This is how I see the current developer landscape, unfiltered.
You’re welcome to challenge it, question it, or add your own take.
It’s a reflection of everything I’ve seen, read, listened to, and lived through.
When Infrastructure Was Enough
You know, there was a time when everything in tech made sense.
Big companies built the foundation, and we, developers, built on top of it.
That was the deal.
They handled the heavy stuff like the servers, databases, APIs, hosting, CI/CD, and authentication.
All the plumbing, and we handled the creativity, the ideas, the products, the things users actually touched.
GitHub was for code. AWS for infrastructure. Google Cloud for scale. Everything had its place; you could almost feel that invisible handshake between the giants and us.
They built infrastructure. We built on it.
Simple.
Balanced.
Predictable.
That was the era of platforms-as-a-service, of infrastructure-as-a-service, of tools built for builders.
And honestly, I think that was the healthiest version of the web we’ve ever had.
When OpenAI Shifted the Balance
Then came AI, and everything changed.
It didn’t start chaotic. It started beautiful.
OpenAI released their API, and it felt like a new dawn.
Anyone, anywhere, could build on top of it, chatbots, assistants, writing tools, agents.
It was magic.
It reminded me of when cloud services first dropped, that same excitement, that same “finally, we can build anything” energy.
Developers everywhere plugged in, experimented, and created things that didn’t exist a week ago.
That was some new and raw innovation, fast and endless.
But slowly, something started to feel off.
Because what we thought was infrastructure… wasn’t just infrastructure anymore. OpenAI wasn’t just providing access, they were watching what people built. And over time, they started pulling the best ideas back into their own product.
That’s when I and many others, realized something was different. They didn’t just want to be the layer we build on, they wanted to be the layer and the product.
The Quiet Absorption
Think about it.
Before ChatGPT had “code interpreter,” there were dozens of startups doing that exact thing,“talk to your code,” “analyze your data,” “chat with your PDF.”
Even before DALL·E had prominence, there was Midjourney. Before GPTs (the small AI apps), there were hundreds of mini-tools powered by GPT itself.
OpenAI just watched, learned, and absorbed.
And the funny thing is, it is a smart strategy. I mean, give access to developers all over the world, and see what they can do your tool, and just absorp it into your product. While it is smart, it’s the silent killing of innovation.
I mean, if you build something good enough on top of their platform, they will eventually build it inside their platform.
And you can’t even be mad, because it’s not “stealing.” It’s “evolution.”
But if you’re a founder or a developer who left everything to chase an idea built on their ecosystem…
that evolution can feel like extinction.
The Developer’s Dilemma
So now, if you take a risk, quit your job, drop out of school, or just pour your life into an AI-based startup, you’re living on borrowed time.
Because if your product succeeds, it’s not just your users who notice, theynotice.
And by “they,” I mean Big Tech.
They own the infrastructure.
They own themodel.
They own thedata.
And with that, they can rebuild your product faster, better, and more efficiently, because they have what you don’t: scale and access.
OpenAI isn’t the only one doing this.
Google’s shifting too.
AWS wants its own AI layer.
Even small cloud providers are following suit.
The “infrastructure era” is quietly ending, replaced by an “absorption era.”
But here’s the part most people don’t see: Big Tech is refactoring itself.
They’ve realized the same thing we have, that speed is everything now.
Back then, one of the biggest differences between startups and Big Tech was decision speed*.*
Startups could pivot overnight, test new ideas, and ship features faster than a big company could even schedule its first approval meeting.
Big Tech, on the other hand, had layers of management, endless review cycles, and slow approval processes that stretched from department to department.
But that gap is closing fast.
Today, these companies are restructuring from the inside out. They’re flattening hierarchies, removing unnecessary approval layers, and decentralizing decision-making so that product teams can move almost like startups.
It’s a complete organizational refactor.
They know they’re not just competing with each other anymore; they’re competing with solo developers, indie hackers, and small startups.
And they’re adapting.
They’ve adopted a startup mindset internally. If an idea aligns with the company’s broader goal, it gets approved almost immediately. No long chains of review. No endless waiting.
And remember, they already have what you don’t,
massiveengineering teams, near-limitless compute, and internal AI models that are more powerful than anything publicly available.
Now combine that with startup-level agility, and you get something terrifying: a machine that can outbuild anyone, absorb anything, and outpace everyone.
That’s the new reality of Big Tech.
They’re not justgiants anymore.
They’regiants who move like startups.
And that’s why this “absorption era” isn’t slowing down anytime soon.
The Web Is Collapsing, Not Dying, But Folding In
I call it the collapse of the web.
Not because the web is dying, but because it’s folding in on itself.
There’s too much of everything.
Too many tools, too many frameworks, too many component libraries, too many clones.
It’s like standing in a room full of echoes, every new thing sounds like something you’ve heard before.
UI component libraries? There are hundreds.
Half of them are just forks of shadcn/ui, same patterns, same components, same look.
Some people don’t even fork since it traces back to them, so they download, tweak the animations or add it, rename the repository, and ship it as their own.
