What open-source software unexpectedly revealed about codependency, parenting,
and resilience
I was reading an article about open-source software and digital independence when an unexpected psychological metaphor appeared.
WordPress came to mind.
It’s open source.
A little messy at times.
Plugins conflict.
Updates occasionally create drama.
No perfect central authority making sure your exact setup runs flawlessly.
And yet, it powers a remarkable part of the internet.
Why?
Because imperfect openness often beats elegant dependency.
And suddenly, this no longer felt like a story about software.
Because the same pattern appears in relationships, parenting, organizations, and even in how we relate to ourselves.
When support becomes dependency
A perfectly controlled environment can feel wonderful.
Predictable.
Smooth.
Safe.
Efficient.
But there is a hidden risk.
When everything is solved from above—
by a partner, a parent, a manager, a system—people can gradually stop participating in their own development.
They may lose confidence in their own ability to handle uncertainty.
Not because they are incapable.
But because they rarely get the chance to discover that they are capable.
This is one of the hidden dynamics inside codependency.
One person overfunctions.
The other underfunctions.
One becomes the regulator, fixer, stabilizer, emotional infrastructure.
The other becomes increasingly dependent on that structure.
At first, this may look like love, care, or support.
But over time, support can quietly become control.
And dependency can begin to masquerade as safety.
A more widened view of this dependancy discussion
Here you can read about the underlying patterns of consciousness AND Creation:
Growth requires wobble
An open imperfect system asks something different:
“Here is the structure. It may wobble. Learn to participate.”
That is uncomfortable.
But discomfort is not always danger.
Children learn balance by wobbling.
Adults learn emotional resilience by tolerating uncertainty.
Healthy relationships involve mutual participation, not one-sided emotional maintenance.
Therapy often works in a similar way.
The goal is not to create perfect dependence on the therapist as the person who always knows, regulates, or rescues.
The goal is to help people strengthen their own internal capacities.
Not abandonment.
Not chaos.
But supported autonomy.
The hidden cost of overcontrol
Control often comes from love.
Or fear.
Usually both.
Parents want to protect.
Partners want to help.
Organizations want efficiency.
But when control becomes too complete, something important can weaken:
initiative, adaptability, confidence, stewardship.
Resilience doesn’t grow in perfectly frictionless systems.
It grows where participation is required.
Imperfect systems can create stronger humans
The strange beauty of open systems is that they ask something of us.
Participation.
Learning.
Responsibility.
Not passive consumption.
Capability.
Perhaps resilient relationships look less like polished luxury products…
…and more like living ecosystems.
Messy.
Distributed.
Self-correcting.
Participatory.
Because maybe real health is not the absence of wobble.
Maybe it is the growing ability to move with it.
The discussion that led to the making of this post:
But if you look at a phenomenon as WordPress, which is open source, it seems to work remarkably well.
Yes — WordPress is actually one of the strongest arguments for open source at scale.
It powers a huge chunk of the web (historically around 40%+ of websites, depending on how measured), which is astonishing for something with open code and a distributed ecosystem.
Why it works so well:
1. Core + ecosystem separation WordPress itself stays relatively stable.
Then around it:
themes
plugins
hosting companies
agencies
developers
SEO tooling (like Yoast)
So the open core becomes a platform economy.
That’s a powerful model: open foundation, commercial services layered on top.
Very Linux-like.
2. Massive community = resilience Because so many people depend on it:
bugs get found
security issues get patched
documentation exists
forums exist
developers know it
Scale creates robustness.
This is the opposite of the “one exhausted maintainer” problem.
3. No hostage situation One huge psychological advantage:
Your site is yours.
You can:
move hosts
change themes
export content
hire another developer
edit code if needed
Compare that with closed platforms: “Oops, pricing changed.” “Oops, feature removed.” “Oops, account suspended.”
That’s real sovereignty.
Especially relevant for your own ecosystem — your WordPress archive works precisely because you’re not trapped inside Medium/Substack/Wix/social algorithms.
4. Imperfect but evolvable WordPress is messy.
Plugin conflicts. PHP weirdness. Legacy baggage. Occasional security headaches.
And yet…
it survives because imperfect openness often beats elegant dependency.
A polished closed system may feel smoother until you need freedom.
5. Business incentive without enclosure Interesting structural trick:
Companies make money because WordPress exists:
hosting
premium plugins
maintenance
SEO tools
design
So capitalism funds the ecosystem without owning the whole substrate.
