A few days ago, I stumbled across a fascinating article by Italo Vignoli on The Document Foundation blog, titled “An artificially complex XML schema as a lock-in tool.” It caught my eye because it tackles an issue I've seen play out repeatedly throughout my career—vendor lock-in disguised within technical standards.
We've all encountered XML (Extensible Markup Language), the backbone of cross-platform data interchange, praised for its clarity, simplicity, and universality. I've worked on numerous projects, from healthcare to government contracts, and XML was always there, quietly ensuring compatibility and seamless data exchange. But as Vignoli points out, XML’s openness doesn't always translate into freedom—especially when it comes to document formats.
The crux of his argument revolves around Microsoft's Office Open XML (OOXML), the underlying format for the familiar DOCX, XLSX, and PPTX files. On paper, OOXML seems open enough: it's XML-based, standardized, and widely adopted. Yet, beneath its open facade lies an intentionally convoluted schema—bloated with deeply nested tags, obscure naming conventions, and thousands of optional or abstract elements. And here’s the kicker: the official specification runs to over 8,000 pages!
Let me share a vivid analogy from Vignoli's article that really clarified this issue for me. Imagine a public railway: the tracks are open to everyone, but the leading train manufacturer imposes an insanely complicated control system. Yes, anyone could theoretically build a compatible train, but the complexity ensures only the original manufacturer can feasibly do it. Passengers remain unaware until fares rise or service quality drops—and by then, they're trapped.
This is precisely what's happening with OOXML. Documents may look identical onscreen, but their hidden complexity makes third-party implementations prohibitively difficult. Vignoli demonstrates this starkly by comparing OOXML to the vendor-neutral OpenDocument Format (ODF), used by LibreOffice. To illustrate: writing a simple sentence like “To be, or not to be” generates a concise 32-line XML file in ODF. In OOXML, it expands to 41 lines—breaking words into numerous tags and embedding multiple proprietary namespaces. Scaling this up, the full text of Hamlet balloons from roughly 5,600 lines in ODF to an astonishing 93,000+ lines in OOXML. That complexity isn't accidental; it's strategic.
I've seen this first-hand. Years ago, I worked on a document migration project for a government client. We started with thousands of DOCX files, and converting them reliably into another format felt like defusing a bomb. Every subtle update from Microsoft risked breaking our carefully reverse-engineered code, costing countless hours and frustration. Many colleagues echoed a sentiment of resignation: "We're stuck; what else can we do?"
Microsoft argues that OOXML’s complexity stems from needing to support extensive legacy features and compatibility. There's truth in that; backward compatibility is challenging. But does it really justify an 87,000-line markup overhead for Hamlet? Not likely. Instead, this complexity functions as a "soft" lock-in, quietly discouraging migration to other tools and subtly reinforcing dependency on Microsoft's ecosystem.
Journalists and academics have noted similar trends. A Reuters report from way back in 2007 already highlighted concerns about OOXML’s complexity, calling it "artificially complicated." XDA Developers recently echoed these concerns, reinforcing that complexity prevents interoperability and fosters dependency.
What's encouraging, however, is how governments are waking up to this issue. Denmark recently announced it’s shifting public infrastructure from Microsoft 365 to LibreOffice, specifically citing the need to reduce vulnerability and foster innovation. Schleswig-Holstein in Germany is doing the same, migrating 30,000 public-sector PCs to open standards. They understand something crucial: digital sovereignty requires open, transparent, and genuinely interoperable document formats.
When formats remain genuinely open and manageable—like ODF—they empower users, developers, and governments alike. They ensure you retain control over your data. They promote competition, innovation, and accessibility. I’ve learned that embracing open standards isn’t just a technical decision; it’s about preserving autonomy in an increasingly monopolized digital landscape.
So, the next time you're choosing software or a document format for a project, look beyond mere compatibility. Question the complexity beneath the surface. Ask yourself: "Am I inadvertently locking myself (or my organization) into an ecosystem where my data could someday become inaccessible?"
Remember, complexity should serve content, not vendors.