We developers, never cared about copy and paste, because we do not mind showing credits to the original developers, or sometimes we don’t really know or care who the original was and sometimes we don’t even know.
But to claim something someone built as your own, and give no credit to them, that’s a new high.
Frameworks? I’ve seen five new ones this year alone, all promising to “redefine development.”
All or most are built using AI, or assisted by it.
We used to have developers and coders.
I used to see developers fight or argue on which language or framework was the best, but i guess that’s over now.
Now we have “builders,” “vibe coders,” and AI-assisted creators who can spin up a framework in a weekend.
That’s the new speed of the web, and it’s unsustainable.
At this pace, saturation becomes noise.
And when everything starts to look and sound the same, innovation loses its meaning.
That’s the collapse.
When Every Platform Becomes Every Other Platform
Even outside AI, look around.
Everything online is starting to blend together.
YouTube has posts and comments like Twitter.
Twitter has videos and live streaming like YouTube.
Instagram has Reels like TikTok.
Facebook has stories like Snapchat.
It’s not just social media. The blending goes far beyond that.
Take X (formerly Twitter). It now has live video streaming, something that used to be YouTube’s territory.
And soon, it’s getting a full chat interface like WhatsApp (In beta).
Meanwhile, WhatsApp is rolling out e-commerce features on its Business side, turning into something closer to Shopify.
Everything is crossing into everything else.
Even in the creative and development world, look at Figma and Webflow.
Originally, Webflow was built for designers who couldn’t code. You’d drag, drop, and export HTML or JavaScript for developers.
But now, with AI plugins and built-in code generation in Figma, the line between design and development tools is blurring fast.
You can literally prompt Figma to write code. I mean…
Think about that.
Figma was supposed to be a design tool, yet it’s becoming a generator.
And this isn’t stopping here.
Every new update, every new integration, adds features that used to belong somewhere else.
Canva generates websites.
Notion generates entire workflows.
Framer generates landing pages.
And soon, they’ll all overlap until you can’t tell one from another.
Every platform is becoming every other platform.
Every tool is a generator.
Every app is an ecosystem.
And in that race to be everything, difference disappears.
We’re left not with choice, but confusion, I mean…, what tools do you want to use? or can you use? Do you even have the time to spend learning another tool, just so it can be automated by AI?
The Cost of Infinite Choice
In the web developer space, choice used to be power.
Now it’s paralysis.
Do you know how many libraries, design systems, or frameworks I’ve seen that do the exact same thing but just look slightly different?
Everyone’s chasing the same “better UI,” the same “better DX,” the same “faster startup.”But we’ve reached a point where improvement is barely noticeable.
We’ve optimized ourselves into sameness.
Users are overwhelmed by the endless tools and platforms available, while developers struggle to build something truly different, because anything new can quickly become just another feature in someone else’s product.
And I know what you’re thinking? This isn’t something new.
Which you are correct.
What’s new is how fastit all moves.
You can spend weeks building something, and by the time you’re done, it’s already a feature in someone else’s tool.
That’s the quiet cost no one talks about.
What This Means for Developers
If you’re a developer today, you’re standing at a crossroads.
Between creativity and collapse. Between innovation and imitation.
You can build faster than ever, but also be replaced faster than ever.
You can create something new, but if it gains traction, a bigger player can clone it overnight.
AI has leveled the playing field, yes, but it has also changed who owns the field.
And that’s what scares me most.
Because we’ve built this new world on foundations that aren’t ours.
And when the owners of that foundation start playing the same game we are, it’s not competition anymore, it’s a capture.
Where We Go From Here
I’m not saying it’s hopeless.
There’s still room for originality, for people who build because they love building.
But we have to understand the new reality.
Big tech doesn’t want to stay at the infrastructure level anymore.
They want to own the product layer too.
So maybe the next generation of developers won’t just be builders.
Maybe they’ll be independent ecosystems, creators who own their data, their models, their value chain.
Until then, I think we’re going to keep seeing this collapse, this folding in where every platform looks like every other one, and every tool starts to blur into noise.
The web isn’t dying.
It’s just losing its edges.
And maybe that’s the biggest shift of all.
Not the death of innovation, but the death of difference.
So What Should Developers Focus On Now?
I mean, if you ask me what developers should focus on right now, I honestly don’t know. Even as a developer myself, I don’t know. Okay? I don’t.
People will tell you all sorts of things, and honestly, that’s the funny part. There are people who see the same shift happening, but they don’t actually know what to do either. Instead of admitting to confusion, they package it as “advice.”
First, it was “developers who use AI will take your job.”
(lol.. you don’t even have the job yet).
Now it’s flipped into “don’t give up, these AI models will fail someday, and that’s when you’ll be needed.”
That’s complete BS.
Why?
Because think about it.
This technology is barely a toddler, and people have lost their job because of it, and even as I write this, it’s been embedded into systems that you and I or some of us rely on daily to get something done.
