Who's writing that code? Do individuals write code and throw it over the wall, never having to talk to another soul? Or does it come from a community of people who have to interact with each other?

The practice of FOSS software development is, in part, an exercise in community management. It'd be great if we could all just focus on the code - that's a significant chunk of the point of active community management, so that the developers involved don't have to worry about their safety at conferences, about harassment from other members of the community, about whether they're going to be the only POC/woman/disabled person at the meetup and how to protect themselves from everybody else there, when they just want to build software. The people who want to do more than just build software are the people who decide it'd be a great idea to use their power within the community to harass us, assault us, or more, without social consequence.

As a result of FOSS software development being a community activity, figuring out how best to run that community for the benefit of all within it is a necessity. And at some point, you'll find a transphobe and a trans person, a racist and an Indian, a misogynist and a woman, in your community, and something happens - and the question is, what happens then? Do we put huge amounts of effort into trying to teach bigots not to be bigots, or at least shut up about their bigotry within the context of the community? (Yes, the communities I'm part of do this, to a significant degree.) Do we eventually kick out the people causing the trouble, or the victims of it? Do we intentionally create segregated communities so that women never have to meet misogynists and rapists, in order to avoid kicking anybody out? Do we try to avoid conflict from happening, or do we only ever react to it when it does? These are questions that need answering, and nobody will ever agree on the answers to all of them.

I've been a part of several communities and suffered harassment in a few of them due to my gender, medical history, and disabilities. Most notable is the hacklab in my previous city where women and people of colour were regularly made to feel uncomfortable by one particular member, and nothing was done about it for months, directly losing us several potential new members. The building it's situated in, up a number of flights of stairs, has lost us multiple members over the years, due to its inaccessibility to people with mobility issues - a problem to be solved, not ignored. A number of friends have received sexual harassment at conferences - I'm picky enough about the conferences I go to that I'm lucky not to have suffered that. I'm also smart enough to figure out that when someone goes off on a rant in a project's IRC channel about how stylistic issues around gendered wording in documentation are going to bring the fall of mankind, I'm probably not going to be accepted there - if someone is that upset about a Bob being changed to a Barbara in the documentation, it's likely they have larger issues with women. I'm glad that you have not suffered any of this, and hope that continues.

What, exactly, would you accept as proof that a community has benefited from the existence of its code of conduct and other community management tools?