Tags: tooling

Escape Velocity: Break Free from Framework Gravity — Den Odell

React is no longer just a library. It’s a full ecosystem that defines how frontend developers are allowed to think.

Real talk!

Browsers now ship View Transitions, Container Queries, and smarter scheduling primitives. The platform keeps evolving at a fair pace, but most teams won’t touch these capabilities until React officially wraps them in a hook or they show up in Next.js docs.

Innovation keeps happening right across the ecosystem, but for many it only becomes “real” once React validates the approach. Which is fine, assuming you enjoy waiting for permission to use the platform you’re already building on.

Zing!

The critique isn’t that React is bad, but that treating any single framework as infrastructure creates blind spots in how we think and build. When React becomes the lens through which we see the web, we stop noticing what the platform itself can already do, and we stop reaching for native solutions because we’re waiting for the framework-approved version to show up first.

If your team’s evolution depends on a single framework’s roadmap, you are not steering your product; you are waiting for permission to move.

This isn’t a rhetorical question. I genuinely want to know why developers choose to build websites using React.

There are many possible reasons. Alas, none of them relate directly to user experience, other than a trickle-down justification: happy productive developers will make better websites. Citation needed.

It’s also worth mentioning that some people don’t choose to use React, but its use is mandated by their workplace (like some other more recent technologies I could mention). By my definition, this makes React enterprise software in this situation. My definition of enterprise software is any software that you use but that you yourself didn’t choose.

Inertia

By far the most common reason for choosing React today is inertia. If it’s what you’re comfortable with, you’d need a really compelling reason not to use it. That’s generally the reason behind usage mandates too. If we “standardise” on React, then it’ll make hiring more straightforward (though the reality isn’t quite so simple, as the React ecosystem has mutated and bifurcated over time).

And you know what? Inertia is a perfectly valid reason to choose a technology. If time is of the essence, and you know it’s going to take you time to learn a new technology, it makes sense to stick with what you know, even if it’s out of date. This isn’t just true of React, it’s true of any tech stack.

This would all be absolutely fine if React weren’t a framework that gets executed in browsers. Any client-side framework is a tax on the end user. They have to download, parse, and execute the framework in order for you to benefit.

But maybe React doesn’t need to run in the browser at all. That’s the promise of server-side rendering.

The front end

There used to be a fairly clear distinction between front-end development and back-end development. The front end consisted of HTML, CSS, and client-side JavaScript. The back end was anything you wanted as long as it could spit out those bits of the front end: PHP, Ruby, Python, or even just a plain web server with static files.

Then it became possible to write JavaScript on the back end. Great! Now you didn’t need to context-switch when you were scripting for the client or the server. But this blessing also turned out to be a bit of a curse.

When you’re writing code for the back end, some things matter more than others. File size, for example, isn’t really a concern. Your code can get really long and it probably won’t slow down the execution. And if it does, you can always buy your way out of the problem by getting a more powerful server.

On the front end, your code should have different priorities. File size matters, especially with JavaScript. The code won’t be executed on your server. It’s executed on all sorts of devices on all sorts of networks running all sorts of browsers. If things get slow, you can’t buy your way out of the problem because you can’t buy every single one of your users a new device and a new network plan.

Now that JavaScript can run on the server as well as the client, it’s tempting to just treat the code the same. It’s the same language after all. But the context really matters. Some JavaScript that’s perfectly fine to run on the server can be a resource hog on the client.

And this is where it gets interesting with React. Because most of the things people like about React still apply on the back end.

React developers

When React first appeared, it was touted as front-end tool. State management and a near-magical virtual DOM were the main selling points.

Over time, that’s changed. The claimed speed benefits of the virtual DOM turned out to be just plain false. That just left state management.

But by that time, the selling points had changed. The component-based architecture turned out to be really popular. Developers liked JSX. A lot. Once you got used to it, it was a neat way to encapsulate little bits of functionality into building blocks that can be combined in all sorts of ways.

For the longest time, I didn’t realise this had happened. I was still thinking of React as being a framework like jQuery. But React is a framework like Rails or Django. As a developer, it’s where you do all your work. Heck, it’s pretty much your identity.

