The Compute Strait: Why Scarce AI Will Reward Those Who Waste Less of It

What happens to the price of intelligence when the machines that make it are sold out for two years?

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Two numbers about artificial intelligence are moving in opposite directions. The price of a given level of machine intelligence is falling faster than the price of almost anything economists have tracked. The capacity that produces it is so scarce that the world’s largest cloud provider says it has little left to sell before 2028.

Both are true, and the space between them is where much of the next decade’s AI economics will be settled. Intelligence is getting cheaper by the unit. Whether it gets cheaper by the job depends on how much of it each job wastes. Those who secure the most compute will have real advantages. A second advantage, open to many more players, will go to those who need the least of it for each piece of useful work.

The argument of this essay is simple. AI now has two scarcity problems. The first is physical: chips, memory, power and the capacity commitments that bundle them. The second is economic: useful intelligence can be too expensive at the level of a workflow, because agents burn tokens re-reading, re-reasoning and retrying. Both point to the same destination, which is avoidable compute spending. Do not repeatedly rent what your system already knows. In marketing I have called this principle Never Pay Twice. Applied to AI, it suggests that India’s best move is not to bid harder in the capacity auction, but to change the unit of competition.

1  

Sold out until 2028

On 23 October, Amazon’s chief executive, Andy Jassy, told an Andreessen Horowitz podcast that AWS capacity for 2026 is sold out, 2027 is largely sold out, and a good chunk of 2028 is gone too. AWS keeps some capacity back for on-demand customers and for its EC2 and Bedrock services, but the big blocks are committed. This from a company that expects capital expenditure of about $220 billion in 2026, roughly $600 million a day, and whose chief executive said it could invest a lot more without it being a bad use of capital. He also said AWS would not squeeze its existing customers to make room for AI labs willing to pay almost anything.

The statement needs reading carefully. “Sold out” here describes forward commitments. It does not mean a developer cannot make an API call this afternoon. It means the large blocks of capacity, the ones that decide who can train and serve at scale, have been bought years ahead by those willing to commit early and in size. When capacity is sold years in advance, the price that matters is not the list price per token. It is access.

That changes the question a company or a country should ask. For three years the question was which model to use. The next question is how much capacity a given amount of useful work requires, because capacity has become the constraint and a forward market has formed around it. That is a question about engineering and design as much as about procurement.

Two scarcities. Physical compute is scarce because chips, memory, power and grid connections cannot be built as fast as demand grows. Useful intelligence is scarce because, at the level of a completed workflow, it can still cost too much to deploy widely. The first is largely beyond any one company’s control. The second is largely within it.

2  

The two prices of AI

The other number comes from Epoch AI. In The plunging price of thought, published on 22 September, Epoch estimates that the cost of reaching a given level of performance on five benchmarks covering mathematics, science and games of skill has fallen about 47% a quarter since 2023, or 13 times a year. On one science benchmark, the cost of a given score fell from about $0.30 to $0.0004 a question in under 18 months: a 725-fold fall. Epoch puts the pace ahead of the historic declines in the prices of electricity, compute, batteries and DNA sequencing.

The detail matters as much as the headline. The decline is steepest just after a level of performance first becomes state of the art, at about 66% a quarter, and slows to about 32% a quarter two years later. Epoch measures the cheapest model able to reach a fixed score, not the newest model, and its authors note that this assumes a user who keeps switching to the cheapest capable model, which real users rarely do. On SWE-bench Verified, the benchmark in Epoch’s set closest to agentic software work, the fall has averaged about 28% a quarter: steep, but roughly half the headline.

The price that is plunging is the price of yesterday’s capability. The price of today’s capability, consumed at today’s volumes, is a different number. A buyer who wants the newest model pays the premium that comes with it. A workflow that takes more steps consumes more tokens. And the inputs are getting dearer: Epoch itself notes that the AI boom is now powerful enough to raise the prices of the chips, power and even the electricians it needs.

So AI has two prices. Fixed capability is getting cheaper at a rate without precedent. Compute, the physical capacity that delivers any capability at all, is getting dearer and harder to secure. In When AI Gets Cheaper, What Gets More Valuable? I asked which side of the first price a business sits on. This essay is about the second, and about what sits between them: the cost of a completed piece of work.

Three propositions need to be kept apart. The cost of a fixed capability is falling: that is measured. The cost of increasingly ambitious agentic workflows may rise: that is a forecast. The share of that spending which could be avoided without losing quality is unknown: that is the opportunity this essay proposes to test. The third does not depend on the second proving right.

 

Price Direction Status
Fixed capability (cost of a given benchmark score) Falling about 47% a quarter since 2023 Measured (Epoch AI, September 2026)
Capacity (chips, memory, power, data-centre space) Scarce; large blocks sold forward into 2028 Reported (AWS, October 2026; IEA, 2026)
An increasingly ambitious agentic workflow Forecast to rise more than fivefold through 2028 Forecast (Gartner, August 2026)
The avoidable share of that spending Unknown Hypothesis to test (this essay)

Figure 1. Two prices, and the two questions between them

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The compute strait

In Every Business Has a Strait, I argued that profits pool at choke points: narrow passages in valuable flows, where the alternatives cost enough that the passage acquires power out of all proportion to its size. Physical compute now has one.

The International Energy Agency’s updated outlook sees electricity consumption by data centres roughly doubling from 485 TWh in 2025 to about 950 TWh in 2030, around 3% of global demand, with consumption by AI-focused data centres tripling. The same report says a shortage of high-bandwidth memory, the specialised memory packaged with AI chips, developed over the preceding six months and is expected to persist through at least the end of 2027. The IEA’s 2025 report had already estimated that around 20% of planned data-centre projects could be delayed by strain on grids. And the money has outgrown balance sheets. The IEA notes that the largest technology companies spent more than $400 billion on capital expenditure in 2025, expects a further 75% rise in 2026, and observes that the build-out now depends on capital markets and investor sentiment.

