Seeing yourself in software

For more than twenty years, I’ve been using Free/Libre and Open Source Software for the vast majority of my computing. During much of that time, I’ve also been trying to convince other people that they should be using F/LOSS too. My arguments haven’t generally been about technical superiority, but about community, activism, and rejecting monolithic proprietary technology companies. When the arguments I make have touched on utility, they’ve been arguments like “It will do what you need it to do” not “It has superior performance to the thing you’re currently using.” I leave other people to make the arguments about technical superiority. If I’m trying to sell F/LOSS to you, it’s because I think it represents a better set of values than the alternatives, and that using it won’t be a step down from whatever you’re currently doing.

I was lucky to grow up around computing in the ‘90s. There were always computers in the house, normally without their cases, and though I may not have understood everything that was happening under the hood, the interior of a computer was never mystical or opaque. I had a few false starts with Linux, and was at one point almost brought over by a version of Mandrake which shipped with the promise of being capable of running The Sims (something that was very important to my computing needs around the year 2001).

By sometime in my teens, Linux managed to become my day-to-day operating system. The politics of F/LOSS slowly seeped in around the edges. Eventually, through a desire to do artistic things on my computer, I found dyne:bolic, a distribution of Linux that was both explicitly made for media production, and also overtly political, not just for the sake of software freedom, but for the sake of activism. This went well with the activistic tendencies I’d developed while coming of age during the time of the Second Gulf War. I’m not using dyne:bolic now, but I can still look back on it and see that the way it presented itself (self-describing as “Rastasoft”) helped to solidify my understanding that my desire to use and engage with F/LOSS was not just about technical capacity or ability to tinker, but about trying to align my software choices with my politics.

I'm a Mac, I'm a PC

But this is not, in fact, meant to be a genealogy of my own Linux usage, or a confessional about the political awakenings of my youth and young-adulthood. This is about how people see themselves in the way they use computers and the choices they make around software and digital services.

Despite that, I do need to keep it personal for a moment longer. Before I was a Linux user and devotee of F/LOSS in general, I bought software in boxes, from those computer stores that used to exist. I remember the time-consuming and onerous process of installing CorelDRAW, and I remember that it wasn’t cheap. Software was something on a Christmas or birthday wishlist, something to save up for. That box of eight CD-ROMs would be incredibly costly, and also incredibly exciting. Moving up from CorelDRAW 3.0, which we already had on the family computer, to CorelDRAW 10 (which could animate vector graphics) felt like it would change my life. The things I’d be able to do once I moved away from the antiquated tool I was working with, and onto something new. Software can change what you think you’re capable of.

A little later in the 2000s, the “Get a Mac” advertisements were all over TV, juxtaposing the cool, personal Mac character and the buttoned-down, businesslike PC. The message was simple: a PC is for work, but a Mac is for your actual life. Macs (and by extension, their users) are cooler than stodgy PCs. Software can not only change what you think you’re capable of, but align with who you think you are.

Point being: software choices (when we have the luxury of making choices, rather than having software or digital services imposed on us by school, work, government, or social circumstances) are about both capacity and self-perception. I may be looking for a tool that can accomplish a certain task, but chances are also good that, all other things being equal, I’d like the tool I’m using to resonate with who I think I am and what I think I like.

Knowing that alternatives exist

Now, the phrase “all other things being equal” is doing a lot of heavy lifting here, especially because all other things are generally not equal. We may not know that there are options, for example. You may well have been puzzled by my enthusiasm for CorelDRAW, if you never knew that anything but Adobe Illustrator existed for making vector graphics. (Possibly, you don't see yourself as a graphics person at all, don’t care about the distinction between vectors and rasters, and are wondering if all of these things are a different kind of Photoshop.) It’s entirely possible that the question of which web browser to use hasn’t even entered your life (though knowing what kind of person reads this thing, I doubt that’s the case for about 90% of you). There’s one installed on the computer when it arrives, so why mess with something that works? Sometimes, the choice is not making a choice beyond the decision to buy a certain device, and accept the software it comes with.

But there are choices to make, and they do matter.

We are currently seeing, on a large scale, the consequences of not making values-based choices about software. For those who are invested in helping people make different software choices, the “It’s technically better” argument and even the “Its does what you need it to do” one may need to come after the “Other things exist” explanation. Proprietary operating systems have done a damn good job of becoming walled gardens, and if you’re not already curious about computing, but just want to accomplish basic things, there’s little motivation to climb over those walls.

What’s interesting about the current moment, though, is that people who haven’t previously been curious about their computers (they work, why mess with a good thing?) are now becoming curious about the values and politics of their computing choices. This is a great time to be ready with the one-two punch of “Other things exist” and “It does what you need it to do (and here’s how).” I have been personally guilty of not being ready with good versions of these when given the chance. I over-complexify, I hedge, I try to make additional points. When a colleague asks “I'm ready to be less dependent on Microsoft, but what am I supposed to use instead of Microsoft365?” the best answer is a link to something that does what they need, not a dissertation on the comparative benefits of different options.

But even being ready with the knowledge of what's out there, what it can do, and how it can help meet a use need isn't enough. The motivation to change is likely not coming from a fundamental dissatisfaction with the way the user's current software works, but with distress about what continuing to use it means, in terms of self-image and values alignment.

A better reflection

The mess, distress, and disenchantment of US-based Big Tech right now means we’re finally in a situation that allows many people who previously found that such software and services fitted their self-image well enough are now reflecting on whether or not that’s still the case. This self-reflection creates an opening for alternatives. When the catalyst for the examination of software choices is an ethical crisis, the moment is especially good for software and digital services which have better credentials in terms of values-alignment with their potential users.

So what do we need to do if we're the ones taking the advocacy role, wanting to help people believe in the software and digital services we already believe in? We need to have not just the technical and functional responses at our disposal, but also the ones about self-image and perception. The technical and functional arguments both have their role (to varying degrees, depending on the audience), but the important and overlooked piece of the process is helping people see themselves in the software and digital services we're advocating for.

The days when using F/LOSS meant sacrificing ease of use are basically over. Proprietary software has gathered a lot more friction, and an awful lot of F/LOSS is now better at achieving the "just works" status that used to be the marketing proposition of the cool and easy Mac. The functional and technical preconditions are pretty much sorted. For most computing needs, making a deal with the devil is no longer necessary. But it's another step to help people see themselves in the alternatives. This is the next challenge: helping people who – for political reasons, autonomy reasons, or abject frustration and disillusionment reasons – want to make a change, recognize themselves in the alternatives. The alternative that fits best will not only be appropriate for the use case, but will have an easier alignment with what the user wants to see when they look in the mirror. It will be a better reflection of who they want to be. If we want to be good advocates, it's our job to hold the mirror up.