Disorder is the natural state of everything. I've seen it happen in products, teams, companies, codebases, and individuals. I’m not talking some dramatic implosion. None of the sort. Just a gradual slide into irrelevance.
Products fall behind customer expectations. Teams spend more time in alignment meetings than shipping. Companies lose track of why they exist. Codebases become "legacy" monuments to technical debt. People skip the gym and avoid difficult conversations, choosing comfort and false harmony over health and clarity.
That's entropy in action. Entropy doesn't announce itself. It's always there in the background, turning everything to shit unless actively fought. Your codebase gets messier unless you prune it. Your processes get heavier unless you simplify them. Your body breaks down unless you rebuild it.
Physics calls this the second law of thermodynamics. It states that entropy always increases in a closed system. It's not just a law of nature; it's the default state of everything.
Fighting entropy is a miserable undertaking. You're debugging code at 6 PM Friday while friends are at happy hour. You're dragging yourself to the gym in a snowstorm. You're having that uncomfortable conversation with a CEO. You're the only one questioning why this process takes six approvals.
Most people don't fight because it hurts. That's why dysfunction is everywhere. The few who do fight—entrepreneurs, athletes, artists, change agents—might be masochists. Or maybe they just can't stand watching things rot.
Here's what makes it worse: in human systems, standing still accelerates decay. In physics, entropy and stasis are opposites. But in organizations, both lead to disorder. When you stop moving forward, you're not maintaining position. You're sliding backward while the world moves on.
In companies, decay disguises itself as prudence. As "rigorous process." As endless analysis that prevents decision-making. Nobody's being malicious. They think they're being careful. But when the incentives reward not failing over succeeding, entropy finds a way in.
That's how Kodak died holding 1,100 digital imaging patents. They were so careful about protecting film profits they missed digital photography. That's how Blockbuster passed on buying Netflix for $50 million. They couldn't risk disrupting their late fee revenue model. They weren't stupid. They were comfortable in their stasis, unable to imagine being unseated.
This is why innovation is the only real antidote to entropy in organizations. But innovation doesn't come from innovation labs or hackathons or strategic offsites.
Real innovation comes from agitation. Someone gets pissed off enough to fix something broken. Jobs thought existing phones were garbage, so he built the iPhone. Two guys couldn't afford rent, had an air mattress, and invented Airbnb. The anger comes first. The breakthrough follows.
Fighting entropy through innovation is exhausting. You'll fail repeatedly before anything works. But here's what I've learned from being part of innovations that both succeeded and failed: entropy wins 100% of the battles that YOU don't fight.
Yes, entropy is the default state. But how much we let it dominate is our choice. I try to fight it daily—in my team, my company, my life. Not because I'll know I’ll win. Entropy always wins eventually.
But not today. Not on my watch.
Tomorrow, the fight starts again.