A strait does not have to close to set the price. It only has to be narrow. Models improve every quarter. Grids, transformers, turbines, memory plants and financing move on a timescale of years. Even the IEA, which expects the build-out to continue, says bottlenecks across the value chain are making the most aggressive near-term scenarios less likely.

The strait sits in the physical world, and no single company or country can widen it quickly. But the same report makes a second observation that matters more for what follows. The energy used per AI task has been falling by at least an order of magnitude a year. Yet newer uses, including reasoning and agentic tasks, can consume hundreds or thousands of times more energy per query than simple text generation. The strait is in the hardware. Much of the waste is in the software.

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The intelligence waste problem

In August, Gartner forecast that inference costs per agentic workflow will rise more than fivefold through 2028, even as the price of foundation-model tokens keeps falling. Gartner calls this the inference paradox. Its analysts say that sending a task to an agentic reasoning model raises inference costs at least fivefold compared with a basic chatbot exchange, and often far more as the task gets harder. This is a forecast from an econometric model, not an observation. And a rising cost per workflow is not, by itself, waste. A workflow that costs five times as much because it does ten times as much work is good economics. The forecast cannot tell us how much of the rise is ambition and how much is waste. Gartner’s own prescription points at the second: it warns that defaulting to generic autonomous intelligence produces unbounded costs, and argues for tiering inference instead.

Measured evidence of waste exists, though only in one domain. A Stanford-led study of coding agents found that input tokens, the context sent to the model again and again, rather than output tokens drive their cost. Runs on the same task varied by up to 30 times in total tokens, and spending more tokens did not buy more accuracy: accuracy often peaked at intermediate cost. The mechanism behind those numbers is visible in any agent log.

An agent re-reads: at every step it re-sends the same context, the same policy document, the same customer history, the same tool descriptions. It re-reasons, working out from scratch what the system worked out yesterday for a near-identical case. It calls a frontier model to check a date or add up a column, work that a line of code would do exactly and almost free. And when a step fails, it retries the chain.

Marketing has a name for this pattern. In The Profit You Already Own I described the reacquisition tax: brands paying advertising platforms to reach customers they already have, because nothing in their own systems kept those customers’ attention. Agents pay the same tax on intelligence: they rent reasoning again for what the system already knows. The cause is the same in both cases. Without memory, every interaction starts from zero, and starting from zero is billed by the unit. Never Pay Twice, applied to AI, means a system should pay for an inference once and keep the result for as long as it remains valid.

How much agentic spending is avoidable? At the level of a real workflow, nobody yet knows. The best measured evidence comes from routing. RouteLLM, built by researchers at Berkeley and LMSYS, trained routers that send each query to either a strong or a weak model. Compared with sending everything to GPT-4, the routers cut costs by over 85% on a conversational benchmark, 45% on a knowledge test and 35% on a mathematics test, while keeping 95% of GPT-4’s performance. Those are real measurements, but of single questions on benchmarks, with one routing decision and no memory, caching or code. They are not measurements of multi-step agents doing live work.

The avoidable share of agentic spending is a hypothesis, not a finding. It can be tested cheaply. Take a month of logged traces for one workflow. Replay them through a system that checks code and memory first, uses a small model by default and escalates to a frontier model only when needed. Compare the result with the original on a held-out sample, on cost per completed task, error rate and human intervention. If the hybrid cannot cut cost per completed task by at least a third without raising errors, the thesis is weak for that workflow. If it cuts it by three-quarters, as the routing benchmarks suggest is possible, the waste is large and the case for removing it is larger.

Cost per completed task. Total spend on a task, including inference, compute, human review and rework, divided by the number of tasks that reached a verified, correct end state. In From Rented to Owned, I argued that the comparison that matters is total cost per completed outcome; for AI work, the unit is the task. A cheap call that leaves the job unfinished is not cheap.

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The frugal intelligence architecture

The alternative to an agent that burns tokens is not an agent starved of them. It is a system built in layers, in which each request travels only as far as it must.

  • Code first. Dates, sums, rules, eligibility and state are deterministic. Software handles them exactly, instantly and for almost nothing, so a model should never be asked to do work it can hand to a function.
  • Memory next. What the system already knows, such as yesterday’s answer, the decision reached for a similar case, the customer’s history or a document already summarised, should be looked up rather than re-derived. The cheapest token is the one never generated.
  • Small models for routine language. Classifying, extracting, routing and drafting standard replies are within the reach of small, cheap models that run on modest hardware.
  • Frontier models for hard cases. Ambiguity, novel reasoning and high-stakes judgement deserve the best model available. Used only for the cases that need it, the frontier stops being a cost problem.

Figure 2. The frugal intelligence ladder: each request stops at the cheapest layer that can complete it correctly

*Relative costs are illustrative assumptions reflecting typical price gaps between model tiers, not measurements.

Every request should stop at the cheapest layer that can complete it correctly. The order is the point. Memory sits above the model because a lookup is cheaper and more consistent than an inference. Code sits above both because exactness costs nothing.

Memory carries its own risk. A customer’s eligibility, a policy clause, a payment status or a student’s misconception can change. A cached answer may be cheaper than a fresh inference and more expensive than both if it triggers a wrong action. Reuse what remains valid; recompute what has changed. That requires memory with provenance, so every entry traces to a source; versions, so a changed rule replaces the old one rather than sitting beside it; permissions, so one person’s record is not everyone’s; and expiry, so a stale fact retires itself. In From Rented to Owned, I argued that memory earns its value only by improving the next decision. Here it also has to know when it no longer applies. Routing needs the same discipline: evidence that the cheaper path completed the work correctly, not only that it was cheaper.

