Here’s the TL;DR:

• I’m building Open WebUI because it’s the infrastructure I want for myself—a platform that gives me total autonomy, runs entirely offline when needed, and puts me in control of my data and tools. If no one else is building it, I will.
• My ultimate ambition is to accelerate humanity’s readiness for space exploration. Space demands systems that are resilient, self-sufficient, and capable of thriving in isolation—a vision Open WebUI is engineered for.
• Beyond personal desire and space, this is about enabling communities and individuals to operate autonomously, systemically reducing the risks associated with centralized dependency. The goal is to make larger networks an option, not a requirement, so connectivity enhances resilience rather than becoming a critical point of failure.
• This project is urgent because centralized platforms are eroding individuality, suppressing diversity, and introducing fragility into human progress. Open WebUI aims to offer tools for autonomy that empower people even if the internet, infrastructure, or societal stability falters.
• At its core, Open WebUI aims to unlock new possibilities with local AI: decentralized communication, and the ability to thrive independently, whether in a rural village, an off-grid community, or a Mars colony. It’s the kind of future I believe humanity deserves—and I’ll build it because I can, starting with what we need today.

Below, I’ll break down these ideas and explain why this vision is essential—not just for me, but for the trajectory of humanity’s progress.

A Framework for True Independence

Throughout human history, progress has been inseparable from the struggle for independence. Independence, in itself, is the genesis of creativity and resilience. Whether it was the control over fire that freed early humans from the tyranny of darkness, the invention of agriculture that untethered us from a purely hunting-based existence, or the printing press that democratized knowledge, progress has always been the gradual removal of constraints. It’s not just a historical pattern; it’s a principle of our existence. Today, as we live in perhaps the most interconnected era humanity has ever known, the ironic and often overlooked truth is that we’ve become overwhelmingly dependent on external systems—systems that are fragile, increasingly consolidated, and, perhaps most concerning of all, largely opaque.

This is why I’m building a future centered around true decentralization. Open WebUI is just a means to this end—it is not the conclusion, but rather the beginning of a conversation about how we reclaim autonomy over our digital infrastructures. Our current moment in history presents a profound challenge: What happens if the internet, the very fabric of our global connectivity, suddenly goes away? Not because of some nebulous sci-fi disaster scenario, but from something as mundane yet catastrophic as geopolitical strife, infrastructure failure, or large-scale centralized censorship? More importantly, how do we build technology that thrives in isolation—not as an afterthought, but as its purpose? To answer that, we must build a different paradigm of decentralization: one not rooted in maintaining vast distributed systems for fault tolerance, but one that empowers individuals and communities to fully operate as islands of their own design.

Why Isolation Promotes Resilience

The beauty of true decentralization isn’t just independence; it’s diversity. While interconnectedness and centralization claim to foster collaboration, they often achieve the opposite, pushing toward homogenization. Large networks feed everyone the same algorithms, the same trends, the same priorities—an optimization process that favors mass engagement over individual needs or values. They do not exist to serve you as an independent actor; they exist to serve their own "loss function"—maximizing user engagement, advertiser revenue, or political influence. This creates incentives to shape what you think, see, and even desire, making individuality harder to sustain.

High variance, however, is the foundation of resilience. Nature offers countless examples proving this: diverse ecosystems can survive shocks that destroy monocultures. In technology, politics, and society, the same principle holds true. Big networks suppress variance—not deliberately, but by design. A system tuned for maximum central engagement doesn't reward difference; it penalizes it, requiring conformity to propagate. The result? We see more uniformity of thought and behavior. People become mirrors of the systems feeding them, parroting the same ideas rather than exploring new ones. In biology, lack of variance is how diseases spread rapidly. In society, it erodes innovation and independence by breeding ideological fragility.

History reinforces this lesson. Consider the Roman Empire: interconnected regions benefited from consistency and shared infrastructure—until the system grew too interdependent, too uniform, and too centralized to adapt to external pressures. The collapse of one part profoundly weakened others, triggering systemic failure. The very interconnectedness that supported its dominance became its Achilles heel. Diversity and independence wouldn’t just have been safeguards—they’d have been survival strategies. Yet, centralized empires fail this test because local nodes lose autonomy over their own priorities.

