In the world of Geographic Information Systems (GIS), a quiet war is being waged, not between open-source and proprietary tools, but between substance and spectacle, skill and status, community and corporatism.
A perfect example is the GISP (Geographic Information Systems Professional) certification. On the surface, it's marketed as the gold standard for GIS professionals. But a closer look reveals a different story: one where branding and networking matter more than deep technical expertise. GISP often serves as a symbol of professional legitimacy in corporate and government circles, yet many of the most technically proficient geospatial developers I know have neither pursued it nor needed to.
This isn't just a gripe about one certification. It's a wider pattern, where large American companies use aggressive marketing and corporate lobbying to establish themselves as industry "standards," even when better, community-driven alternatives exist.
ESRI, with its proprietary dominance in GIS software, is another prime example. Despite significant advances in open-source geospatial technologies like QGIS, PostGIS, and GeoServer, many organizations remain locked into expensive ESRI ecosystems, not because they’re better, but because they’re seen as the norm.
Contrast this with the vibrant open-source geospatial community which are largely rooted in European institutions and research bodies. These communities prioritize interoperability, transparency, and technical merit over brand recognition. They have played a vital role in keeping the GIS ecosystem open, flexible, and driven by collaboration rather than control.
The bigger picture here is about systems of power. American capitalism, for all its technological glitz, often rewards those who can best package and sell not necessarily those who build or understand the underlying technology. It's a system that elevates suits over engineers, sales pitches over solutions. In that sense, the American model shares an uncomfortable resemblance to the dysfunctions we see in countries like Nigeria, where access and influence often trump substance and skill. The only difference? America has the wealth, war spoils, and infrastructure to mask its inequalities.
Historically, Nigeria's more stable periods were when our governance and institutions leaned toward the British model; structured, rule-based, and less driven by spectacle. The cultural shift that began in the '80s, when American influence grew among our political and celebrity class, also coincided with the rise in unchecked greed, corruption, and performative leadership.
Of course, neither British nor American models are perfect, and open-source communities themselves are not immune to politics. But the takeaway is this: the more we allow credentials, branding, and lobbying to define professional success, the more we risk losing the people who actually build and sustain our systems.
The GIS industry (and the tech world at large) should take a hard look at who gets to be called an expert, and why. Until then, we should remain wary of certifications that masquerade as standards, and we should celebrate the developers, data wranglers, and problem-solvers who keep the industry running; quietly, and without fanfare.
Follow Me