Why an Enchiridion on Software Development?
Part of a "Software Engineering Enchiridion"
(Figure: One of Victor Hugo’s writing desks (Maison de Victor Hugo, Paris))
There's a lot of cruft out there. Arguments in echo chambers. Pro and anti false dichotomies; energy being expended on everything from funky AI to soul-crushing “agile” frameworks. This sequence of articles, this handbook, this enchiridion, which will be published here first, is a response I've been working on for 5 years, arguably a LOT longer.
For 5+ years I've been working on a Handbook, an Enchiridion, for different aspects of software development. Something I could bring together as part of my Antifragile Software book to really bring that project to fruition.
5 years ago my life completely changed. I did the work, I survived a nasty time with cancer, and I came out of it a very different person with a different perspective on what actually mattered to me. With that clarity I could begin to compile my enchiridion—a handbook of maxims on software development topics that matter to me.
In this article I explain why I've settled on and adopted this format. In a nutshell, it offers a set of thinking tools, thinking daggers, that help me to sort what matters from what doesn't in our crazy software development industry.
A Handbook that is a Dagger...
The Greeks didn’t screw around with titles. When Epictetus wrote his Enchiridion, the word didn’t just mean “handbook.” It meant a dagger you carried at your side. It's subtitle was literally:
"ENCHIRIDION, HOC EST PVGLIO: SIVE, ARS HUMANAE VITAE CORRECTRIX"
"A Handbook that is A Dagger: Or, a corrector of the skills of human life"
—Epictetus, via Appianus
A dagger. A thing you reached for in the alley at night. A tool you used when things got real.
This isn’t just another shelf-decoration of “principles” you’ll nod at during onboarding and forget the next morning. This is meant to be carried close. To be sharp. To be pulled out when the pressure hits and your brain starts looking for the exit.
Software is built under pressure. Pressure from deadlines. From outages. From managers breathing down your neck, from regulators breathing down theirs, and from systems that creak and groan under the weight of ten years of shortcuts.
When the walls are closing in, what saves you isn’t the fantasy of “move fast and break things.” What saves you are the habits you’ve drilled. The small moves you’ve practiced until they’re instinct. The maxims that act as your dagger.
My enchiridion is just that.
Who is this Enchiridion for?
My enchiridion is for three types of people:
First, the builders. The individual contributors who write the code, fix the bugs, ship the features. Whether you’re fresh out of school or you’ve got “staff engineer” on your LinkedIn, you’re the one with your hands on the keyboard when the system is either saved or sunk.
Second, the guides. Tech leads and engineering managers who coach teams through chaos. You’re asked to be both priest and general: to care for your people while also delivering under impossible constraints. You don’t need another glossy leadership book; you need a blade you can actually use.
Third, the keepers of the infrastructure. Platform engineers, SREs, and DevEx folks who keep the lights on in environments so regulated and complex that most Silicon Valley startups would wet themselves at the compliance checklist. You are the ones holding together the cathedral of modern software while politicians and auditors bang on the doors.
The outcomes we’re after are simple, though not easy. Better decisions under pressure. Consistent engineering habits, so we don’t reinvent disaster every sprint. A shared language for teams, so when someone says “tidy first” or “make reality your spec,” you all know exactly what to do next.
Each maxim in the handbook will follow a rhythm. First, the aphorism—a short blade of truth you can remember at 3 a.m. during an outage. Then, the rationale—why it matters, why it works, why ignoring it will leave you bleeding. Next, the practices—the small, concrete moves you can make right now. After that, the pitfalls—because every maxim, misapplied, turns into dogma or bullshit. Then the checklists—quick ways to test whether you’re actually living the lesson. Finally, examples and further reading—because no one ever mastered the craft by quotes alone.
This isn’t a cargo cult of “best practices.” It’s not a silver bullet. It’s a field manual.
Think of it like this: aphorism is the dagger. Rationale is why you sharpen it. Practices are how you carry it. Pitfalls are how you avoid stabbing yourself in the leg. Checklists are how you know it’s still sharp. Examples and readings are the stories around the campfire that remind you why you bother carrying it at all.
This isn’t a cargo cult of “best practices.” It’s not a silver bullet. It’s a field manual. Each maxim is designed to be small enough to memorise and strong enough to hold under fire. Read it. Carry it. Use it. That's what I do.
The Potential and Promise
And here’s the promise: if you take it seriously, if you practice, you’ll start making better calls under pressure. You and your teams will stop wasting cycles arguing about the obvious. Your work will have fewer “WTF” moments six months later. And, little by little, you’ll find that you’ve built something stronger than code. You’ll have built a discipline.
A handbook. A dagger. Yours, to keep sharp.
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