Today’s digital landscape mirrors this dynamic. We willingly use centralized platforms because no serious alternatives exist—platforms flush with resources and power, ensuring we are locked in as dependents. But this dependency comes with an extraordinary cost. No matter how connected we feel, we remain at the mercy of opaque gatekeepers who hold the cards to manipulate, misinform, or outright censor. They decide what is amplified and fed back to us. Worse, centralized algorithms tune themselves not for the authenticity of our needs, but for maximum utility to the system, making us unwitting participants in networks that prioritize growth over integrity.

And yet, everything essential—true innovation, dissenting thought, cultural divergence—requires isolation to grow. This is not a call to abandon global networks, but to ensure we have spaces where local distinctiveness thrives unfettered. At the heart of America’s founding principles lies this balance—the federal structure allows scaled connections while retaining state sovereignty as an incubator for diversity in governance. Just as federalism ensures we can test new paradigms locally, isolation in digital or social systems ensures that communities—or even individuals—preserve the freedom to think, act, and innovate independently. Without this balance, the system collapses when the top fails, dragging everything beneath it down.

Critically, isolation isn’t the rejection of interconnectedness but its counterpart that prevents collapse. A forest does not thrive because all its trees are the same. It thrives because a fungal network supports healthy roots, fertile soils, and adaptable diversity. Likewise, humans need networks, but those networks flourish when shaped by local autonomy, not centralized mandates. Systems fail when their interconnections choke individuality; societies crumble when their voices are reduced to whispers within the roar of algorithmic sameness. Freedom of speech, freedom of thought, and freedom to innovate rely on isolation—not as exile, but as a foundation for uncorrupted creativity and self-determination.

The last frontier for human progress—not just in space, but here on Earth—is reclaiming this principle of resilience through meaningful localism. Before we build cities on Mars, we must ensure communities on Earth have the tools to thrive without dependency on fragile, centralized systems. The resilience we demand on Mars—through isolated, self-sustaining networks—applies everywhere. The future of humanity isn’t one vast digital empire; it’s thousands of vibrant local ones, each distinct, autonomous, and capable of standing on its own.

A World Without the Internet

Let’s entertain this idea fully: What if the internet just went away tomorrow? To many, this seems unthinkable. And it is precisely that complacency that makes us vulnerable. The truth is, “no internet” is not some speculative dystopia we’ve bravely escaped—it’s still the unaltered default for much of human existence. Societies flourished, revolutions unfolded, and progress marched forward long before anyone strung fiber-optic cables across continents. While today’s internet might feel indispensable, framing it as inevitable blinds us to its fragility.

The collapse of the internet is unlikely for most of us, but it doesn’t need to disappear entirely for society to falter. Our increasing reliance on a handful of centralized services means that even minor disruptions could cause widespread chaos. If a few key players go down, particularly those managing messaging, content, or infrastructure, it could feel like the internet no longer exists for the majority of people. The terrifying truth is that we’ve come to equate "the internet" with these centralized services. A failure of just a few popular platforms—due to geopolitical conflicts, economic turmoil, or natural disasters—could leave us stranded, disconnected, and unable to function effectively in personal or professional spaces.

The vulnerabilities of this dependency already manifest themselves in small but revealing ways. Consider examples like Slack or Discord—tools many rely on daily for collaboration. On rare occasions, their servers experience unexpected downtime. Even when outages last only hours, widespread frustration and paralysis ripple through workplaces. This raises a deeper issue: these tools are lubricants for modern communication, but their centralized nature creates bottlenecks. They hold a tremendous amount of power, not only over access but also over what can be seen, shared, or stored. Whether they actively monitor your data or not, they can. The fact that this is even possible reflects the staggering imbalance of control.

