We Built the Internet on Open Source. Now It’s Being Sold Back to Us.
My faith in Open Source isn’t gone… it’s just complicated.
My Journey into Open Source
In 2004, I got my first computer. Not because I earned it, but because I had infected the family computer with a rootkit and my dad decided it was safer if I had my own machine. A family friend gave me a CD-RW with Knoppix, and from that moment, my journey into Linux, open source, and understanding how computers work truly began.
Before long, I switched to Ubuntu as my main operating system. I explored its games, learned terminal commands, and experimented with customizing every part of the system. Years later, when Gnome 3 launched, I built a full Lord of the Rings-themed desktop just for fun. The open-source world was a playground for a teenager who had more curiosity than social plans.
As a kid with a strong moral compass, stealing software was not an option. Instead, I turned to open-source alternatives for everything.
Photoshop? GIMP.
Dreamweaver? Notepad++.
These tools were my introduction to the power of open communities building together. They were not always as polished as their commercial counterparts, but they were accessible, capable, and full of heart.
The Other Side of the Coin
When I moved from hobbyist to professional, it took about six months to see where open source could fall short in enterprise environments.
The missing pieces were clear:
Warranties
Professional services
Support
You cannot call a random open-source maintainer at 2 AM to troubleshoot a production outage, especially when that person is unpaid and doing it as a side project. Even when there is funding involved, support is rarely guaranteed unless you have a formal agreement in place.
That said, some projects bridge the gap. Many open-source tools now offer free community versions with optional paid add-ons or support contracts. This model lets individuals access powerful tools at no cost while giving enterprises the reliability they need for long-term sustainability.
And Then I Got into Development
Proprietary tools have their strengths, but they are rarely perfect fits for every organization. The 80/20 rule applies well here: a product may meet most needs, but the remaining 20 percent of functionality often matters the most.
When I started developing software professionally, I assumed that commercial tools were built entirely from scratch. I pictured large teams handcrafting everything in-house. That illusion disappeared quickly once I discovered frameworks, shared libraries, and registries like NPM.
I also realized that sometimes “proprietary” really meant “open-source project with a new skin, a license change, and a much higher price tag.”
In response to this kind of practice, the open-source community created the GPLv3 license. It allowed software to remain free to use but required any derivative works to also remain open. This clause protected contributors from seeing their free work turned into locked commercial products without acknowledgment or reciprocity.
The Lesson That Came Later
The reason I wanted to write this post is because of a trend I find troubling: the steady shift from open-source tools to “source available” or fully closed models.
You do not have to search far to find examples. Companies like OpenAI, HashiCorp, and others have moved from open to restricted licenses in the past few years. These changes often follow funding rounds, acquisitions, or leadership transitions.
The hard truth is that a project’s commitment to openness only lasts as long as the people who control its license. And once significant money enters the picture, that commitment can change.
Do I blame people for wanting to make a profit? Not at all. I have written proprietary software myself and made a living doing it. When you are responsible for employees and their families, stability matters. My work was clearly defined as closed source from the start, and everyone understood that.
What feels different now are the situations where long-standing open projects close their doors after years of community support. Contributors have fixed bugs, added features, and improved security. Their efforts helped make those tools successful. Then, seemingly overnight, those same contributors are locked out of the work they helped build.
So What?
That is the question, and the answer is not satisfying. There is very little anyone can do.
I still believe creators have the right to choose how they share their software. Some projects should remain closed. Others thrive in the open. But for me, the meaning of “open source” has changed.
The phrase no longer feels as transparent or trustworthy as it once did. I will continue to use and support open-source tools, but I do so now with a healthy dose of caution and a little less faith in permanence.