But whereas Rails or Django run on the back end, React runs on the front end …except when it doesn’t.

JavaScript can run on the server, which means React can run on the server. It’s entirely possible to have your React cake and eat it. You can write all of your code in React without serving up a single line of React to your users.

That’s true in theory. The devil is in the tooling.

Priorities

Next.js allows you to write in React and do server-side rendering. But it really, really wants to output React to the client as well.

By default, you get the dreaded hydration pattern—do all the computing on the server in JavaScript (yay!), serve up HTML straight away (yay! yay!) …and then serve up all the same JavaScript that’s on the server anyway (ya—wait, what?).

It’s possible to get Next.js to skip that last step, but it’s not easy. You’ll be battling it every step of the way.

Astro takes a very different approach. It will do everything it can to keep the client-side JavaScript to a minimum. Developers get to keep their beloved JSX authoring environment without penalising users.

Alas, the collective inertia of the “modern” development community is bound up in the React/Next/Vercel ecosystem. That’s a shame, because Astro shows us that it doesn’t have to be this way.

Switching away from using React on the front end doesn’t mean you have to switch away from using React on the back end.

Why use React?

The titular question I asked is too broad and naïve. There are plenty of reasons to use React, just as there are plenty of reasons to use Wordpress, Eleventy, or any other technology that works on the back end. If it’s what you like or what you’re comfortable with, that’s reason enough.

All I really care about is the front end. I’m not going to pass judgment on anyone’s choice of server-side framework, as long as it doesn’t impact what you can do in the client. Like Harry says:

…if you’re going to use one, I shouldn’t be able to smell it.

Here’s the question I should be asking:

Why use React in the browser?

Because if the reason you’re using React is cultural—the whole team works in JSX, it makes hiring easier—then there’s probably no need to make your users download React.

If you’re making a single-page app, then …well, the first thing you should do is ask yourself if it really needs to be a single-page app. They should be the exception, not the default. But if you’re determined to make a single-page app, then I can see why state management becomes very important.

In that situation, try shipping Preact instead of React. As a developer, you’ll almost certainly notice no difference, but your users will appreciate the refreshing lack of bloat.

Mostly though, I’d encourage you to investigate what you can do with vanilla JavaScript in the browser. I totally get why you’d want to hold on to React as an authoring environment, but don’t let your framework limit what you can do on the front end. If you use React on the client, you’re not doing your users any favours.

You can continue to write in React. You can continue to use JSX. You can continue to hire React developers. But keep it on your machine. For your users, make the most of what web browsers can do.

Once you keep React on the server, then a whole world of possibilities opens up on the client. Web browsers have become incredibly powerful in what they offer you. Don’t let React-on-the-client hold you back.

And if you want to know more about what web browsers are capable of today, come to Web Day Out in Brighton on Thursday, 12th March 2026.

How do build tools break backwards compatibility? | Go Make Things

If you have a project that uses just plain HTML, CSS, and JavaScript, you can just open up the files and start working on them at any time. A project from 20 years ago will still work just fine, and can be easily modified.

Projects that use build tools? Well… to work with them, you need your build tools to actually build. And that’s not always guaranteed.

Also, it me:

One of my least favorite things as a developer is wanting to do a quick patch fix on an older project—I’m talking a simple one-line of CSS kind of fix—but first having to spend 30 minutes patching my build tools to get them running again.

I’ve always associated good design with thoughtfulness. Like, I should be able to point to any element in an interface and the designer should be able to tell me the reasons it’s there. Those reasons may be rooted in user needs or asthetics or some other consideration, but the point is that there’s a justification for it. Justify every pixel!

But I’ve come to realise that this is a bit reductionist. Now when I point at an interface element, I still expect the designer to be able to justify its inclusion, but I’d also like to know the trade-offs that were made.

Suppose there’s a large hero image. I’m sure the designer would have no problem justifying its inclusion on the basis of impact and the emotional heft it delivers. But did they also understand the potential downsides? Were they aware of the performance implications of including a large image?

I hope the answer to both questions is yes. They understood the costs, but they decided that, on balance, the positives outweighed the negatives.