But failure isn’t always temporary. A recent and eye-opening case of fragility can be seen in the abrupt shutdown of @Bench, an accounting platform that raised $110 million in venture capital. Right before the end of the year, with no prior warning, they closed their doors, leaving customers unable to access their financial data—an absolutely critical function. Incidents like these reinforce how dangerous it is to rely on centralized platforms without any fallback. Even if the warning signs are invisible to outsiders, the risk is always there. The power dynamics of centralization mean we, the users, often have no assurances of continuity, making that trust a gamble every time we adopt new tools.

This same principle extends into societal and infrastructural issues. America has faced real examples of censorship, such as the removal of "controversial" subreddits or the suppression of certain ideologies on platforms like Twitter. Whether you view these decisions as justified or not, the point is that platforms dictate the terms of our conversations. The decisions could just as easily swing the other way, leaving those who once approved of the measures on the receiving end of suppression. Centralized control means content—be it political, social, or even benign creative outputs—will always be at the mercy of those holding the reins.

Now, contrast this with an alternate reality: a world where every home, school, and community can operate autonomously. A world where knowledge is not confined to a single server or disrupted by a company’s misstep but is preserved in accessible, local AI agents. A world where conversations and creativity don’t stop because of some distant infrastructure failure but grow via decentralized tools, mesh networks, and platforms that thrive independently of global systems. Imagine communities maintaining vibrant ecosystems of knowledge, communication, and innovation without fearing disconnection—tapping into global networks selectively, as an option, not as an existential requirement.

This is the vision Open WebUI is working toward. It’s not just about solving the edge cases where disconnection is a matter of geography or policy—it’s also about addressing the fragility of our existing systems, even in places where the internet seems immutable. The choice isn’t between full isolation and full connectivity; it’s about creating resilient systems that empower individuals and communities to thrive in any scenario.

The internet, as we know it, may feel indispensable—but history shows us that progress has never been tied to any one infrastructure. It’s always been about the tools we can control ourselves, those we can adapt and empower locally. The future won’t be defined by how seamlessly we can stay interconnected but by how effectively we can thrive when those connections fail.

Let’s delve deeper into the building blocks of this vision—starting with how local AI can serve as a cornerstone for autonomy and resilience.

LLMs: The Compression Layer of the Internet

At the core of this new paradigm lies the transformative force of AI. Not the inscrutable, monolithic AI tied to corporate servers, but open-weight, freely available AI models that individuals can download, run, and modify locally. These Large Language Models (LLMs)—such as Meta’s Llama or Alibaba's Qwen Models—are not mere tools for automation or novelty. They are, in essence, a compression of human knowledge, the living memory of the internet, reduced and refined into a form that transcends its medium.

Think of the internet as humanity’s collective brain, storing its ideas, its stories, its discoveries, and its culture. LLMs take that unfathomable torrent of information and turn it into something adaptable, interoperable, and deeply personal. In doing so, they provide a layer of decentralization that no distributed network can replicate. A distributed network might ensure that a website stays online even if one server goes down, but it can’t empower you if the entire internet disappears. A local AI that you can host independently, on your laptop or personal server, thrives in complete isolation. It is autonomy distilled into bytes.

Consider this within the framework of space travel and colonization. For explorers on Mars, minutes or even hours of data latency make reliance on Earth-based servers untenable. They will need to operate autonomously, not just in terms of infrastructure but in terms of knowledge creation and access. Imagine an entire colony operating on the compressed wisdom of decades, retrievable and infinitely adaptable through a local AI platform, with no reliance on centralized networks that do not and cannot exist in deep space. But let’s bring this back to Earth—because for billions of people, that reality of isolation isn’t a hypothetical future. It’s now. There are vast regions of the world, from war zones to rural villages, that cannot depend on consistent internet access, reliable infrastructure, or freedom from censorship. For these communities, a completely self-sufficient local AI is not just a futuristic idea. It’s a necessity.

Why Now?

So why is now the perfect moment for this shift? Why is this not only feasible but critical at this point in history? Because right now, for the first time, technological advancements—especially in artificial intelligence—are leveling the playing field in ways previously unimaginable. AI is no longer reserved for deep-pocketed tech giants with sprawling server farms. As mentioned previously, open-weight AI models like Llama and Qwen have democratized access to some of the most advanced AI systems, making it possible to run state-of-the-art language models entirely offline, even on consumer hardware. This changes everything.

