It’s been six months since I stood down as Chairperson of Galasa, an open-source project under the Linux Foundation. Galasa took me around the world, from Las Vegas, Orlando to Milton Keynes, and gave me the opportunity to work alongside some incredibly talented engineers. Yet six months on, the lesson that stays with me isn’t about technology. It’s about people, ownership, and what it takes for an open-source project to outlive its founders. Looking back, I spent a lot of time thinking about architecture, roadmaps, testing frameworks, and adoption metrics, trying to demonstrate that the project was healthy through numbers alone.
The hardest part was building a community.
There were a number of difficulties in running a project like Galasa – I didn’t have regular code contributions coming from another vendor, the conversation around testing z/OS applications was as advanced as it needed to be to adopt the technology, and despite my best efforts, I found it hard to bring new people into the project that wanted to take leadership roles to compliment or succeed my own. The adoption metrics were promising, I had the team pull download data, interaction data on Slack, the likes on LinkedIn. However, with any open-source project, you need the momentum of a community to continue going, you need the debate around whether to remove the Eclipse plug-in, or whether we are ready for a version 1.
I believe that open-source communities don’t succeed by a group of people agreeing on an architectural change, they are defined by people who are engaged enough to disagree.
The role was fantastic at putting me in the forefront of the customer problem. For example, when I was pulled into a conversation from a distributed developer attempting to write Galasa tests for their mobile banking app, and he had a complex Galasa set-up on his system, digging around through complex 3270 screen tests and CICS interactions. Another example, where I was called over to a table at a conference to analyze a hybrid-cloud CI/CD pipeline and how Galasa was going to be the central test framework for their z/OS Connect tests. I enjoyed encouraging new presenters at their first conference, watching external companies talk about Galasa and how they’re using it to make their day-to-day work easier. I believe that we don’t do enough testing on Mainframe applications, and as a culture, we’re incentivized towards test-driven development and shift-left testing, which is difficult when your test scripts are written in dog-eared, coffee-stained test scripts in the drawer of a colleague that you bring out only when testing something into pre-production. Additionally, I found the creation of strategy fascinating – how do you rally people around a common goal, set out what you want to achieve, and create the processes to do that. It’s the small things, like bringing development updates to YouTube to encourage wider viewing, documenting all meeting notes for future reference in GitHub, stepping back to watch others’ present when you could have easily done it yourself.
The reality of running an open-source project is tough. I spent hours looking for contributors, through the Open Mainframe Project’s Summer Mentee program, LinkedIn, talking to potential contributors online, understanding how other open-source projects succeeded, presenting at customer sites to get them interested. It needs a diverse group of companies to thrive. Looking at successful projects such as Kubernetes, it became clear that technology alone wasn’t enough. Kubernetes wasn’t successful because Google built it. It succeeded because companies such as Microsoft, Red Hat, and IBM brought different perspectives, competing priorities, and healthy tension to the project. The competing companies forked the code for their own use, spent time sending engineers to conferences, evangelising the project online. I spent time balancing the roadmap and engineering effort that the team wanted to dig into, with blogging, articles, videos, and ensuring that we weren’t just building great tech, but talking about it too.
If nobody knew we existed, then they wouldn’t consider joining us.
Ultimately, metrics can tell you that people are watching. The number of views on a blog or video, the reactions to a LinkedIn post, the number of people in a room at a conference. Metrics helped when we wanted to pull features because we knew who was using it, or how many people were downloading code or viewing the website documentation. What metrics can’t tell you, is whether people are willing to invest their time, evenings, weekends, or careers to help build something. That, is something I massively underestimated.
If I could go back, there are a few things I’d do differently.
Firstly, I’d invest earlier in creating smaller contribution opportunities. Joining an established codebase can be intimidating, and it wasn’t always easy for new contributors to find a meaningful starting point.
Secondly, I’d spend more time developing future leaders. Open-source projects need succession planning just as much as commercial organizations do. Ownership must be distributed if a project is going to survive beyond its founding team.
Finally, I’d continue pushing beyond the traditional mainframe audience. Going to DevOpsPro and the Linux Foundation conferences started that, but I didn’t do enough. Some of the most interesting conversations I had, came from developers who weren’t part of the established community but were trying to solve similar testing and automation challenges.
Looking back, I don’t regret a moment of my time with Galasa. I love working with talented engineers, travelling the world, and helping continue to shape conversations about the future of testing on the mainframe. If there’s one lesson I’ve taken away, it’s that open source is ultimately a people problem, not a technology problem. Code can be written by a handful of developers, but communities require shared ownership, healthy debate, and a constant influx of new voices. Building Galasa taught me about software, but it taught me even more about leadership, community, and what it takes to create something that can outlive its founders.