Frontier-only Small-only Hybrid
Cost per task (assumed index) 100 2–5 5–15
Completion Highest on hard cases Falls on ambiguous or novel cases Close to frontier, if routing is accurate
Errors Few reasoning errors; can still slip on arithmetic and state that code gets exact Confident mistakes on hard cases Fewest, when code owns the deterministic steps and hard cases escalate
Latency Slowest, especially with long reasoning Fastest Fast for most requests; slow for the few escalated
Human intervention Low High and unpredictable Low, concentrated on cases the router flags

Figure 3. Three ways to build the same workflow

The cost index is an assumption (frontier-only = 100), not a measurement. Section 7 works through two cases.

The hybrid has one weak point: the router. A router that sends hard cases to the small model produces the worst of both, a cheap call and a failed task. That is why a hybrid must be judged by cost per completed task, not cost per call. Small-only systems look best on an invoice and worst on outcomes. Frontier-only systems look safest and cost the most. A hybrid wins only if routing is measured, and the measurement is part of the architecture, not an afterthought.

There is also a scale effect. Memory, caching, evaluation and routing are expensive to build and cheap to share. A large enterprise can build them for itself; a small firm, a school or a district hospital cannot. In The Dormant Goldmine, I argued that work no single participant can afford to operate becomes viable when many share one factory. Frugal intelligence is the same kind of problem. Its components are infrastructure, and infrastructure is cheapest when pooled.

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India’s different race

A country can respond to scarce AI in three ways.

Strategy Aim Measured in Constraint Best fit
Compute sovereignty Own enough capacity at home GPUs, megawatts Capital, power, imported chips Countries that can finance capacity at scale
Model sovereignty Train national foundation models Capability, language coverage Talent, data, training compute Where language, culture or security require it
Intelligence affordability Deliver useful AI at the lowest cost per task Cost per completed task Engineering discipline, shared infrastructure Vast, price-sensitive, multilingual demand

Figure 4. Three national strategies for scarce AI

India is pursuing all three. The IndiaAI Mission’s shared compute pool passed 45,000 GPUs by June 2026. The government told the Lok Sabha in August that it had sanctioned 93.18 lakh GPU-hours across 237 projects; sanctioned is the operative word, since an allocation is not a measure of use. Access is subsidised, at an average of about Rs 65 per GPU-hour and Rs 92 for an H100. Twenty indigenous model proposals, twelve large and eight small, have been selected for support. These are serious commitments. They are also small against the global build-out: India hosts an estimated 3–4% of the world’s data-centre capacity, a share the electronics ministry describes as indicative rather than precise.

None of the frugal argument is new to Indian policy. The Economic Survey 2025-26, tabled in January, argued for a bottom-up approach to AI built on application-specific small models and frugal innovation, rather than replicating the capital-intensive frontier race. On strategy, India was already there.

What is new is the price signal. In January, frugality read as prudence: a sensible stance for a country short of capital, power and chips. Ten months later, the largest cloud provider has sold its capacity years forward, memory is short into 2027, and the cost of ambitious agentic workflows is forecast to multiply. In that world, frugality stops being a constraint to manage and becomes an advantage to press. For a country with a small share of the world’s compute, halving the compute needed per task does the work of doubling capacity, and it can be done in months rather than years.

That is what changing the unit of competition means. The compute race is measured in GPUs and megawatts; the model race in parameters and benchmark scores. The race India is best placed to win is measured in rupees per completed task, across a billion people and many languages. The 93.18 lakh GPU-hours already sanctioned would go several times further if the work they serve were built frugally from the start.

Why should India be better at this than anyone else? Caching, routing and small models are not Indian inventions, and every large AI provider is investing in them. India’s possible advantage lies in the combination: price sensitivity that makes cost per task the binding constraint rather than a line item; multilingual demand that rewards small, specialised models; applications at population scale, where a fraction of a rupee saved per task becomes a large total; and a record of building shared digital public infrastructure. No other large market has all four pressing on it at once.

That points to one concrete proposal. IndiaAI should publish comparative cost-per-completed-task benchmarks for Indian public-service workflows, reporting quality, error rates, latency and human intervention alongside cost. Progress today is reported in GPUs onboarded, GPU-hours sanctioned and model benchmark scores. Those measure inputs. A benchmark for a grievance resolved, a form checked or a lesson completed to a stated standard would measure what the inputs buy, and would turn the Economic Survey’s frugal-AI philosophy into a measurable national programme. What a country measures, its builders optimise.

The supporting pieces are less glamorous than a supercomputer: shared memory and caching services, open evaluation sets for Indian workflows and languages, and small-model serving at population scale. Each is infrastructure that no single start-up can justify and every start-up needs. Subsidising access to compute is necessary. Building the infrastructure, benchmarks and incentives that make every unit of compute accomplish more is the larger prize.

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The price of a completed job

Two cases show the arithmetic. Every price below is an assumption, chosen to reflect the typical gap between frontier and small models rather than any vendor’s list: $5 per million input tokens and $25 per million output tokens for a frontier model, and $0.10 and $0.40 for a small one.

A tutoring hour. An AI tutor works through one hour of practice with a student: thirty exchanges. The frontier-only tutor re-sends the lesson and the full history at every turn (assumed at 20,000 input and 1,500 output tokens a turn). The small-only tutor does the same, with the same token counts, on a small model. The hybrid lets code mark three answers outright and keeps a compact student record in memory, so that a small model handles twenty-four turns with 4,000 input and 500 output tokens each. It sends three hard turns, the ones where a misconception must be diagnosed, to the frontier, each with 6,000 input tokens (the student record plus the exchange in question) and 1,500 output tokens. When the AI cannot complete, a human teacher steps in, at an assumed $2 an intervention. Safeguarding concerns go to a person in every architecture.