Small networks have always been seen as fundamentally inferior to massive platforms like Facebook or Twitter because, let’s face it, they lacked utility. A social platform or communication tool with just a handful of members always felt like a poorly scaled-down version of something larger. But with AI in the mix, this notion is flipped on its head. For the first time, a small or even single-player network isn’t an empty shell—it’s a thriving, hyper-functional environment. AI fills in the gaps, dynamically creating value where none existed before. It can act as a collaborator, a content creator, a moderator, or even an adviser. Your network doesn’t need 10,000 users posting every day to stay engaging when you have AI agents crafting meaningful interactions, knowledge, and content tailored exactly to your needs.

This is the new playing field. Big networks still have their place; scale has undeniable benefits for visibility and reach. However, AI removes the "fundamental inferiority" of small networks. Now, small isn’t weak—it’s personal. It’s relevant. A private, insulated network with AI tools becomes uniquely valuable because it’s optimized specifically for you. What’s more, AI integration in small networks alleviates scalability fatigue. AI tools don’t burn out, and they don’t suffer from declining engagement due to inactivity. Throw a single Open WebUI instance into a small community—your home, a local institution, or an offline organization—and you’ve empowered them in ways that global platforms simply can’t match. This reality makes decentralized tools not just competitive but a viable alternative to centralized monopolies.

The timing is impeccable because we’re also standing on the cusp of a deeper utility for AI. “AI agents” are still mostly a buzzword today, but we’re beginning to see their potential. Imagine a future where they go beyond reactive tasks and start being truly proactive: an AI agent as your coworker, your labmate, your tutor. An agent that doesn’t just recommend content but creates it—writing posts, making instructional videos, generating artistic works—all precisely attuned to your needs. These agents won’t just augment your productivity—they’ll act as creative collaborators, essentially becoming extensions of yourself. Meaningful content creation, education, and entertainment will no longer rely on endless human effort but will emerge from these intelligent agents working tirelessly alongside you.

But here’s the crucial question: Would you trust these agents if their insights, creations, and interactions depended on a centralized server that logs and monitors all of your data? Would you gift a private company, however competent, such unfettered access to your life? AI, to be truly useful, needs to know everything about you. And that’s exactly why reliance on corporate servers is problematic. These companies don’t just store the data—they own it. They monetize it. They bar you from accessing it in meaningful ways, often hiding behind terms-of-service agreements that turn your existence into their commodity. Discord, for instance, famously prohibits you from using your own server data to train personal AI models, even if you or your community created that data. What kind of power dynamic is that?

The Next Social Platform: Independence in Communication

This is why the vision doesn’t end at empowering individuals with local AI. Autonomy in knowledge must be matched with autonomy in communication. To achieve true decentralization, we must rethink how humans interact across networks. When I tell people “I’m building everything, and we’ll do everything,” they tend to look at me funny, as if I’m speaking in grandiose, impractical terms. But I mean it—not in an unfocused or overreaching sense, but with the clarity that to build something complete, to aim for true decentralization, you cannot solve isolated problems. Communication doesn’t exist without knowledge, knowledge doesn’t thrive without creativity, and none of these matter if they don’t serve real human interaction. Technology must be built holistically, addressing the deeply embedded needs of individuals and communities. When I say “we’ll do everything,” I simply mean that everything matters.

At its heart, communication is deeply human. While AI has revolutionized human-computer interaction, most people don’t dream of “talking to a computer.” They want to talk to other people via a computer. And yet, AI complements this beautifully—it doesn’t replace human interaction but enhances it. For instance, we already see people using AI models to communicate better—drafting emails, brainstorming ideas, debating opposing viewpoints. These aren’t ends in themselves; they’re means to an end: to interact more effectively with others. The integration of AI within a decentralized social platform won’t just make small-scale networks viable; it will make them dynamic, intelligent spaces.