When it comes to the positives, universal principles of design often apply. Colour theory, typography, proximity, and so on. But the downsides tend to be specific to the medium that the design is delivered in.

Let’s say you’re designing for print. You want to include an extra typeface just for footnotes. No problem. There isn’t really a downside. In print, you can use all the typefaces you want. But if this were for the web, then the calculation would be different. Every extra typeface comes with a performance penalty. A decision that might be justified in one medium might not work in another medium.

It works both ways; on the web you can use all the colours you want, without incurring any penalties, but in print—depending on the process you’re using—you might have to weigh up that decision very differently.

From this perspective, every design decision is like a balance sheet. A good web designer understands the benefits and the costs behind each decision they make.

It’s a similar story when it comes to web development. Heck, we even have the term “tech debt” to describe decisions that we know aren’t for the best in the long term.

In fact, I’d say that consideration of the long-term effects is something that should play a bigger part in technical decisions.

When we’re weighing up the pros and cons of using a particular tool, we have a tendency to think in the here and now. How might this help me right now? How might this hinder me right now?

But often a decision that delivers short-term gain may well end up delivering long-term pain.

Alexander Petros describes this succinctly:

Reopen a node repository after 3 months and you’ll find that your project is mired in a flurry of security warnings, backwards-incompatible library “upgrades,” and a frontend framework whose cultural peak was the exact moment you started the project and is now widely considered tech debt.

When I wrote about making the Patterns Day website I described my process as doing it “the long hard stupid way”—a term that Frank coined in a talk he gave a few years back. But perhaps my hands-on approach is only long, hard and stupid in the short time. With each passing year, the codebase will retain a degree of readability and accessibility that I would’ve sacrificed had I depended on automated build processes.

Robin Berjon puts this into the historical perspective of Taylorism and Luddism:

Whenever something is automated, you lose some control over it. Sometimes that loss of control improves your life because exerting control is work, and sometimes it worsens your life because it reduces your autonomy.

Or as Marshall McLuhan put it:

Every extension is also an amputation.

…which is fine as long as the benefits of the extension outweigh the costs of the amputation. My worry is that, when it comes to evaluating technology for building on the web, we aren’t considering the longer-term costs.

Maintenance matters. With the passing of time, maintenance matters more and more.

Maybe we avoid thinking about the long-term costs because it would lead to decision paralysis. That’s understandable. But I take comfort from some words of wisdom on the web from the 1990s. Tim Berners-Lee’s style guide for hypertext:

Because hypertext is potentially unconstrained you are a little daunted. Do not be. You can write a document as simply as you like. In many ways, the simpler the better.

Tailwind, and the death of web craftsmanship

CSS is better now. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than its ever been, and it’s better than tailwind. Give it another try. Don’t reach for big globs of libraries to paper over the issues you think it has.

This is why it’s so important to re-evaluate technology decisions.

I’ve seen people, lead and principal engineers, who refuse to learn modern JS, insisting that since it was bad in 2006 its bad today. Worse still is some of these people have used their leadership positions to prevent the use of modern JS.

CSS { In Real Life } | Cool Tools

I knew of most of these front-end development tools (like Utopia, obviously), but some were new to me.

The New CSS · Matthias Ott – User Experience Designer

CSS is now the most powerful design tool for the Web.

I think this is now true. It’ll be interesting to see how this will affect tools and processes:

What I expect to see overall is that the perception and thus the role of CSS in the design process will change from being mainly a presentational styling tool at the end of the waterfall to a tool that is being used at the heart of making design decisions early on.

Writing Javascript without a build system

For me, a complicated Javascript build system just doesn’t seem worth it for small 500-line projects – it means giving up being able to easily update the project in the future in exchange for some pretty marginal benefits.

This! Also, this:

I’m writing this because most of the writing I see about JS assumes that you’re using a build system, and it can be hard to navigate for folks like me who write very simple small Javascript projects that don’t require a build system.

I shared this link in Slack with my co-workers today:

Cultivating depth and stillness in research by Andy Matuschak.