That hybrid is unusually durable.
Why it doesn’t always generalize: WordPress works because:
giant adoption
low barrier to entry
strong backward compatibility
commercial ecosystem
lots of boring maintenance
Many open-source projects lack those conditions.
WordPress is a bit like a city.
Messy plumbing. Odd neighborhoods. Ancient streets. Weird extensions.
But people live there, build businesses there, repair it together.
That’s why it endures.
You just put a beautiful metaphor and it’s so comparative to what’s not only civilization but creation, what it’s like, and that whole thing about intervening powers from above or leaving the responsibility to the workers in the system.
Because you say, and yet it survives because imperfect openness often beats elegant dependency.
A polished closed system may feel smoother until you need freedom.
So that is the whole metaphor of creation, divine guidance, responsibility of the creation.
Ahhh, yes, I see exactly the bridge you’re making.
As metaphor — not as engineering claim — it’s a remarkably fertile one.
Because that sentence contains a developmental principle:
perfect control creates dependency
distributed imperfection creates participation
A perfectly closed system can feel heavenly: everything smooth, everything managed, errors corrected from above, users protected from complexity.
But what does that produce?
Comfortable dependency.
No agency. No stewardship. No maintenance culture. No real participation.
The moment the central provider disappears, the whole thing collapses because nobody learned how it worked.
Whereas an open, imperfect system says:
“Here. The plumbing leaks sometimes. Learn.”
And that produces a different kind of intelligence.
Not innocence. Competence.
Not worship. Participation.
Not passive safety. Shared responsibility.
That’s why your creation metaphor lands.
Because many mythic systems wrestle with exactly this tension:
total divine intervention → permanent childhood
total abandonment → chaos
partial guidance + increasing responsibility → maturation
It’s the archetypal parenthood question too.
Do you solve everything for the child?
Or create enough safety that they can gradually become a co-creator?
WordPress is funny because it embodies this:
No omnipotent god-engineer descends every hour fixing your plugin conflict 😄
Instead: community, documentation, developers, hosting providers, users learning enough to participate.
Messy civilization.
And civilization itself often works like that: roads imperfectly repaired, institutions patched, customs evolving, knowledge passed horizontally rather than handed down from a perfect center.
Creation, in your framing, becomes less like a finished luxury product…
…and more like an open-source cosmos.
Stable enough to inhabit. Loose enough to participate in. Structured enough to evolve. Unfinished enough to require us.
That last part may be the emotional hinge:
A polished closed paradise asks nothing of you.
An unfinished open world invites responsibility.
And perhaps that invitation is precisely what allows intelligence, ethics, creativity, and freedom to emerge.
Pondering a reflection by Mi Ainsel on Lord of the rings:
This is a fascinating piece because it isn’t really about Lord of the Flies at all.
It starts with Golding and morality, but it gradually transforms into a meditation on freedom, control, curiosity, disgust, identity, and the relationship between order and chaos.
A few things stood out to me.
Curiosity as an emotion
The author is absolutely right that curiosity is not merely a cognitive process.
In psychology and neuroscience, curiosity is generally understood as a motivational and emotional state.
It pulls attention toward novelty and uncertainty.
It competes directly with fear.
In a sense, many human advances emerged because curiosity won the argument against caution.
The interesting tension is that curiosity and control often move in opposite directions.
Control says:
Stay within the map.
Curiosity says:
Let’s see what’s beyond the map.
Every civilization seems to oscillate between those two impulses.
The critique of authoritarian morality
The author’s strongest point is probably not that “sin is good.”
It’s that many moral systems quietly convert preferences into absolutes.
Jonathan Haidt’s work on moral intuition is relevant here.
People often experience disgust first and justification second.
The sequence is frequently:
I dislike this.
Therefore it must be wrong.
Now I will construct reasons why.
The author is pointing at something real:
Many social taboos are defended with enormous certainty even when the actual harm is unclear.
That doesn’t mean all morality is arbitrary.
But it does mean that our moral certainty is often less rational than we imagine.
Where I think the author overreaches
The piece occasionally swings from:
“Some moral judgments are emotional.”
to”Therefore morality is mostly emotional.”
Those are different claims.
For example:
Whether pineapple belongs on pizza is preference.
Whether torture is acceptable is not merely preference.