Frontier-only Small-only Hybrid
AI cost per hour $4.13 $0.08 $0.22
Hours completed (assumed) 85% 60% 83%
Teacher interventions (assumed) 5% 25% 7%
Cost per completed hour $4.97 $0.96 $0.43

Figure 5. One tutoring hour, three architectures (all inputs assumed)

Hybrid AI cost = 24 × (4,000 × $0.10 + 500 × $0.40) ÷ 1 million + 3 × (6,000 × $5 + 1,500 × $25) ÷ 1 million = $0.22. Cost per completed hour = (AI cost + interventions × $2) ÷ completion rate. Completion and intervention rates are assumptions, not results; a real comparison would measure learning, not only completed hours.

The cheapest call is not the cheapest job. The small-only tutor costs about a third as much per hour as the hybrid and more than twice as much per completed hour. The frontier-only tutor costs about eleven times as much as the hybrid for a similar completion rate. At a crore tutoring hours a month, the gap between the first and last columns is about $45 million a month.

Living Emails at billions of opens. A living email is composed when it is opened, not when it is sent, so the price, stock level, score or status it shows is current. The naive way to build one at scale is to call a model at every open. Assume 3,000 input and 300 output tokens per open. On the small model that is about $420 per million opens; on the frontier, about $22,500. At a billion opens a month, that is $420,000 or $22.5 million, before the second problem: a model call adds seconds to an experience that must load in a fraction of one.

The frugal design moves inference away from the open. Models write content in advance, when something changes: say 10,000 new items a day on a frontier model and ten variants of each on a small one. Code decides overnight, from customer data, who should see what. At open, the email reads the latest values from a database and renders them. The open becomes a lookup. Where an email client cannot render live content, a static fallback carries the same data, and consent and security rules apply to every action.

A model at every open Live in data
Inference runs when Someone opens Something changes
Monthly inference cost only $0.42 million (small) to $22.5 million (frontier) About $8,000
Cost grows with Audience Content
Latency at open Seconds Milliseconds

Figure 6. A billion opens a month, two designs (all inputs assumed)

Both designs are assumed to deliver the same freshness and function. The comparison covers inference only; database reads, rendering, caching, evaluation and fallbacks for clients that cannot show live content are additional costs in both.

Living emails should live in data, not in inference. The email is alive because the data underneath it is live, not because a model rethinks it every time someone looks. Inference runs when something new needs writing; reads run when someone opens. That one decision turns a cost that grows with the audience into a cost that grows with the content. It is the difference between a feature that works in a pilot and one that works across billions of opens.

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How the thesis could fail

The argument rests on claims of different strength, and they should not be bundled together.

Claim Likelihood Why What would lower it
Bottlenecks in memory, power and grids persist through 2027 High Memory shortage expected to last to at least end-2027; AWS capacity committed into 2028 Memory supply recovers early; large cloud providers cut capital spending
The largest buyers get priority access; others face queues or premiums Plausible Big blocks are committed years ahead; on-demand is what remains On-demand capacity stays ample and its prices fall
Everyday cost per task rises for ordinary users Uncertain Forecast for agentic workflows; token prices still falling Measured cost per workflow falls through 2027
A general shortage rations AI for everyone Speculative No sign yet of API access being rationed for ordinary developers Only widespread rationing of inference would raise it

Figure 7. The likelihood ladder

The thesis does not need a general shortage. It needs the first two rungs to hold, and a reason to care about the third. Four failure modes would undo it.

Failure What it would mean What would show it
Efficiency outruns demand Cost per task falls faster than agents multiply tasks, and waste stops mattering Measured cost per agentic workflow falls through 2027; forecasts like Gartner’s are revised down
Overbuild turns to glut Capacity catches up and overshoots; compute becomes cheap and plentiful Rental prices per GPU-hour fall sharply; utilisation of new data centres drops
Financing breaks Capital markets stop funding the build-out; scarcity tightens but demand weakens with it Capital-spending guidance is cut; data-centre debt becomes hard to raise
Small models fail Hybrids cannot match frontier completion on real work; routing errors cost more than they save Replay tests show no gain in cost per completed task over frontier-only

Figure 8. Four ways the thesis fails

Two of these deserve particular weight. A glut would remove the scarcity premium and turn the argument from strategy into housekeeping: waste would still cost money, but it would no longer cost access. And if small models fail on real work, the frugal architecture collapses into frontier-only with extra steps.

Four tests, each answerable by 2028, will decide it:

  • Has commissioned AI capacity lagged announced plans because of power, memory or grid connections, rather than weak demand?
  • Matched workflow cost. On the same workflows, not more ambitious ones, has the fully loaded cost per completed task risen or fallen since 2026, including retries, quality checks and human handling?
  • Hybrid gain. In controlled deployments with a held-out comparison, do hybrid systems complete tasks for a third or less of the frontier-only cost per completed task, at equal completion, error and safety rates?
  • India’s unit. Is India publishing GPU-hours consumed, not only sanctioned, and cost-per-completed-task benchmarks for at least one public-service workflow?

If a frontier-only system reliably completes more work at equal or lower total cost, route to it. If small models need so much supervision that their savings vanish, stop using them for that task. If hybrids win, measure the gap and keep widening it. Frugality is not an ideology. It is an experiment with a P&L and a control group.

If capacity loosens, matched workflow costs fall on their own and hybrids show no gain, the compute strait was a passing squeeze and frugality was only good manners.

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The compute race will be decided by those who can build and finance the most capacity. A second race runs alongside it, and it will be decided by those who need the least capacity for each piece of useful work. The first rewards scale. The second rewards discipline: code before models, memory before inference, small before frontier, and paying once for what the system already knows.