It’s still learning to walk, and people are telling you to wait for it to make a mistake so you can be useful again.
That’s like someone saying,“wait for a toddler to fall so you can prove you can walk better”.
But this isn’t a normal toddler,
it learns with every step,
it doesn’t forget its mistakes,
and the next time it walks,
it runs smoother.
Waiting for that fall is like waiting for rain in a drought; you can hope for it, but it may never come.
It’s the same way founders are told to “create a solution for a real problem, not an ideal problem.” But what if the problem itself keeps changing shape? What if every ideal solution becomes irrelevant the moment you build it?
That’s the world developers are in right now.
And it’s also how some YouTubers operate; they package confusion as guidance. “Don’t give up,” they’ll tell you. “Keep programming, keep learning, keep pushing.” Then, at the end, they drop their course link.
And it’s not like they’re wrong,
programming will still matter,
knowing how something is built or work will always benefit you.
But the reason most people are learning programming today isn’t for the fun of it.
It’s survival.
It’s money.
And many of the people giving advice aren’t even programming as much as they’re editing their next video.
What most don’t realize is that these tutorials,
these projects, they’re not being built by one person.
They’re teams of two, five, six, sometimes more.
Once the product is complete,
then the tutorial drops,
like it was a solo effort all along.
But at the end of the day, their real audience isn’t learners, it’s developers.
Developers who are already lost and looking for direction.
And that’s where I pause.
Because if I’m being honest,
I can’t give any advice either.
If I tell you, “focus on domain expertise,” I’m not even sure what that means anymore.
If I say, “work on regulatory tech or physical-world integrations,” that sounds logical, but what does that even mean in this context?
If I tell you to find small, untouched markets that big tech ignores, okay… but what happens when that “small” market suddenly looks big enough for them to notice? You’re done.
This isn’t paranoia,
it’s the structure of the new web.
We’ve moved into an era where ideas are the new code.
You don’t even have to write code anymore; you just describe your idea in detail, and an AI can build it for you.
That’s not a theory, it’s already happening. So now, “idea theft” doesn’t even look like theft. It looks like automation.
That’s why there aren’t a lot of people building in public.
Not because they’re scared of failure, but because they know they’re being watched.
But if you’re an indie developer, not building in public will hurt you more. You don’t have investor funding, you don’t have ad budgets, you don’t have a marketing team. The only thing you have is visibility, people knowing what you’re building.
If you hide your idea because you’re scared someone might copy it, you also hide it from the people who might use it, support it, or share it. And when launch day comes, nobody’s there.
I’ve lived that.
Funded startups can afford to build in silence; they have money for production, ads, and polished launches. But indie devs don’t.
Visibility is your runway. If you’re building alone, you don’t really have a choice but to build in public.
Big tech isn’t blind to what’s trending. They see it, they track it, they replicate it. If your product hits 500K users, do you really think none of those users overlap with any of their products?
It’s strategic.
It’s simple.
Let’s say a user spends five hours a day on a platform, eg, ChatGPT, then they find your tool or product, and they start spending three hours there instead.
What do you think happens next? The platform doesn’t panic. It just builds your feature directly into their product, reclaims those three hours, and cuts your growth in half. Done. And you can’t fight that.
So yeah, I can’t give advice on what developers should focus on. Because if it’s digital, if it’s software-based, we’re all in the same boat.
Some people think they’re safe because it hasn’t reached their corner yet, but it will.
Three years?…
Five years?…
Maybe ten?
And when it hits, it won’t wipe your skill; it’ll damage it. Slowly. Quietly.
That’s why my only advice is this: If you’re building something, anything really, don’t think long-term.
Don’t get too attached to your digital plan.
When you start making real money, move it offline.
Turn it into something physical, something that exists beyond screens and models.
Because have you seen what’s coming? Robots that can jump, flip, lift, balance, and run.
They fall and get up on their own.
They already exist, and they’re being sold.
So, how long before one can fix your lights or handle your logistics?
Ten years?
Fifteen?
By then, you’ll be 40.
Maybe 30 and laid off.
Maybe 50 and replaced by something that doesn’t get tired or need a paycheck.
That’s not science fiction, that’s trajectory, and it is already happening.
So if you’re listening, my advice isn’t motivational, it’s practical.
Find a small field that AI won’t ruin for a few months.
Make your money. Save it. Then build something real, something outside the loop.
Because what’s coming isn’t waiting for us to adapt.
Conclusion
Maybe I’m wrong.
Maybe I’m just being short-sighted.
Looking at all this from the inside and not seeing the full picture.
I know there are still developers out there building real products and making real money.
Or even getting hired.
I see them.
Things are still moving, faster than ever, in directions none of us can fully predict.
I’m not standing outside of it.
I’m in it too. I’ve been building uhpenry.com for a very long time, and even though I wrote all this, I’m still in a drought area waiting for rain to fall. And as much as I hope for it, I know it might never rain.
Maybe that’s the contradiction every human (developer) lives with now, knowing how fragile things are, yet still showing up to build or work anyway.