Here’s where it gets exciting: It’s true that networks inherently grow more useful as their size increases—that’s Metcalfe’s Law in action. At scale, platforms like Instagram or X are vastly useful because their value multiplies with every new connection. But AI changes the rules of this game. Open WebUI makes even a network of one not just functional, but incredibly valuable. Thanks to LLMs, the limitations of a small network are elegantly sidestepped. AI agents fill the roles often served by human scale—moderation, content-creation, conversation—ensuring that even the smallest community, or even just an individual, can thrive in an isolated environment. It’s no exaggeration to say that AI allows you to interact with a distilled version of humanity itself. A single person can tap into the accumulated wisdom of the entire internet, leaning on AI for brainstorming, generating ideas, or simply staying intellectually engaged. It’s why Open WebUI already has an extensive userbase that includes individuals running “networks of one”—and thriving because of it. You’re never truly alone when you can engage with AI models that encapsulate the combined knowledge, creativity, and reasoning of the internet and more.

But the power of Open WebUI doesn’t end with individuals. Its architecture is just as capable of serving communities, organizations, or entire regions—whether those environments remain globally connected or entirely offline. A single device running Open WebUI can support a fully functional communication platform, enabling collaboration, knowledge sharing, and independent AI-assisted workflows even when a broader network connection is unavailable.

Imagine not just communities but entire regions running their own self-contained communication platforms, hosted by one person on a laptop or low-power server. No reliance on corporate platforms riddled with opaque algorithms, no fear of exclusion from global conversations due to server outages or government oppression. Just raw, unfiltered communication operating within airgapped environments when necessary, or integrating with larger networks on the community's own terms. The best part? This isn't a pipe dream. Today’s low-power servers are remarkably capable, like the $249 Jetson Orin Nano Super—which can run advanced AI models and serve a fully-featured Open WebUI instance with just 25 watts of power. Entire communities could be supported with devices this compact, and yes, by combining multiple such devices for distributed computing (irony noted, thank you), even more scalability is possible. The technology is here—and embarrassingly affordable—it’s only that we haven’t embraced its full potential yet.

Data Sovereignty: The Edge in AI’s Future

AI’s performance is intrinsically tied to data. It is the fuel that powers every model, every interaction, and every capability. More importantly, generic datasets—scraped from Reddit, Wikipedia, or public archives—can only take AI so far. The best AI experiences of tomorrow won’t be built on troves of generic data. They will hinge on context, relevance, and specificity: your data, your preferences, your history. Even the most advanced AI systems of the future, whether Artificial General Intelligence (AGI) or Artificial Superintelligence (ASI), will require an understanding of your unique context to provide relevant and meaningful assistance. Without that, even the most sophisticated models would remain largely generic, offering shallow insights and surface-level utility rather than truly enhancing your work or life. And here’s the catch—you can’t expect to benefit from this advantage if you don’t own your data. Conventional platforms hoard it for themselves, building walled gardens that you can’t scale or personalize. Worse, they inherently disrespect the individual by dictating how data can or cannot be used, often without ever letting you participate in the value chain.

This is where Open WebUI can change the equation. By giving you a self-hosted ecosystem where you own and control your data, we’re laying the groundwork for a future where every interaction strengthens your personal AI models. Your chat logs, your documents, your creative outputs—all of it can be utilized to make AI yours. Even if Open WebUI’s ecosystem is still maturing, holding onto your data today is a long-term investment. Eventually, tools will evolve to fully capitalize on the treasure trove of knowledge you’ve created, enabling bespoke model fine-tuning and optimization that would make any proprietary alternative laughably generic in comparison.

This speaks to a broader tension in AI adoption: ownership versus outsourcing. As AI starts replacing more human jobs and tasks, the pressure to retain control of your digital identity, history, and creative output will only intensify. Data sovereignty isn’t just an abstract concept; it will directly determine who thrives in an AI-driven economy. Keeping your data local and accessible isn’t just about protecting your privacy—it’s about ensuring you’re not left behind in a world where “data is the new oil.” Open WebUI provides both the vision and the tools to prepare for that inevitability.