The countries that own the largest compute clusters may dominate the supply of intelligence. The countries that learn to use intelligence most efficiently may capture more of its economic value.

From Rented to Owned: The Two Assets Every Enterprise Must Build in the AI Age

What if the two largest recurring bills in a modern enterprise are rent on assets it could own?

Two invoices reach a chief executive’s desk every month. They come from different departments, are approved by different people and sit on different lines of the P&L. Nobody puts them side by side.

The first comes from marketing. Much of it pays platforms to reach people the company already knows: customers who bought last year and opened emails last quarter, and who must now be found again through an auction, at a price someone else sets. In The Profit You Already Own I called this the reacquisition tax.

The second comes from technology. It pays for intelligence: AI assistants by the seat, model calls by the token, support agents by the resolution. Most of it is priced in dollars, for markets where labour costs many times what it costs in India.

The two invoices have the same shape. Both pay for access to a capability the company does not control. Both must be paid again next month. On their own, neither builds anything the company keeps. The answer is not to stop renting. It is to decide what to rent and what to keep, and the AI era makes that decision newly urgent for both attention and intelligence.

1

 Two decades of renting

For twenty years, renting was the rational choice. Platforms offered reach no single company could build: search intent, social feeds, programmatic exchanges. Software providers offered processing no single company wanted to maintain. Renting bought speed and scale, turned fixed costs into variable ones and let small teams do large things.

Renting and owning were never opposites. A brand can use paid media to find new customers and still build a valuable first-party relationship with them. The trouble starts when renting becomes the default for problems the company could solve itself, such as reaching people it already knows. Rent buys access; on its own, it does not build an asset. The test is what remains when the invoice stops.

In The Intent You Rent Back I traced how brands hand their customers’ intent to adtech and then pay to rent it back. The brand holds the relationship history; the platform holds the signal that makes the history useful. Each year the brand pays again for what it once had.

2

The second rental

AI is arriving priced the same way. Assistants sell for around $20 a seat a month, a price set for the best-paid knowledge workers in rich economies. Model APIs bill per token. Customer-service agents bill per outcome: Intercom’s Fin, the reference most often quoted, charges $0.99 per resolution. These are sensible prices for vendors, and for many buyers the fastest route to capability. But they are set for dollar labour markets. An enterprise in India employing thousands in support, sales or operations faces different arithmetic.

Price is not the only issue, and the risk is not the one usually assumed. The leading model providers do not train on business customers’ data by default; the vendor is not learning the enterprise’s secrets. The risk is that the enterprise forgets. If its context lives only in prompts, chat histories and vendor tools, it must be rebuilt, and paid for again, with every new model, contract or vendor. The AI era risks making enterprises dependent on platforms for intelligence, just as the digital era made them dependent on platforms for attention.

This is not an argument against frontier models. Hard problems need them. But everyday work can be separated from occasional complex reasoning, and a small model is often enough to recognise a promise, track its date and check whether it was kept. Across a whole workforce, that distinction matters more than model rankings. Emerging markets feel it most. Data rules such as India’s DPDP Act reward enterprises that know where their models run and what they did, and the local rails that matter most, from Indian languages and WhatsApp to UPI and GST, are edge cases for global products and the whole job for local ones.

3

 What “owned” means

The word needs care, because neither asset can be owned in the literal sense.

Attention is never owned. A customer’s attention is earned, kept and lost one interaction at a time. What a brand can own is the relationship that earns it: the right to reach the customer directly, the history of what they engaged with, the habit of coming back. Where a partner operates that relationship for the brand, the brand still keeps the data.

Intelligence is not owned by building a foundation model either. Few enterprises should try. What an enterprise can own is control: who may see what, the organisational memory the AI draws on, the rules for what software may do, and the ability to change models without losing history.

Rent the capabilities that commoditise. Own the assets that compound. Reach for new demand, models and compute can be rented, and should be swapped as prices fall. Relationships with known customers, memory, permissions and decisions must stay with the enterprise. The goal is not to stop renting technology. It is to stop renting the value that technology helps create.

Figure 1. Rent what commoditises; own what compounds

  Owned attention Owned intelligence
What is owned The relationship: direct reach, engagement history, the habit of returning Control: permissions, organisational memory, rules for action, model portability
What is not The customer’s attention, which is earned every time The foundation model, which can be bought or replaced
What compounds Each interaction makes the next more relevant Each completed commitment improves the next follow-through
What can be rented Reach for new demand Models, compute and much of the software around them

4

 The first asset: owned attention

Brand email has four jobs: Sell, Notify, Deepen and Recover. Most brands have built the first two thoroughly, in offers and confirmations. Few have built anything for the time between transactions, when there is nothing to sell and nothing to confirm. So attention decays. Opens slide, the engaged base shrinks to a fraction of the list, and the dormant majority becomes reachable only through paid media. The brand pays twice for the same customer. As I argued in Before the Slide, customer retention begins with attention retention.

Deepen keeps active and fading customers coming back through a regular Brand Digest: a short publication built around their interests, with actions they can take inside the email and collectible cards that build into an album over time. Recover brings dormant customers back through a time-boxed programme that earns a verified human action before anything else is attempted, as I described in The Dormant Goldmine. And when a customer has gone quiet on the brand’s own channel, a permissioned route through another trusted brand’s audience can come before the auction, the idea behind CRM Ads: Your Customer, Someone Else’s Attention.

Owned attention is a relationship the brand can keep strengthening, at a marginal cost far below paid reach. Each interaction leaves a trace that makes the next one more relevant. Paid media does not disappear; it is reserved for demand the brand does not yet have.

