Complexity is a cult

Complexity is a cult.

Worshipping at the altar of the one true way is a fantastic idea if you want to spin your wheels and never get anywhere. Endless diagrams, alignment sessions and ideation. Climb the ladder to nowhere. See where it takes you.

Shipping is lame. Meticulous plans are the bible.

If you plan hard and long enough, you not only get to flex your judgement, but also — you might just pivot into a whole new project, way before you even glance away from the theoretical towards the practical. You can probably get away with shipping nothing at all. No risk, no mess. Nothing to go wrong.

Furiously drinking the kool-aid of microservices-for-the-frontend, modular-monoliths and k81s is the way. If it worked for Amazon in 2012, it’s obviously right for your 7-person team shipping an AI-native Chrome extension in 2026.

Endlessly spouting opinions you read online as your own is the way.

Their process is our process. Our values are their values. Or was it the other way around?

First principles are for idiots.

Bask in the light of the one true plan, in its 40 pages of glory. You might have comments, but they’ll be ignored. It was perfect from the start.

You’re not here to beat us, you’re here to join us, or at least to massage our egos.

We follow the SPORK framework (Scalable, Performant, Overcomplicated, Rigid, Kafka-dependent).

Complexity is not a cult.

Ok fine, I lied. Complexity definitely is a cult.

built on top of K81s and SAND (Serverless Architecture for No-Domain).

Complexity becomes a way to avoid making — and owning — decisions.

Planning is useful. So is design. But worshipping complexity as proof of sophistication is what kills velocity. We act like adding moving parts makes us smarter. It doesn’t. It just makes the car harder to steer.

The antidote is to keep everything small: the plan, the code, the surface area, the scope. Build something simple. Add more later, when reality demands it.

If you can’t explain why complexity exists yet, it doesn’t.

You’re not building a product. You’re being initiated.