Building the Foundations

AI tools today excel in specific, narrowly defined tasks. They are brilliant at solving individual problems but often fall short when it comes to providing a unified, flexible platform. These tools are almost always built for personal use—as standalone apps that serve one person at a time—and while they’re great in isolation, they tend to fragment workflows rather than consolidate them. Use one AI app for writing, another for task management, another for brainstorming, another for communication—each locked in its own interface or ecosystem. But what happens when you move beyond individual use cases? What if you need a holistic system that scales not just for one person but also for an entire community, and one that works offline while giving you complete control over your data? Suddenly, the limitations of these hyper-focused solutions become glaringly apparent.

And that’s the challenge with most AI-driven platforms: while some attempt to “do everything,” they often sacrifice self-hostability in the process. The reliance on proprietary infrastructures and cloud services makes running them locally either infeasible or incomplete without vendor lock-in. Instead of enabling genuine independence, these systems funnel your activities—and all of your data—through someone else’s servers, stripping you of the choice to operate on your own terms. Open WebUI takes a different approach. It doesn’t aim to “do it all” immediately, but it is designed to evolve as a practical, self-hostable platform that puts users in control. The recent introduction of “channels” is a foundational step: a system capable of hosting not just AI tools, but entire communities—a hub where communication, collaboration, and creation happen seamlessly, entirely under your control.

The goal is simple: to make Open WebUI the default platform for the future of work and productivity. Unlike Slack, which charges for access while limiting historical conversation storage, or Discord, which doesn’t allow you to use your server data for training personalized AI models, Open WebUI offers a different approach. It will let you do everything—communication, collaboration, knowledge creation, and search—on a single, self-hosted platform deployed with just a single line of command. No external servers, no hidden limitations—just complete autonomy and efficiency for anyone who values ownership of their work and data. And most importantly, even if Open WebUI disappeared tomorrow, your data stays with you. Self-hosting ensures total sovereignty, with no reliance on external systems and no risk of losing access to your tools or conversations. It’s your platform, your rules, forever.

The roadmap for features like channels will go beyond what’s available today. While the initial version focuses on text-based communication similar to Discord or Slack, the vision is far more robust. Channels will evolve to support all types of communication—including voice calls and video calls—offering a truly independent alternative to platforms like Zoom or Teams. In addition to ephemeral collaboration through communication tools, Open WebUI will also introduce a notes feature: a place for users to create sharable “posts” akin to what you might find on Twitter or Facebook, but hosted entirely on your own platform. Whether it’s long-form content, microblogging, or even private reflections, you’ll have an AI-powered text editor built right into the system, designed to help you capture and express your thoughts like never before. This feature won’t just be limited to posts—it could seamlessly function as a knowledge repository, only with the critical distinction that it defaults to private and fully exportable. Open WebUI will ensure the data you generate can be saved, shared, or transferred freely. Imagine easily migrating your content to another device, platform, or system if you choose, without fear of being locked into a specific ecosystem. Your data. Always portable. Always accessible.

And honestly? I’m building all of this because I want it for myself. I want tools that give me full sovereignty over my data, platforms that work offline, and systems that help me stay productive on my own terms—without spying on me or trapping me in someone else’s business model. I realized no one was offering that, so I decided to build it myself. Open WebUI is for anyone who thinks the same way, for anyone who sees the importance of not just asking for better tools, but creating them.

As Quentin Tarantino once said, “The audience I have in mind isn’t some faceless blob that I’m trying to second guess—it’s me. I’m the audience, and I know what I want to see. I was betting that there were other people like me out there.” That’s exactly how I feel about Open WebUI. I’m not building this for an abstract demographic or to meet someone else’s projections. I’m building it for me, hoping there are others like me who know the value of autonomy, privacy, and the freedom to create without compromise.

Why It Must Be Easy

None of this matters if people can’t use it. The most revolutionary technology is meaningless without usability. If we’re serious about competing with existing platforms, hosting Open WebUI—or any self-hostable system—has to be as easy as downloading an app. Right now, something like docker start is a step in the right direction, far more approachable than something like docker compose, particularly for someone just starting out. But even a single command can feel like too much friction. That’s why we’re committed to moving beyond “approachable” and into seamless. If a binary executable makes sense, we’ll provide it. If tutorials are needed, we’ll create them. If additional tools simplify the process, we’ll build them.