5

 The second asset: owned intelligence

Finding work in email is becoming free. This month Google began rolling out Gmail’s AI Inbox to paid Workspace users, initially in US English, surfacing tasks and priority updates from mail. Other suites are adding similar features. Noticing what needs doing is fast becoming part of the bundle.

Noticing is the easy part. Work is lost not where a commitment is made but in what follows: the date that moves, the scope that changes, the reply that sounds like completion but is only acknowledgement. “Thanks, will check” closes nothing. Finding a to-do is an event; keeping a commitment is a continuing obligation. The value is in finishing, not finding.

Figure 2. Finding is bundled; finishing is the job

Consider a private work agent with a proposed price of about $2 a seat a month: a fraction of a premium assistant, and within reach of an emerging-market employer buying for a whole workforce rather than a few senior staff. It would do one job. It keeps a ledger of who owes what to whom and by when, with the source email as evidence. It briefs each employee every morning, drafts follow-ups for approval, and suggests closing an item only when there is evidence of delivery. Code handles dates, states and permissions; the model only reads and writes language.

That price is a hypothesis, not a proven business. Reliability, adoption, support and willingness to pay all need testing, and a twelve-week experiment is the right way to find out. But the design shows what owned intelligence means in practice: the enterprise controls the permissions, the memory and the actions. The model is replaceable. The ledger is not.

6

 The common asset: memory

Set the two assets side by side and the same structure appears. Owned attention runs a loop from interaction to attention, action, outcome and memory, and each interaction makes the next more valuable. Owned intelligence runs a loop from promise to tracking, preparation, fulfilment and memory, and each completed commitment improves the next follow-through. One builds relationship continuity. The other builds work continuity.

Figure 3. Two loops, one compounding asset

The asset that compounds in both is a trustworthy memory of what happened, what should happen next, and whether it did. It is the idea I explored in The Living Email That Remembers: a campaign reads from the past, while a learning system reads and writes. In NeoMarketing’s vocabulary this memory lives in context graphs, of customers, of products, and of decisions and their outcomes.

Trustworthy is the hard word. Memory needs provenance, so every entry traces to a source; currency, so obsolete obligations are retired; permissions, so one person’s record does not become everyone’s; and correction, so mistakes improve the system instead of hardening into policy. A memory that records an acknowledgement as a delivery, or a customer’s due date as a promise, is worse than none. And accumulation alone is not a moat. Memory earns its value only by improving the next decision.

7

Where the two meet: the customer’s promise

The two assets meet at a point marketing and operations both know well: the promise a customer makes to a brand.

Customers make such promises all the time. To renew a policy next week. To pay an instalment before it falls due. To upload documents tomorrow. Collections teams even have a name for one of them: the promise to pay. Most brands treat these as dates in a reminder calendar. Few remember the promise itself, notice when it changes, or check whether it was kept.

Consider a customer who replies to a renewal notice: “I’ll renew next Friday.” The follow-through engine records the commitment and its source. On Thursday it prepares a reminder on the brand’s own channel: an email in which the customer can confirm intent and move to payment through a secure hand-off. If the customer replies that they need another week, the engine updates their stated intention. It does not move the policy’s expiry date, and it does not suppress reminders the brand is required to send. On Saturday it checks whether the renewal happened, and it never counts an open or a click as a renewal.

Then comes the proof. Eligible customers are randomly assigned either to commitment-aware follow-through or to the brand’s usual reminders. The difference between the two groups’ renewal rates, applied to the eligible base and reported with its margin of error, is the incremental result. Without meaningful lift, the ledger is an expense.

Figure 4. From declared intent to completed action, measured against a control

Good CRM already sends renewal reminders. The difference is a commitment tracked through changing circumstances, backed by evidence, and proved incremental against those reminders.

One engine can serve both employees and customers, but the records must stay apart. An employee’s ledger records who promised what and whether it was done, and it belongs to the employee. A customer ledger records which customer was eligible, what the brand did, what followed and how much of it was incremental, and it is governed by the brand. A customer can renew without having promised anything; an employee can keep a promise that moves no revenue. In banking and insurance the distinction is sharper still: a payment due is not a promise to pay, and consent to a transaction reminder is not consent to marketing. Those lines belong in the engine’s rules, not in a model’s judgement. Share the engine; never share the ledger.

8

Paying for what is built

Rent has a simple price: a fee for access. An asset needs a different logic, because the point of an asset is what it produces.

The principle that travels across both is measurement. Every claim of value is tested against a randomised control group that receives the current best effort, never against last year’s numbers or a vendor’s attribution report. NeoMarketing calls the result Alpha: the uplift above an agreed baseline.

How that value is priced depends on how clean the outcome is. A renewal has a state, a deadline, a value and a verifiable result, so a brand can pay on the agreed incremental value above the control and nothing on renewals that would have happened anyway. An employee’s follow-through is diffuse: fewer missed commitments, faster replies, less chasing. There a flat price per seat is the honest arrangement, even when a control group confirms the benefit. Measure everything against a control; price on outcomes only where outcomes can be priced.

Owned inference can make emerging-market pricing workable for frequent, narrow tasks, because the variable cost is predictable and paid in rupees. But it is not automatically cheaper. The comparison that matters is total cost per completed outcome: compute, integration, supervision, security and support. A $2 licence with an invisible installation bill is not a $2 solution. Netcore learned a version of this in email over two decades: own the infrastructure that is cost-critical, rent the rest, and price for the market you serve.

9

How this could be wrong

The argument fails in six specific ways, and each has a signal that would show it early.

