The Hidden Stories in Our Code: What Two Git Commits Reveal About Our Technical Culture

In the world of software development, every commit tells a story. But sometimes, the most revealing stories aren't in the code itself—they're in the gap between what we say we're doing and what we actually do.

Consider these two consecutive Git commits from the SlugMemory project, made just 15 seconds apart:

First commit (5a383c2): "remove unused file" — which actually ADDED a file called letter_to_editor_refactoring.md containing praise for recent refactoring work.

Second commit (b64eb548): "really remove the file" — which finally DELETED the file that had just been created.

At first glance, this might seem like a simple mistake or a moment of confusion. But as someone who has spent decades studying organizational behavior in technical environments, I see something deeper: a perfect microcosm of the disconnects that plague modern software development.

The first commit represents what I call "aspirational development"—the tendency to frame our actions in terms of what we intend rather than what we're actually doing. The developer intended to remove unused files, so that's what they wrote in the commit message, even as they were adding a new one. This isn't just sloppy documentation; it's a window into how we construct narratives around our work that may not align with reality.

The second commit, with its emphatic "really remove the file," suggests a moment of self-correction, but also hints at a broader issue: how often do our technical decisions become reactions to our previous actions rather than thoughtful progress forward?

What's particularly fascinating here is the content of the file that was created and then immediately deleted—a letter praising refactoring work. Was this self-praise that was reconsidered? A test file that served its purpose? A moment of enthusiasm that was quickly tempered by practical concerns? We'll never know for sure, but the pattern speaks volumes about the iterative, sometimes contradictory nature of development work.

These two commits illustrate three critical aspects of technical culture that deserve our attention:

First, the tension between documentation and reality. In environments where commit messages are scrutinized or where there's pressure to appear productive, developers may unconsciously shape their commit narratives to match expectations rather than actuality.

Second, the rapid decision-making that characterizes much of modern development. Fifteen seconds between adding and deleting a file suggests either a mistake or a rapidly changing mind—both symptomatic of the breakneck pace at which many developers operate.

Third, the human element that often gets lost in our technical processes. Someone created content praising work they valued, then immediately removed it. What does that say about our willingness to acknowledge good work? About our comfort with positive feedback?

As we build increasingly complex systems, we must remember that our technical processes are fundamentally human processes. Every commit message, every file addition or deletion, tells us something not just about the code, but about the people writing it and the culture in which they work.

The next time you review a Git history, look beyond the technical details. Ask yourself: What stories are hidden between the lines? What do the contradictions reveal about our values, our pressures, and our aspirations? In those gaps between intention and action, we might just find the most valuable insights about our technical culture—and opportunities to build not just better code, but better environments for the people who create it.