One of Carl Jung’s great contributions to the field of psychology is the idea of the archetype. There is a boatload of psychology books on this subject out there if you have a lot of free time to spend deciphering psychological jargon or just happen to also have a PhD in psychology (in which case this blog post wouldn’t be useful to you anyway). Here’s the thing though: you already know what an archetype is. You just haven’t put a name to it.
Think of the characters that are in every story. There’s always a hero and a villain. They also have a supporting cast of other characters. You have the parent (metaphorically speaking – they don’t have to be someone’s actual parent), a good natured mentor who protects people (think Obi-Wan from Star Wars). Then there’s the senex: the wise man who treats his proteges like crap because that’s the only way to learn (think of the sensei in any martial arts movie). You’ve also got the Puer, the good natured, innocent child-like character (just about every role Adam Sandler plays). And there’s also the trickster: the child-like character who causes trouble (Kevin from Home Alone). These are all archetypes.
Not only do we see these characters in fiction, but we also see them in real life too. Here’s where things get interesting though. We all share these archetypes, but we put different people in each role. Your hero might be my senex. Your puer might be my villain.
The reason? We place people in the role of these archetypes based on ourselves, not other people. You might feel that a part of your personality is particularly child-like and associate it with the puer when you see it in other people. Seeing through this illusion can be difficult. However, it’s usually very liberating to see through this. While others are always looking for heroes and villains and such, you get a chance to see people as they actually are.
It’s no coincidence that each of these archetypes has a “good” and “bad” version, either. The “good” version is usually more conscious. The “bad” version usually comes from the unconscious.
Ostensibly, these programmers are both really productive. But the similarity ends there. Spolsky’s Duct Tape programmer is someone who doesn’t go with the latest fad. They’d rather just get things done than spend their time worrying about what’s fashionable. They also don’t spend too much time worrying about making their code perfect because they want to ship. Lopp’s Free Electron programmer on the other hand “defines the bleeding edge”. They can get things done, but you have to be careful. They’ll rewrite your database layer from scratch for that .1 release.
What’s most interesting is that they both refer to the same person (unless Lopp means someone else when he mentions Netscape’s Free Electron — UPDATE: apparently he did, jwz claims to not be able to ride a unicycle). Now Lopp actually worked with Zawinski so his version might be more accurate, but I suspect that both are projecting themselves onto him at some level.
In other words, these kinds of writings tell us more about the author than they tell us about what makes a programmer good. This is what we do when we talk about our Hero: emphasize its strengths while we gloss over its weaknesses. This makes sense if you realize that the Hero essentially represents our ego. Any attack to the Hero is an attack on the ego.