I wasn’t sure whether it belonged in the #research or the #design channel. While it’s ostensibly about research, I think it applies to design more broadly. Heck, it probably applies to most fields. I should have put it in the Slack channel I created called #iiiiinteresting.

The article is all about that feeling of frustration when things aren’t progressing quickly, even when you know intellectually that not everything should always progress quickly.

The article is filled with advice for battling this feeling, including this observation on curiosity:

Curiosity can also totally change my relationship to setbacks. Say I’ve run an experiment, collected the data, done the analysis, and now I’m writing an essay about what I’ve found. Except, halfway through, I notice that one column of the data really doesn’t support the conclusion I’d drawn. Oops. It’s tempting to treat this development as a frustrating impediment—something to be overcome expediently. Of course, that’s exactly the wrong approach, both emotionally and epistemically. Everything becomes much better when I react from curiosity instead: “Oh, wait, wow! Fascinating! What is happening here? What can this teach me? How might this change what I try next?”

But what really resonated with me was this footnote attached to that paragraph:

I notice that I really struggle to generate curiosity about problems in programming. Maybe it’s because I’ve been doing it so long, but I think it’s because my problems are usually with ephemeral ideas, incidental to what I actually care about. When I’m fighting some godforsaken Javascript build system, I don’t feel even slightly curious to “really” understand those parochial machinations. I know they’re just going to be replaced by some new tool next year.

I feel seen.

I know I’m not alone. I know people who were driven out of front-end development because they felt the unspoken ultimatum was to either become a “full stack” developer or see yourself out.

Remember Chris’s excellent post, The Great Divide? Zach referenced it recently. He wrote:

The question I keep asking though: is the divide borne from a healthy specialization of skills or a symptom of unnecessary tooling complexity?

Mostly I feel sad about the talented people we’ve lost because they felt their front-of-the-front-end work wasn’t valued.

But wait! Can I turn my frown upside down? Can I take Andy Matuschak’s advice and say, “Oh, wait, wow! Fascinating! What is happening here? What can this teach me?”

Here’s one way of squinting at the situation…

There’s an opportunity here. If many people—myself included—feel disheartened and ground down by the amount of time they need to spend dealing with toolchains and build systems, what kind of system would allow us to get on with making websites without having to deal with that stuff?

I’m not proposing that we get rid of these complex toolchains, but I am wondering if there’s a way to make it someone else’s job.

I guess this job is DevOps. In theory it’s a specialised field. In practice everyone adding anything to a codebase partakes in continual partial DevOps because they must understand the toolchains and build processes in order to change one line of HTML.

I’m not saying “Don’t Make Me Think” when it comes to the tooling. I totally get that some working knowledge is probably required. But the ratio has gotten out of whack. You need a lot of working knowledge of the toolchains and build processes.

In fact, that’s mostly what companies hire for these days. If you’re well versed in HTML, CSS, and vanilla JavaScript, but you’re not up to speed on pipelines and frameworks, you’re going to have a hard time.

That doesn’t seem right. We should change it.

CSS { In Real Life } | Disentangling Frameworks

I just quoted Chris saying:

I think some tools are a good idea. But as few as possible, and the easier they are to stop using, the better.

Now Michelle asks:

Suppose we want to stop using Tailwind one day?

Turns out it’s a bit of a roach motel, much like most JavaScript frameworks: you can get in but you can’t easily get out.

So whenever possible, the safest, and most future-proof bet is to use the native features of the web platform.

Scalable CSS - Chris Coyier

Wise words:

Myself, I think some tools are a good idea. But as few as possible, and the easier they are to stop using, the better.

To paraphrase Michael Pollan:

Write CSS, not too much, mostly vanilla.

When Our Tools Hold Us Back | OddBird

What happens if the ‘pace layers’ get out of sync?

A very thoughtful post by Miriam on how tools can adversely affect the pace of progress in the world of web standards.

When tools intervene between you and your access to the web platform, proceed with caution. Ask not only: How well does it work? But also: How well does it fail? Not only: What features do they provide? But also: What features do they prevent?

