Why 'complex' is the new scapegoat for failures in business and politics

The Overuse of "Complex"—and the Perils of Being "Undercomplex"

On a day when you've got nothing better to do, you might as well get worked up about the state of the news—not just the content (though that's bad enough), but the way it's delivered. You could even spend a moment seething over individual words that have been so overused they've lost all meaning. First on the list of terms we urgently need to scrutinize is the seemingly endless variations of that ever-challenging word: complex.

Our chancellor would rather not take a stance on the U.S. intervention in Venezuela—a violation of international law—because, as he puts it, "the legal situation is complex."Die Zeit praises Taylor Swift's feminism, arguing that "labeling female artists as either progressive or regressive fails to do justice to the complexity of life." German Rail, meanwhile, refuses to provide printed timetable details with the excuse: "Validity periods are too complex to display."

But nowhere does the specter of complexity loom larger than in the world of business. IKEA, that impossible furniture empire, is cutting 8,000 jobs, explaining: "We've become too complex in a retail environment that demands speed and agility." A senior banking regulator tells Handelsblatt that "regulation in Germany has grown too complex." The financial paper Cash informs us: "Pension planning is too complex to be offered as a mass savings scheme." Even the Federal Ministry of Health admits: "Let's be honest: Many of the government's digital services are too complex for citizens to use."

In global politics, too, the K-question—the Komplexitätsfrage, or "complexity question"—often brings progress to a halt. "Escorting oil tankers in the Gulf: complex and highly risky," we're told, from Antenne Düsseldorf to the FAZ to the Traunstein Tagblatt. Then there's Biogena CEO Albert Schmidbauer warning: "The topic of micronutrients is complex." Over at inside digital, they fret about German taxpayers: "Sure, the government's Elster tax portal works, but it's far from user-friendly—most people find the software too complex." And if you're just trying to unwind, even leisure activities can feel overwhelming. One Reddit user pleads: "Everything I want to work toward is too complex for me. Please suggest something simple."

So is it any wonder we act like fools, stare at our smartphones, order Pizza con Wurstel at the Italian place, and mistake the likes of Merz, Dobrindt, and the rest for a democratic government? The world has simply become too complex.

Of course, there are some things so wrong that even the opposite is ridiculous. In this case, that opposite is a favorite accusation: undercomplex. It's the go-to critique for anything that doesn't fit someone's worldview.

Take Germany's "war readiness." Marion Schiefer, the CDU's self-described expert on "internal security, law, criminal justice, victim protection, constitutional defense, and extremism," declares: "Before Russia's invasion of Ukraine, the protection of critical infrastructure in Germany was organized in a way that was, frankly, undercomplex." Or consider Dr. Rebekka Reinhard, who opens her book The Future Isn't a Men's Club with: "A woman, a human. With everything that entails: a job, a family, health. Sounds simple—almost undercomplex."

When Trump demands military support in the Strait of Hormuz, Focus concedes: "You might call it undercomplex. But it is the U.S. president's position—and at least he doesn't change his mind every hour." (Because, well, he's Trump. He can get away with it.)

Not even Banksy is safe. After his art stunt in Stuttgart, the Stuttgarter Nachrichten asks: "Undercomplex or a masterstroke? Farewell to the shredded painting." From the art world to everyday life—like the dying businesses in Cloppenburg's pedestrian zone—the Oldenburgische Volkszeitung observes: "Blame the lack of parking? That's an undercomplex take."

So there you have it: damned if it's too complex, damned if it's not complex enough. Either way, we're all just trying to keep up.

The overuse of the word "complex" is itself woefully undercomplex—largely because the term is simply equated with "complicated." Yet in fields beyond medicine and architecture, complex describes a system that is open to its environment, dynamic, and shaped by countless interacting elements and relationships, one that resists entropy through feedback loops. It is a self-organizing phenomenon, ultimately neither fully predictable nor controllable. Yes, that is truly complex. Or, to put it simply, we could just call it alive.

Everything that lives is complex. A machine, at best, can only be complicated. But when it comes to a society, an artificial intelligence, or even a text, the line between the complicated and the complex grows precarious.

The mass deployment of "complex"—or its dismissive counterpart, "undercomplex"—is often just rhetoric: "Complex" is the problem I can't—or won't—get a handle on; "undercomplex" is always what others say or do. In a world where every problem is too complex and every proposed solution too simplistic, we should expect political movements to emerge with a clear agenda: "complexity reduction."

Living in a complex world, after all, is damn exhausting—and even more so when we try to navigate it with reason and morality. Beyond the empty rhetorical posturing, the dual fear of both the complex and the oversimplified reveals something deeper: our fading ability to distinguish between them.

When legal frameworks, train schedules, corporate identities, or public information become so complex that they defy transparency and accountability, the dialectic between life's inherent complexity and the intricate rules we create to govern it grows obscured. And with that, our clarity fades too.