• by Jeff Einstein , July 12, 2004

Hope all is well with you and yours. Last week I wrote about "Life as Spam." Wanted to continue with the spam theme this week simply because I think spam is such a fitting metaphor for modern times.

I don't know about you, but the recent Can-Spam act had little or no effect on the amount of spam I still receive in my email inbox every day. A quick poll of friends and relatives indicated likewise at their ends: little or no difference whatsoever.

So what was the point of Can-Spam if in fact it did so little to reduce the amount of spam in our lives? Can-Spam did two things right away: 1) It drove major email offenders offshore where they can operate with even greater impunity, and 2) it caused significant confusion and expense among legitimate marketers suddenly charged with compliance.

As regulatory statutes go, the Can-Spam Act -- at 21 pages -- was pretty lightweight, a mere drop in the bucket compared to the extensive Sarbanes- Oxley Act, or the 21,000-page Federal Tax Code. Nevertheless, the first barrage of posts on the marketing boards following passage of Can-Spam was from harried legitimate email marketers seeking clarification of the new law. Of course no one wanted to run afoul of the Feds (at least not before anyone could understand why), and at the same time everyone wanted to do everything possible to distance themselves from the odorous stigma of spam, now formally vilified.

Thus Can-Spam, despite its relatively lightweight status as a Federal statute, shared a common byproduct of almost all regulatory statute: the threat of involuntary noncompliance -- what drives willing offenders underground (or offshore), and what legitimate marketers fall prey to when the regulatory environment becomes literally too complex or burdensome to comply with. Little things start falling through the cracks, and lawyers seek new loopholes to exploit. Involuntary noncompliance is also what happens when an Alzheimer's victim forgets to take his medication. Involuntary noncompliance is goal obscured by process, which -- by the way -- describes a great deal of day-to-day business in the 21st century. It is literally impossible to operate a business in the United States today in full compliance of the law, just as it is all but impossible to manage a complex integrated marketing campaign. There is simply too much to know or not know at any given point in time.

The only hedge against involuntary noncompliance is to hire more lawyers and generate more paperwork. Even this, however, guarantees only more work for the lawyers, and represents a remedy available only to larger corporations. Both big and small players are thus forced to operate in pretty much the same manner: Do what they must to get by and hope no one with a badge and a summons is waiting for them at the door the next morning.

Flashback: Back around 1990, my interactive advertising agency -- Einstein and Sandom, Inc. (EASI) -- secured the U.S. GAO as a client. Of course we were thrilled to have such a prestigious government agency as part of our client portfolio, but our euphoria lasted only as long as it took for the GAO to deliver its first contract, a 200-page tome for the Paperwork Reduction Act. We would have read it, but neither my partner J. Sandom nor I could lift it.

"Did you read this?" he asked me.

"Sure did," I lied. "Did you?"

"Sure did," he lied back.

So despite the cautious advice of our attorney(s) -- who wanted to charge us $250/hour to read it for us -- we promptly signed it anyway and filed it away with the implicit understanding that we doubtless violated something in it the very moment we signed it. Turns out the Paperwork Reduction Act was just the overture to a much greater contractual opus with the GAO.

Involuntary noncompliance is symptomatic of unmanageable complexity, a primary attribute of addiction. Granted, the above example is somewhat less than onerous compared to businesses that are literally regulated to death, but the lesson is clear (much clearer than the Paperwork Reduction Act itself): unmanageable complexity forces us to compromise ourselves merely to survive.

Just as salt and fat are the two major purveyors of flavor in food (the reason why low-fat, low-sodium diets are so tasteless), regulatory statute and technology are the two major purveyors of unmanageable complexity in business and modern life in general. Indeed, the two generally work hand-in- glove. Digital technology is the perfect partner for any and all bureaucracy -- anywhere accountability and decisive action are qualities to be avoided at all costs.

Unfortunately, cutting back on our diets of regulatory statute and technology makes cutting back on dietary fat and sodium look like virtual romps in the park. Besides, we've been cutting back on fat in our diets for the last two decades -- and we're fatter than ever as a result. Our efforts to regulate spam and other less savory marketing practices (like advertising to young children) will likely produce results similar to Can-Spam and other stillborn regulatory statutes unless we start looking at the world in different terms entirely per Albert Einstein's observation that no problem can be solved by the thinking that created the problem.

I would suggest that we begin our deliberations with the notion that the only truly sober way to view the world today is through the eyes of a recovering addict, because recovering addicts are the only ones schooled in sobriety. Your thoughts?

Many thanks for your gracious time, dear reader. Best to you and yours.

Please note: A new Einstein's Corner discussion group has been opened on Yahoo at http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/einsteinscorner/. The Einstein's Corner discussion group is dedicated to exploring the adverse effects of our addictions to technology and media on the quality of our lives, both at work and at home. Please feel free to drop by and join the discussion.