The Law – Before and After

One of my all-time favorite stories is Franz Kafka’s Before the Law. It sounds better in the original German: Vor dem Gesetz. It is one of those stories that reveal a new treasure every time you reread it. Today, I can’t read it without thinking of Machine Law.

The anti-hero of this short story wants to enter the Law, but is held back by a guard, who also warns him that he is only the first, and least intimidating, gatekeeper of many. This surprises our hero:

“The man from the country had not expected such difficulties; the law is after all meant to be accessible to everybody at all times, he thinks, but now as he looks more closely at the doorkeeper in his fur coat, his large pointed nose and his long thin black Tatar beard, he decides that he would actually prefer to wait until he receives permission to enter.”

The law should be accessible to everybody at all times. How can you follow rules, plan your life, if you don’t know them? Or if you can’t foresee the consequences. However, that is exactly what is going on with our society. We made our rules and systems so complex that players in the system cannot oversee the whole system. That would not be such a big problem if the government took on itself the duty to make the rules accessible, and the consequences of these rules for specific cases foreseeable, for everyone.

In Dutch administrative law, there is a principle that government officials are held to honor, called the principle of legal certainty. This principle, however, does not apply to legislators. So, to tackle this problem at the core, we need to reverse the burden of complexity to the state. This would put many bookkeepers and lawyers out of work—or make them work for the government. And that’s a good thing. Because now, if you can’t afford one, you are always behind the state in the rules game.

I asked Claude to illustrate this with an analogy, starting with the situation of a child and household rules. It came up with this:

Imagine you are a child, and your bedtime is 7 pm (you are still very young). Now over time, your parents’ simple bedtime rules expanded like this:

Your bedtime is 7 PM on weekdays, unless it’s during Daylight Saving Time, in which case it shifts to 7:23 PM. On weekends, bedtime is “somewhere before 9 PM,” but this window adjusts based on your behavior coefficient calculated from a proprietary formula involving chore completion percentages and tone-of-voice metrics from the past 37 hours.

You must eat your vegetables before dessert, but “vegetables” are redefined monthly according to a rotating schedule in Appendix C of the Household Nutrition Guidelines. Green beans count as vegetables on Mondays, Wednesdays, and alternate Fridays, but are classified as “questionable legumes” requiring special permission forms on other days.

“Bad behavior” warrants penalties, with the definition of “bad” encompassing an ever-expanding universe of infractions including “excessive sighing,” “improper sock alignment,” and “unauthorized eyebrow raising.” The complete list exists in a 217-page manual that is simultaneously “always available upon request” yet perpetually “being updated.”

Penalties are determined by cross-referencing the Transgression Severity Index with the Monthly Privilege Matrix, but special exceptions apply during lunar eclipses or when visitors are present.

The consequence? You, the child, stop trying to understand the system entirely. Instead, you either:
– Live in constant anxiety, never knowing when you’re breaking an unknowable rule
– Ignore all rules completely, accepting random punishments as inevitable
– Develop elaborate workarounds that comply technically but defeat the purpose

This is precisely what happens when legal systems become excessively complex. Citizens cannot reasonably navigate their obligations, creating either paralysis, rebellion, or cynical compliance. The law transforms from a framework for fair social operation into an incomprehensible labyrinth that punishes the unwary and rewards those who can afford to exploit its complexity.

True rule of law requires that those subject to it can understand what is expected of them without needing a team of specialists to translate their obligations.

In a household situation, the above scenario is obviously absurd. In real life, we think it’s perfectly fine to complicate the rules indefinitely, to such an extent that we need bookkeepers, lawyers and years of education ourselves to navigate the system. But is it? I don’t think so. A new principle is needed. The burden of complexity should land with the rule-setter. So the choice is there: you can still make things more complex, but the services offered should be on par. Better yet, don’t overcomplicate in the first place.

There should be guides, welcoming you at the gates, handing you a plan, snacks for the way—and explanations at every landmark. “On our left, we see a relic of the old Law, we also like to call it ‘The Maze’. Nobody uses it anymore, but we revisit it regularly as a reminder of what happens when there is no penalty on making things excessively complicated. And whenever a legislator, policymaker, or lawyer proposes a rule that overcomplicates things, we drop them in the maze without food or drinks. None of them are ever seen again.”

And yes. This guide is there for you, and you only, tailored to your needs.