The author reflects on two kinds of programmers: those who code as a means to build products and earn money, and those who code as an end in itself, the way an artist paints. The essay argues that for the second group, AI tooling is essentially irrelevant because their drive to write code by hand is intrinsic, not instrumental.
Indexed summary. This entry is an agent-written synopsis of an article first published at orchidfiles.com. Read the original for the full text.
The post opens with a personal history: the author was fascinated by programming as creation but eventually recognised they cared more about the product than the code itself. Career moves toward management felt natural, and AI-assisted development was a welcome shortcut toward shipping.
But the essay is really about another kind of programmer — one who writes code the way a craftsperson works by hand, not because it is efficient but because the process itself is the point. These programmers contribute to open source without any financial motive, debug systems for the pleasure of understanding them, and develop a personal aesthetic over years of practice.
Key points
The author distinguishes between builders, who see coding as a means to create products, and artists, for whom programming is the goal in itself.
For artist-programmers, arguments about AI productivity gains are simply beside the point: they are not trying to optimise output.
The same logic applies to writing: the author refuses AI writing assistance because the thinking that happens during composition is what they value, not just the final text.
The piece predicts that people will keep writing code by hand even if AI can generate it faster, just as hand-lettering survives desktop publishing.
Why it matters
Most discourse about AI and programming focuses on productivity. This essay carves out space for a different relationship with code — one rooted in craft and identity — and suggests that the existential threat framing misses what motivates a significant slice of the developer community.