Our problematic obsession with the new

New is the easiest achievement in business. Change the name, buy unfamiliar software, announce a fresh method. For a brief, photogenic moment, nobody can ask whether it works because it has barely begun. Learning the old thing properly is less glamorous. Repetition produces no launch. Integration photographs badly. Removing the obsolete alternative may annoy somebody important. So organisations accumulate novelty instead: another channel, another tool, another identity, each one added before the previous decision has had time to become competent.

This is often called innovation. Hoarding is closer.

The defence of old systems can be equally stupid. Familiar waste becomes “how things work”. Nostalgia turns inconvenience into character. Anyone proposing change is asked to prove the future with evidence the current process was never required to provide.

The useful argument concerns displacement. What stops when the new thing begins? Which behaviour improves? How long will learning take, and who bears it? If nothing is removed, the innovation has probably increased complexity before producing a single benefit.

There are technologies worth adopting early because delay has a cost. There are experiments that deserve to run beside the established method. The problem is automatic virtue: new means brave, old means backward, and launch means progress. Those equations save everybody from inspecting results. Six months later, count what people actually use. The answer may be the old method, the new one and a desperate private workaround connecting both.

Still, the launch photographs were excellent.

Behavioural principles

Behavioural ideas at play in this post

Short, plain-English explanations of the principles behind this post, with links to related books and examples in the archive.