Progressively Enhanced Builds - Jim Nielsen’s Blog

Rather than thinking, “how do I combine a bunch of disparate content, templates, and tooling into a functioning website?”, you might think “how do I start at a functioning website with content and then use templates and build tooling to enhance it?”

I think Jim is onto something here. The more dependencies you have in your build process, the likelier it is that over time one of them will become a single point of failure. A progressive enhancement approach to build tools means you’d still be able to launch your site (even if it’s not in its ideal state).

I want to be able to view, edit, and if need be ship a website, even if the build process fails. In essence, if the build does fail I can still take all the source files, put them on a server, and the website remains functional (however crude).

Web tech is better. Developer norms are worse. | Go Make Things

The web historically moves in waves.

Libraries are created to push complex features in an easier way. Then the libraries themselves get complicated, often more so than the benefits they provide.

Eventually, (some of) the core features of those libraries make their way into the browser itself, but the libraries linger like water on the shore, slowly receding.

And before the sand has a chance to fully dry, a new set of libraries washes in to push the web even further.

Modern CSS in a Nutshell - Cloud Four

I like this high-level view of the state of CSS today. There are two main takeaways:

1. Custom properties, flexbox, and grid are game-changers.
2. Pre- and post-processers are becoming less and less necessary.

This is exactly the direction we should be going in! More and more power from the native web technologies (while still remaining learnable), with less and less reliance on tooling. For CSS, the tools have been like polyfills that we can now start to remove.

Alas, while the same should be true of JavaScript (there’s so much you can do in native JavaScript now), people seem to have tied their entire identities to the tooling they use.

They could learn a thing or two from the trajectory of CSS: treat your frameworks as cattle, not pets.

🧠 ct.css – Let’s take a look inside your `head`

I love a good bookmarklet, and Harry has made a very good bookmarklet indeed.

Drag ct.css to your browser bar and then press it whenever you’re on a site you want to check for optimising what’s in the head element.

New principle: Do not design around third-party tools unless it actually breaks the Web · Issue #335 · w3ctag/design-principles

There’s a really interesting discussion here, kicked off by Lea, about balancing long-term standards with short-term pragmatism. Specifically, it’s about naming things.

Naming things is hard. Naming things in standards, doubly so.

Modern JS is amazing. Modern JS is trash. | Go Make Things

My name is Jeremy Keith and I endorse this message:

I love the modern JS platform (the stuff the browser does for you), and hate modern JS tooling.

I use Firefox. You should too. It’s fast, secure, and more privacy-focused than the leading browser from the big G.

When it comes to web development, the CSS developer tooling in Firefox is second-to-none. But when it comes to JavaScript and network-related debugging (like service workers), Chrome’s tools are currently better than Firefox’s (for now). For example, Chrome has a tab in its developer tools that lets you run Lighthouse on the currently open tab.

Yesterday, I got the Calibre newsletter, which always has handy performance-related links from Karolina. She pointed to a Lighthouse extension for Firefox. “Excellent!”, I thought, and I immediately installed it. But I had some qualms about installing a plug-in from Google into a browser from Mozilla, particularly as the plug-in page says:

This is not a Recommended Extension. Make sure you trust it before installing

Well, I gave it a go. It turns out that all it actually does is redirect to the online version of Lighthouse. “Hang on”, I thought. “This could just be a bookmarklet!”

So I immediately uninstalled the browser extension and made this bookmarklet:

Lighthouse

Drag that up to your desktop browser’s bookmarks toolbar. Press it whenever you’re on a site that you want to test.

This Page is Designed to Last: A Manifesto for Preserving Content on the Web

Geocities, LiveJournal, what.cd, now Yahoo Groups. One day, Medium, Twitter, and even hosting services like GitHub Pages will be plundered then discarded when they can no longer grow or cannot find a working business model.

Considering the needs of someone who wants to make and maintain a website, without the ridiculous complexity of “modern” web tooling:

How do we make web content that can last and be maintained for at least 10 years? As someone studying human-computer interaction, I naturally think of the stakeholders we aren’t supporting. Right now putting up web content is optimized for either the professional web developer (who use the latest frameworks and workflows) or the non-tech savvy user (who use a platform).