The goal isn’t just to make Open WebUI easy—it’s to make it easier than setting up a workspace on Slack, faster than creating an account on any internet-reliant platform, and immediately usable even offline. No waiting, no external dependencies, no barriers. We’re close—but close isn’t enough. We’ll do better. Because we believe that giving people the ability to take control of their digital infrastructure shouldn’t involve a learning curve. It should just work. Technology doesn’t serve humanity by being complicated; it serves us by making power accessible. And that’s exactly what we’ll deliver.

The Final Frontier and The First Step

As artificial intelligence begins to touch every domain of human endeavor, this truth becomes unavoidable: the systems we once built to serve us are now capable of rendering us unnecessary. AI is replacing human labor in ways we’re only beginning to grasp, and the rate of this change is accelerating. Imagine a world where every task, from engineering to art to agriculture, can be performed by machines. In such a world, centralized structures—whether they be governments, corporations, or platforms—lose their incentives to serve the individual.

But here’s the silver lining: just as centralized systems begin not to need us, we also no longer need them. And that is a transformative truth. It’s precisely this decoupling that opens paths for independence—for individuals, for communities, and ultimately, for humanity. The very infrastructure we’re rushing to build for a machine-driven era contains within it the seeds of liberation. AI’s ability to substitute human labor—when paired with decentralized systems—enables anyone to transcend reliance on fragile, centralized systems.

Space represents humanity’s next inevitable step—not as a distant dream, but as a practical necessity. As Earth becomes ever more centralized—economically, politically, and digitally—the need for resilience and independence grows sharper. Space doesn’t just offer physical expansion; it forces a reimagining of what it means to survive without relying on fragile, sprawling networks. A research station on Enceladus, studying its geologic activity beneath an icy crust, won’t have the luxury of instant Earth-based support if something goes wrong. An asteroid mining outpost near Ceres will require fully autonomous systems to harvest, process, and manage resources—not only to ensure their own survival but also to meet the practicalities of multi-year round trips. Even aboard an interstellar spacecraft, where light-years separate travelers from Earth, AI systems must empower individuals to independently troubleshoot failures, optimize conditions, and create solutions on the fly. The tools we develop for these scenarios—offline AI assistants, modular systems, and autonomous frameworks—will be essential not just for space but also for the most disconnected scenarios here on Earth.

From disaster-stricken regions to villages far from reliable infrastructure, decentralized tools like Open WebUI allow communities to maintain education, communication, and progress without dependencies on precarious centralized systems. Picture a coalition of research ships in the South Pacific generating and sharing insights with locally trained AI models, or a remote medical center restoring power and expertise after a communications blackout. Whether managing a lunar colony’s life-support systems or a small-town library’s local knowledge hub, the principle is the same: Open WebUI thrives in isolation, offering not just survival but empowerment. No matter where humans go—on Earth or across the solar system—independence will be our most critical asset, and tools like these will ensure we don’t merely persist but flourish.

But let’s step back from abstract futures and focus on today. Open WebUI is not some grandiose, final solution. It is the zeroth iteration of a far larger idea. The code you see today is not what defines it. In fact, I’m not attached to the code itself—it will be rewritten, optimized, and iterated upon countless times. What matters is that it exists now. Decisions can’t be made or optimized in a vacuum; they must be grounded in real use, with real people. Too often, projects get trapped in endless loops of refinement and perfectionism before launch. I firmly believe the only code worth perfecting is the code people are using today.

And here’s the truth that drives me: I am willing to dedicate my life to this. Why wouldn’t I? If this could be my life’s work, if this project could provoke even a fraction of the change I believe it can, then it is not just worth doing—it’s worth everything. I’m young. Even if I spent the next decade working tirelessly on Open WebUI, I’d still be young on the other side with the same fire driving me forward. But what makes this all the more exciting is that it’s already working. Open WebUI has gained traction, a growing community of users, contributors, and supporters—people who believe in this vision alongside me. Yes, much of the day-to-day effort rests entirely on my shoulders, but that is precisely my strength.