Failure What it would mean What would show it
Bundled AI closes the loop Owned intelligence collapses into cheap private AI, and price is its only advantage Mainstream suites track changing commitments to verified completion, in Indian languages, at no extra cost
Attention cannot be held Digests and cards decay like campaigns, and owned attention becomes just another send Engaged reach and click retention fall against a control over a full quarter
Memory does not move outcomes The ledger is record-keeping, not an asset Follow-through fails to beat the brand’s ordinary reminders on completed renewals
Buyers prefer convenience to control Enterprises accept rented attention and intelligence at any price gap Pilots succeed, yet budgets stay with platforms and bundled suites
Consent fragments memory Purpose and consent rules split data so finely that nothing compounds A narrow, consent-safe memory still cannot show value
Ownership costs more than it saves Private models and recurring audiences cost more to run than the rent they replace Total cost per completed outcome stays above the rented alternative

If memory does not change outcomes, ownership is only an expensive way to rent. Every one of these tests can be run within a quarter.

10

What to do on Monday

The shift does not start with a platform. It starts with five decisions.

  1. Measure the rent. For attention: what share of revenue comes from customers re-bought through paid media? For intelligence: what do you spend on AI per completed job, including the people who review and correct it, and where does the context it builds live?
  2. Pick one promise. Renewals are the cleanest place to start: a clear state, a deadline, a value and a final outcome.
  3. Insist on a control group from the first week. Agree in advance who is eligible, what consent permits and what the current reminders achieve. Without a control, every result is a story.
  4. Build the ledger before the platform. Build the smallest evidence-linked ledger that keeps the state faithfully. Do not build a universal knowledge graph because the phrase sounds strategic.
  5. Keep the records apart. Customer data under the brand’s governance; employee data under the employee’s control.

There is no virtue in replacing a vendor bill with an internal cost centre of the same size. The objective is not independence for its own sake. It is to make the enterprise’s most important relationships and routines less fragile, less expensive and more valuable each time they are used.

The first digital era made enterprises dependent on platforms for attention. The AI era risks making them dependent on platforms for intelligence. Enterprises may rent their models, their compute and some of their reach. But the relationships, memory, permissions and decisions that compound with use must remain theirs.

The first age of software rented capability. The next will be defined by who keeps the memory of what that capability accomplished.

Every Business Has a Strait

Why profits pool at choke points, why brands pay a toll to reach customers they already have, and how to dig the canal instead

“A wealth of information creates a poverty of attention.” – Herbert Simon, 1971

1

One season, two lessons

In the space of a few months in 2026, the Strait of Hormuz taught the world most of what there is to know about choke points.

The strait is a narrow passage between Iran and Oman, and around a fifth of the world’s seaborne oil and gas trade moves through it. When conflict broke out in late February, nobody seized the oil and nobody owned the ships. The passage itself became the problem. By early April, only about 5% of pre-war shipping volume was getting through.

Then came the second lesson. The world had treated the strait as an international waterway and had never paid to cross it. Over the summer came proposals to charge. Iran sought fees of five to seven per cent of cargo value, Oman discussed around three per cent, and Washington wanted none at all. As I write, in mid-October 2026, they remain contested proposals rather than settled tariffs, and ships are again being attacked in and around the strait. But the instinct behind them is as old as trade. Whoever holds a narrow passage is tempted to do one of two things with it: close it, or charge for it.

Every consumer business has lived through both. A platform changes its algorithm and traffic halves overnight: the strait closes for a day. Auction prices rise year after year: the strait charges. The passage between a business and its customers runs through someone else’s water, and the keeper of that water decides when it opens and what it costs.

This essay is about that passage. It makes four arguments. Profits pool at choke points. For consumer brands, the tightest choke point is access to attention. Brands pay its toll twice: once to win a customer, and again to reach the same customer. That round-trip toll is the hidden tax at the centre of modern marketing, and the heart of this essay. And the economics are turning: for a growing number of businesses, digging a canal around the strait is becoming cheaper than paying to cross it.

2

The geography of profit

A choke point is a narrow passage in a valuable flow, where the alternatives cost enough that the passage acquires power out of all proportion to its size. Five properties decide how much power:

  • A large, valuable volume must pass through.
  • Few viable routes exist.
  • Bypass cost. Going around is expensive, slow or inferior.
  • Value capture. The keeper can earn from what passes.
  • The flow stays, rather than finding another way.

Hormuz scores high on the first three. Its weakness, until this year, was the fourth: it conferred leverage, not revenue. The comparison that matters is with a passage that was built.

The Suez Canal opened in 1869. It was cut through desert to create something geography had not provided: a short route between Europe and Asia that spared ships the long voyage round the Cape of Good Hope. It has charged every ship that uses it for more than 150 years, and ships keep choosing it. Its pricing explains why. The Suez Canal Authority weighs the savings a ship achieves by using the canal against the alternative routes, alongside factors such as vessel type and freight rates, and when market conditions make the canal less competitive, it offers rebates of up to 75%.

The strait charges for the obstruction. The canal charges for the shortcut. One is resented and resisted; the other is chosen, ship by ship. The resistance to the Hormuz proposals shows the difference. The United States sanctioned the authority set up to run the waterway, and insurance wording now bars cover for shipowners who pay. Even the proponents avoid the word toll: Oman’s proposal is modelled on the Strait of Malacca, where a foundation collects voluntary contributions for navigation safety. A charge is accepted only when it pays for a service.

Figure 1. The strait and the canal. Both sit on valuable flows; only one is chosen.

The same geography shapes corporate profits. Others have mapped it well: Chris Miller on semiconductors, Henry Farrell and Abraham Newman on the networks of global finance, Ben Thompson on the aggregators that control digital demand. I will not repeat their work. One table is enough to show the pattern.

