The Price of Standing Still

My parents built their business from nothing. Two entrepreneurs who saw an opportunity and grabbed it. They didn't ask permission. They didn't fill out dozens of forms or wait for regulatory approval. They just started. That was the norm just after World War II, when the GIs returned from years of fighting.

Years later, after my father retired, he made an observation that stays with me. "If all these current rules and regulations had existed when we started," he said, "I never would have begun."

That comment haunts me now as I watch organizations everywhere make the same mistake: choosing protection over progress.

The Empty Chairs at Rotary

Walk into any Rotary club meeting and you'll see it immediately. Gray hair. Familiar faces. Conversations about "the way we've always done things." Meanwhile, the 35-year-old entrepreneurs who should be sitting in those chairs are networking on LinkedIn and raising money through crowdfunding. They’re volunteering on the weekends. Just not through Rotary.

The disconnect isn't accidental. It's protectionism in disguise.

Rotary has a membership crisis. The average age keeps climbing while young professionals stay away. But instead of asking why, clubs double down on tradition. Hoping for a magic bullet to fix a fundamental flaw, Rotary International invents new causes.

"Our weekly lunch meetings at the country club work fine," longtime members insist. Never mind that entrepreneurs can't (or won't) abandon their startups for two-hour midday events. Some clubs treat Robert's Rules like sacred text, turning simple decisions into parliamentary marathons. New members suggest fresh fundraising ideas—maybe a 5K run or food truck festival—but get shut down with "We've always done the pancake breakfast."

"Why change what isn't broken?" becomes the rallying cry. Except it IS broken. Membership drops. Long-time members quite literally die off. The result? Clubs shrink. Impact diminishes. And the next generation finds other ways to serve.

My parents understood this instinctively. They constantly adapted and innovated. My mom had the ideas and my dad figured out how to make them happen. They didn't do it because they loved change, but because they loved building a legacy more than their comfort zone.

The Bureaucracy Shield

Government agencies make this worse through regulations designed for yesterday's economy. Taxi commissions fight ride-sharing. Hotel licensing boards battle short-term rentals. Food trucks face permits written for brick-and-mortar restaurants.

The pattern never changes: established interests lobby for rules that protect their position. Bureaucrats implement these rules and resist updates because their expertise becomes worthless if systems evolve.

You need government permission to braid hair in 16 states. Interior designers must pass exams in three states. These rules don't protect consumers—they protect existing businesses from competition.

Small businesses get caught in the crossfire. They want to innovate but face regulatory obstacles designed by and for established players. A young entrepreneur with a brilliant idea hits walls built by competitors who got there first.

This is exactly what my father meant. The barriers that exist today—the licensing requirements, the compliance costs, the bureaucratic maze—would have killed their dream before it started. They succeeded because they could focus on customers instead of doing compliance paperwork.

The Innovation Tax

This thinking creates what economists call "the innovation tax"—the cost of maintaining outdated systems instead of embracing better ones.

Rotary clubs waste energy defending traditions rather than expanding impact. Small businesses pour resources into fighting change instead of leading it. Government agencies create compliance costs that favor large corporations over scrappy startups. Unions protect work rules that make their employers uncompetitive.

Everyone loses. Communities miss fresh ideas. Consumers pay higher prices for inferior products or service. Workers lose jobs to offshore competitors. Young talent goes elsewhere.

My parents paid no innovation tax in their early days. They could experiment, fail, adjust, and try again. No regulatory approval needed. No committee meetings. No "we've always done it this way." Just pure entrepreneurial energy focused on solving problems.

Breaking Free

Change requires uncomfortable truths. Your organization's glory days might be over. Your business model might be obsolete. Your expertise might be less valuable than you think. Your job protections might be killing your job.

But admission opens possibilities. Rotary clubs that embrace new ideas attract younger members. Small businesses that adopt new technology often thrive. Government agencies that streamline processes foster economic growth. Unions that focus on training and productivity can become partners in success.

The key is replacing "We've always done it this way" with "What would work better." "What's the goal." It's scary. Change usually is. But the alternative—slow decline while protecting yesterday's solutions—is scarier.

My father's words echo every time I see another organization choose comfort over progress. The entrepreneurs of tomorrow need the same freedom my parents had: the freedom to start, to fail, to adapt, and to build something meaningful.

The world keeps moving. The question is whether we'll move with it or get left behind defending ground that no longer matters.