The Values of the Web

I’ve been building for the Web for nearly two decades. I’m a full stack developer with a PHP background, and while the tools and frameworks have evolved drastically — from raw HTML and procedural PHP to modern APIs, frameworks, and CI/CD pipelines — one thing has stayed remarkably consistent: the Web is a space shaped by people who give a damn.

These days, when people say “tech,” they’re often referring to the high-gloss, VC-fueled version of it. Startups chasing hockey-stick growth, IPO headlines, toxic cultures, and people who seem more concerned with personal branding than with building useful things. My feeds are filled with stories of burnout, exclusion, performative ethics, and the next billion-dollar valuation. But that’s not where I live.

This Isn’t Just a Job. It’s a Community.

I work on the Web — not just with code, but with people. And over the years, I’ve learned that what matters most isn’t the framework you choose or the language you love — it’s the community you build with and for.

I’ve had complete strangers review my open-source contributions, suggest improvements to my logic, spot edge cases I missed, or simply say, “Hey, thanks — this helped.” I’ve also done the same for others. It’s a rhythm of mutual respect and contribution that I’ve seen time and time again.

In this space, people freely share their code, their tools, and their insights — not because they’re chasing clout, but because they care. Because they want to make something better, not just ship something faster. Whether it’s a solo dev maintaining a useful package on GitHub, or someone writing a blog post to document a hard-won lesson — these acts of generosity are the backbone of the Web.

And honestly? I don’t care what someone looks like, where they come from, or what their stack is. If they’ve helped me — by sharing an idea, a bugfix, or even a perspective I hadn’t considered — they’ve made my work better, and I’m grateful.

Why the Web Still Matters

What I’ve always admired about the Web is how inherently collaborative it is. Unlike siloed enterprise tech environments, Web development — especially open-source Web development — depends on cross-border, cross-discipline teamwork. You have to work with designers, accessibility advocates, frontenders, backenders, content creators, testers, and yes — even users.

It’s a beautiful kind of chaos. We argue, we disagree, we rewrite each other’s code. But in the end, we move forward — and the Web gets a little bit better for everyone.

I won’t pretend everything’s perfect. I’ve seen gatekeeping, ego, exclusion. I’ve seen brilliant people pushed out or burned out. But even with those flaws, I still believe this community gets more right than wrong. The people who truly build the Web — not just the products but the standards, the protocols, the open tools — understand the value of sharing, of teaching, of doing the work in the open.

That’s not just idealism. That’s a survival mechanism. You can’t build something as sprawling and complex as the modern Web without trust, feedback, and collaboration.

Still an Optimist After All These Years

After nearly 20 years, I’m still here. Still building. Still learning. Still sharing.

Some people call that naive. I call it purpose. I believe in the Web — not just as a platform, but as a shared human effort. I believe in writing code that solves real problems. I believe in making things accessible, not just beautiful. And I believe in communities that lift each other up rather than compete to tear each other down.

As the broader tech industry wrestles with its identity, I’m glad to know the Web still holds space for people who care — who teach, share, and collaborate because it’s the right thing to do.

The values that built the Web — openness, transparency, empathy, curiosity — still matter. Maybe more than ever.

And as long as they do, I’ll keep building here.