested in the growing power of the free software movement. One contingent included a group from Netscape, the Mountain View, California startup then nearing the end game of its three-year battle with Microsoft for control of the web-browser market.
Intrigued by Raymond’s speech and anxious to win back lost market share, Netscape executives took the message back to corporate headquarters. A few months later, in January, 1998, the company announced its plan to publish the source code of its flagship Navigator web browser in the hopes of enlisting hacker support in future development.
When Netscape CEO Jim Barksdale cited Raymond’s “Cathedral and the Bazaar” essay as a major influence upon the company’s decision, the company instantly elevated Raymond to the level of hacker celebrity. Determined not to squander the opportunity, Raymond traveled west to deliver interviews, advise Netscape executives, and take part in the eventual party celebrating the publication of Netscape Navigator’s source code. The code name for Navigator’s source code was “Mozilla”: a reference both to the program’s gargantuan size-30 million lines of code-and to its heritage. Developed as a proprietary offshoot of Mosaic, the web browser created by Marc Andreessen at the University of Illinois, Mozilla was proof, yet again, that when it came to building new programs, most programmers preferred to borrow on older, modifiable programs.
While in California, Raymond also managed to squeeze in a visit to VA Research, a Santa Clara-based company selling workstations with the GNU/Linux operating system preinstalled. Convened by Raymond, the meeting was small. The invite list included VA founder Larry Augustin, a few VA employees, and Christine Peterson, president of the Foresight Institute, a Silicon Valley think tank specializing in nanotechnology.
“The meeting’s agenda boiled down to one item: how to take advantage of Netscape’s decision so that other companies might follow suit?” Raymond doesn’t recall the conversation that took place, but he does remember the first complaint addressed. Despite the best efforts of Stallman and other hackers to remind people that the word “free” in free software stood for freedom and not price, the message still wasn’t getting through. Most business executives, upon hearing the term for the first time, interpreted the word as synonymous with “zero cost”, tuning out any follow up messages in short order. Until hackers found a way to get past this cognitive dissonance, the free software movement faced an uphill climb, even after Netscape.
Peterson, whose organization had taken an active interest in advancing the free software cause, offered an alternative: open source.
Looking back, Peterson says she came up with the open source term while discussing Netscape’s decision with a friend in the public relations industry. She doesn’t remember where she came upon the term or if she borrowed it from another field, but she does remember her friend disliking the term.[5]
3.
Brooks’ Law is the shorthand summary of the following quote taken from Brooks’ book:
Since software construction is inherently a systems effort-an exercise in complex interrelationships-communication effort is great, and it quickly dominates the decrease in individual task time brought about by partitioning. Adding more men then lengthens, not shortens, the schedule.
See Fred P. Brooks,
5.
See Malcolm Maclachlan, “Profit Motive Splits Open Source Movement”,