In a world where so many startups struggle to survive without multiple rounds of external funding and massive, bloated teams working through endless roadmaps, Open WebUI is different. I am not a company leveraged on promises of tomorrow. It’s just me, wearing every hat: architect, developer, designer, and strategist. To some, that might sound like a drawback, but I see it as a strength. When you have a single person driving the vision, there’s no bureaucracy, no middlemen, no delays from indecision. Decisions happen quickly, mistakes are addressed immediately, and progress is constant. That's the beauty of building this way. Is Open WebUI perfect right now? Of course not. No software ever is—not even from trillion-dollar tech companies that ship bugs and glitches all the time. But perfection isn’t the goal today; progress is. This is the long game, and I’m fully invested in it. Today we iterate; tomorrow we refine. Eventually, we’ll reach the level of polish and stability that defines any great system.

What sets me apart isn’t just my ability to execute quickly—it’s that I care. I deeply, genuinely care about every single line of code and every feature I put into this platform. I’ll be the first to admit that building Open WebUI can be high effort, but I have the energy, the focus, and the fire to see this through. And trust me, I’m in it for the long haul. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said earlier that I could dedicate the next decade of my life to this, and still have plenty of drive left afterward. I’ve already accomplished this much within a year—just imagine what 10 years could bring, especially as the project grows and more talented contributors join the team. I have no shortage of ambition, and I’m relentlessly practical about making it all happen. Every day, I wake up and push further. I even drag myself out for 10k runs—trust me, I don’t enjoy starting them, but I hear David Goggins in my head, and I love the finish. That’s how I approach this work too. I know the start is hard, but the end result is what gets me out of bed.

The thing is, I don’t see what I’m doing as extraordinary—I see it as necessary. If I’m wrong about something, I adapt. If a feature doesn’t land the way I expect, I iterate quickly, learn from the feedback, and do it better next time. That’s the beauty of this process: I’m building in real time, improving with every step, and never losing sight of the bigger picture. Open WebUI is far from perfect right now, but I promise, it will be. Every issue will be fixed, every rough edge will be smoothed out, and every overlooked flaw will be addressed. I see this as my responsibility—not just to the users or contributors, but to myself. I know what this platform can become, and I won’t rest until it gets there. To the skeptics, I say: watch me. To those who believe in me, I say: I won’t let you down.

And yet, this isn’t about me. Though I work alone, this has never been just my project. The growing community of contributors, users, and supporters makes this a collaborative force, and for that, I am deeply grateful. You’ve trusted me, supported me, and shown patience as I’ve navigated the challenges of building this vision from the ground up. Open WebUI already serves as a tool that people like you rely on, and that reality humbles me—it also drives me to be better, to do more, and to continue refining every step of the way. The work isn’t finished, and I know there’s still so much room for improvement. Thank you for giving me the time, the feedback, and the belief to keep going. This is only the beginning, and I couldn’t have made it this far without you. From the bottom of my heart—thank you.

Decades from now, Open WebUI could look nothing like it does today—and that’s the beauty of it. The purpose will remain, even as the implementation evolves. The aim of Open WebUI isn’t to remain static; it’s to build the systems and tools that transcend current limitations. This is where humanity goes next—not just in space, but in every facet of our lives.

Resilience, diversity, autonomy—these are the virtues driving Open WebUI. Whether it’s running in households, schools, hospitals, or one day on distant planets, this platform is about reclaiming control. The tools may look different over time, but the vision ties everything together: a world where systems enable individuals to thrive without dependency. Whether here on Earth or out among the stars, Open WebUI is built for humanity’s next golden age—one household, one organization, and eventually, one planet at a time.

Join us in building the future. If you're ready to be part of this mission, email me at [email protected] with the heading oi) let's build the future together to express your interest in contributing when opportunities arise. Or, consider sponsoring my work at https://github.com/sponsors/tjbck.

Because if the internet disappeared tomorrow—whether you're in a rural village, a densely populated city under censorship, or on the farthest reaches of the solar system—or even the universe—you shouldn’t just survive. You should thrive. And with the tools we are building today, we will.

Humanity grows in independence. It always has. It always will.