Post Syndicated from Bradley M. Kuhn original http://ebb.org/bkuhn/blog/2015/11/26/conservancy-fundraiser.html
[ A version of this blog post
was crossposted
on Conservancy’s blog. ]
I’m quite delighted with my career choice. As an undergraduate and even
in graduate school, I still expected my career extend my earlier careers in
the software industry: a mixture of software developer and sysadmin. I’d
probably be a DevOps person now, had I stuck with that career path.
Instead, I picked the charity route: which (not financially, but
work-satisfaction-wise) is like winning a lottery. There are very few
charities related to software freedom, and frankly, if (like me) you
believe in universal software freedom and reject proprietary software
entirely, there are two charities for you:
the Free Software Foundation, where I used to
work, and Software Freedom
Conservancy, where I work now.
But software freedom is not merely an ideology for me. I believe the
ideology matters because I see the lives of developers and users are better
when they have software freedom. I first got a taste of this
conferences in the late 1990s. My friend James and I stayed in dive motels
and even slept in a rental car one night to be able to attend. There was
excitement in the Perl community (my first Free Software community). I was
exhilarated to meet in person the people I’d seen only as god-like hackers
posting on perl5-porters. James was so excited he asked me to take a
picture of him jumping as high as he could with his fist in the air in
front of the main conference banner. At the time, I complained; I was
mortified and felt like a tourist taking that picture. But looking back, I
remember that James and I felt that same excitement and we just
expressed it differently.
I channeled that thrill into finding a way that my day job would focus on
software freedom. As an activist since my teenage years, I concentrated
specifically on how I could preserve, protect and promote this valuable
culture and ideology in a manner that would assure the rights of developers
and users to improve and share the software they write and use.
I’ve enjoyed the work; I attend more great conferences than I ever
imagined I would, where now people occasionally walk up to me with the same
kind of fanboy reverence that I reserved for Larry Wall,
RMS and the heroes of my
Free Software generation. I like my work. I’ve been careful, however, to
avoid a sense of entitlement. Since I read it in 1991, I have never
forgotten RMS’ point
in the GNU
Manifesto: Most of us cannot manage to get any money for
, a point he continues
standing on the street and making faces. But we are not, as a result,
condemned to spend our lives standing on the street making faces, and
starving. We do something else.
in his regular speeches,
by adding: I [could] just … give up those principles and start
… writing proprietary software. I looked for another alternative,
and there was an obvious one. I could leave the software field and do
something else. Now I had no other special noteworthy skills, but I’m sure
I could have become a waiter. Not at a fancy restaurant; they wouldn’t
hire me; but I could be a waiter somewhere. And many programmers, they say
to me, “the people who hire programmers demand [that I write
proprietary software] and if I don’t do [it], I’ll starve”. It’s
literally the word they use. Well, as a waiter, you’re not going to
starve.
RMS’ point is not merely to expose the
false dilemma
inherent in: I have to
, but also to expose the sense of entitlement in assuming a
program, even if my software is proprietary, because that’s what companies pay me to
do
fundamental right to do the work you want. This applies not just to
software authorship (the work I originally trained for) but also the
political activism and non-profit organizational work that I do now.
I’ve spent most of my career at charities because I believe deeply that I
should take actions that advance the public good, and because I have a
strategic vision for the best methods to advance software freedom. My
strategic goals to advance software freedom include two basic tenets: (a)
provide structure for Free Software projects in a charitable home (so that
developers can focus on writing software, not administration, and so that
the projects aren’t unduly influenced by for-profit corporations) and (b)
uphold and defend Free Software licensing, such
as copyleft, to ensure software
freedom.
I don’t, however, arrogantly believe that these two priorities are
inherently right. Strategic plans work toward a larger goal, and pursing
success of a larger ideological mission requires open-mindedness regarding
strategies. Nevertheless, any strategy, once decided, requires zealous
pursuit. It’s with this mindset that I teamed up with my
colleague, Karen Sandler, to
form Software Freedom
Conservancy.
Conservancy, like most tiny charities, survives on the determination of
its small management staff. Karen Sandler, Conservancy’s Executive
Director, and I have a unique professional collaboration. She and I share
a commitment to promoting and defending
moral
principles in the context of software freedom, along with an
unrelenting work ethic to match. I believe fundamentally that she and I
have the skills, ability, and commitment to meet these two key strategic
goals for software freedom.
Yet, I don’t think we’re entitled to do this work. And, herein there’s
another great feature of a charity. A charity not only serves the
public good; the USA IRS also requires that a charity
be funded primarily by donations from the public.
I like this feature for various reasons. Particularly, in the context of
the fundraiser that
Conservancy announced this week, I think about it terms of seeking a
mandate from the public. As Conservancy poises to begin its tenth year,
Karen and I as its leaders stand at a crossroads. For financial reasons of
the organization’s budget, we’ve been thrust to test this question: Does
.
the public of Free Software users and developers actually want the
work that we do?
While I’m nervous that perhaps the answer is no
, I’m nevertheless
not afraid to ask the question. So, we’ve asked. We asked all of you to
show us that you want our work to continue. We set two levels, matching
the two strategic goals I mentioned. (The second is harder and more
expensive to do than the first, so we’ve asked many more of you to support
us if you want it.)
It’s become difficult in recent years to launch a non-profit fundraiser
(which have existed for generations) and not think of the relatively recent
advent of gofundme, Kickstarter, and the like. These new systems provide a
(sadly, usually proprietary software) platform for people to ask the
public: Is my business idea and/or personal goal worth your money?
.
While I’m dubious about those sites, I do believe in democracy
enough to build my career on a structure that requires an election (of
sorts). Karen and I don’t need you to go to the polls and cast your
ballot, but we do ask you consider if what we do for a living at
Conservancy is worth US$10 per month to you. If it is, I hope you’ll
“cast a vote” for Conservancy
and become a Conservancy
supporter now.