Most ethical systems distinguish between:
Personal taste.
Social convention.
Harm.
Rights.
Responsibility.
The scat example is useful precisely because it sits in a zone where disgust and harm can be separated.
But not every moral issue sits there.
The deepest insight
For me, the most interesting sentence is not about sin or Golding.
It’s this:
“Wonder first begins to die when everything gets placed into categories.”
That feels like the hidden center of the essay.
The author is describing a process many people recognize:
Childhood:
curiosity,
surprise,
possibility.
Adulthood:
classification,
prediction,
certainty.
Categories are useful.
Without them, you couldn’t navigate reality.
But categories also become prisons.
Once you think you already know what someone is, curiosity disappears.
Once you think you already know what a religion is, what a political group is, what a gender is, what an ideology is, what a person is…
you stop looking.
The author seems less interested in defending hedonism than in defending openness.
Why it resonates with some of your own themes
As I was reading it, I kept seeing echoes of ideas you’ve returned to many times.
Not the specific conclusions, but the underlying pattern.
The author keeps attacking rigid categories and arguing that life is larger than the boxes we place around it.
You often approach a similar territory through different language:
pattern rather than category,
participation rather than control,
curiosity rather than certainty,
relationship rather than separation.
The essay’s recurring enemy is not really morality.
It is rigidity.
The fear that if we loosen our grip on certainty, everything will collapse.
The author’s answer is:
Maybe reality is not held together by control as much as we think.
Whether one agrees or disagrees with that conclusion, it is a powerful question.
And I think that is why the essay feels alive.
It isn’t merely arguing a position.
It is describing a movement from fear toward curiosity.
Almost from:
“Reality must be controlled.”
to
“Reality can be
explored.”
That shift alone changes the emotional atmosphere of the entire piece.
I think we just found ourselves an amazing addition to why imperfect freedom is preferable to rigid control
I think you’ve landed on something that extends both pieces beautifully.
The WordPress metaphor and the curiosity-versus-control reflection are actually describing the same developmental pattern from different directions.
The first asks:
What happens when support becomes too complete?
The second asks:
What happens when certainty becomes too complete?
In both cases, something important quietly atrophies.
In the WordPress piece, it is capability.
In the curiosity piece, it is wonder.
A perfectly maintained system removes the need to learn.
A perfectly categorized reality removes the need to explore.
Both feel safe.
Both can become forms of dependency.
That’s why I think your phrase:
“imperfect openness often beats elegant dependency”
may be broader than software.
It applies to psychology itself.
A child whose parent solves every problem may become less resilient.
A citizen whose authority explains everything may become less curious.
A partner who regulates every emotion may accidentally weaken the other’s capacity for self-regulation.
A religious or ideological system that answers every question may slowly extinguish the impulse to ask new ones.
Not because any of those things are evil.
But because development requires participation.
And participation requires uncertainty.
That’s the bridge between the two essays.
The authoritarian moralist described in the Lord of the Flies reflection fears that curiosity will lead to collapse.
The open-source metaphor suggests almost the opposite:
A certain amount of wobble is precisely what teaches a system how to remain standing.
Without wobble there is no balancing.
Without uncertainty there is no curiosity.
Without responsibility there is no stewardship.
Without freedom there is no maturity.
The fascinating thing is that neither piece is advocating chaos.
WordPress is not anarchy.
Good parenting is not neglect.
Healthy curiosity is not recklessness.
Open systems still have structure.
WordPress has a core.
Children have boundaries.
Civilizations have laws.
The difference is that the structure serves participation rather than replacing it.
Perhaps that is the missing middle ground that so many debates miss.
People often imagine only two possibilities:
Total control.
Total chaos.
But life seems to produce a third option:
Structured freedom.
Enough order to prevent collapse.
Enough freedom to allow growth.
Enough guidance to prevent abandonment.
Enough uncertainty to invite participation.
And that connects directly to your recurring theme about responsibility.
An unfinished world asks something of us.
A finished world merely houses us.
A polished paradise may be comfortable, but an open world invites us to become co-creators within it.
That may be why curiosity feels so alive.
Curiosity is not simply the desire for new information.
It is the willingness to step beyond the map and trust that reality can be met rather than controlled.
In that sense, curiosity is the psychological equivalent of open source.
It assumes that participation is safer for development than permanent dependence.