Choke point What flows through it Its position today
ASML Machines for the most advanced chips The sole supplier of EUV lithography systems
Nvidia AI compute Strong, while its largest customers design their own chips to go around it
Windows PC software Once universal; bypassed by the web and the phone
Google Search Intent Ruled an unlawful monopoly by a US court in 2024; now being rerouted by AI answers
Apple App Store Apps and payments Its commission under regulatory assault in Europe and the United States
Visa Payments Durable: a chosen network whose fee is small relative to what it moves; in India, UPI built a public alternative

Durable choke points are chosen networks whose fee is small relative to the value they move. Imposed tolls invite bypasses and regulators. Choke points need not be physical either. A machine, an operating system, a default setting, a protocol or a network can each become one.

3

The strait moves

In 1971 Herbert Simon made the observation that frames everything in this essay: a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention. Half a century later, AI is multiplying the wealth. It writes copy, generates images, builds software and personalises offers at almost no marginal cost. It cannot manufacture a single extra hour of human attention. So it deepens the poverty.

Clayton Christensen described what happens next. In The Innovator’s Solution he argued that when one layer of an industry becomes abundant and interchangeable, profits migrate to the adjacent layer that stays scarce. In consumer commerce, products, content and software are becoming abundant. What stays scarce is the moment a person chooses to look. Profit is migrating to whoever governs that moment.

None of this is new. What is striking is how often the strait moves. Across the last century, the passage between brands and buyers has shifted again and again: from the retailer’s shelf, to the publisher’s page and the broadcaster’s airtime, to the search box, the social feed, the app store and the marketplace. Today it is shifting once more, to the AI agent that will increasingly read, sort and act on a person’s behalf.

Figure 2. A century of straits. The passage between brands and buyers keeps moving.

In every era, brands rented the strait, and in every era its keeper became a Profipoly, my word for a business that captures an outsized and lasting share of an industry’s profits. Retailers charged for shelf space. Broadcasters sold airtime. Search engines auctioned intent, feeds auctioned attention, and marketplaces charged commissions and then sold advertising on top. Tim Wu’s The Attention Merchants tells the story of how attention was harvested. This essay is about who paid for it.

Straits also erode. Windows looked permanent until computing moved to the browser and the phone. Search looked permanent until AI began answering questions directly. Even Hormuz has pipelines running round it. A strait is a position in a flow, and flows move. That is the first reason for hope, and the first warning to anyone who would build a new one.

4

The round-trip toll

Picture a manufacturer that pays a canal to ship its goods to a customer, and then pays the canal again every time it wants to deliver to the same customer, even though it holds the customer’s address. Nobody would design a trade route that way. Consumer brands run their growth that way.

The first toll is fair. A brand that wants to be discovered by strangers has to go where strangers are: search, social, marketplaces. That is acquisition, and paying for it is the cost of being found.

The second toll is the strange one. The customer buys. The brand now has an email address, a phone number, perhaps an app install, a purchase history and permission to make contact. Months later, the customer drifts. To bring them back, the brand returns to the same platforms and bids again, often against its own competitors, to reach a person whose name it already knows. Then it does it again. Retargeting, reactivation and reacquisition are the polite names for this.

The keepers of the strait document it themselves. Google’s guide to Customer Match invites advertisers to upload their own customer data, and lists re-activating dormant customers among its uses. Nothing in that is improper, and some paid re-engagement earns its keep. The absurdity begins when buying back customers you already know becomes the default operating system rather than the exception.

Brands are the only travellers who pay a toll to bring their own customers home.

Figure 3. The round-trip toll. The brand pays the strait again and again, while its own route sits idle.

The toll is booked as a marketing expense, and its value expires with the interaction. Next quarter it is paid again. Worse, it is often counted as growth: a customer bought back from a platform appears on the dashboard as a customer acquired. The questions are simple. What share of the revenue you call new comes from people who were already yours? What share of your customers reach you only through someone else’s strait? I track the answer with a measure I call REACQ%: the share of customers bought back through paid channels instead of kept through direct relationships. It is a warning light, not a verdict; proving waste means comparing incremental outcomes and fully loaded costs across routes. In my writing on NeoMarketing I have reduced the remedy to a principle: Never Pay Twice.

Meanwhile the owned route sits idle. The email address, the app, the order history: each is a direct line that bypasses the strait. Brands collected these lines carefully and then used them as pipes for receipts, notifications and discount codes, not as places a customer might want to return to. The attention was never built, so it is rented back.

5

The lost canals

Owned attention sounds like a new idea. It is an old one that brands abandoned. A century ago, some of the most successful companies in the world dug canals.

The Michelin Guide, 1900. When the Michelin brothers published their first guide, France had fewer than 3,000 cars on its roads, and they gave away nearly 35,000 copies. The guide told motorists where to refuel, repair and eat. Its purpose was to make people drive more and wear out more tyres. It stayed free until 1920. A tyre company built a reason to travel, and its stars became a lasting, collectable status that has outlived every tyre Michelin sold that year.

The Furrow, 1895. John Deere’s magazine wrote about farming, not tractors. Its circulation passed four million by 1912, and it is still published. Farmers kept it because it served them, which is why it served John Deere.

The Sears catalogue, 1888. Sears began in 1888 with a mail-order catalogue of watches and jewellery, and grew it into a general catalogue that, as the Big Book, was awaited each year by millions and brought the wider world into the isolated homes of rural America. Its Christmas edition, the Wish Book, followed in 1933. It was owned push, delivered by post, and it was kept: browsed for months, passed around, dreamt over. Sears did not pay anyone to reach those homes again. The catalogue was already on the shelf.

S&H Green Stamps, 1896. Merchants gave shoppers stamps with each purchase. Shoppers pasted them into books and redeemed full books for goods from a catalogue. At its 1960s peak, the S&H catalogue was touted as the largest publication in the United States, and the company claimed that three out of four American households collected the stamps. It was one book with many merchants: a cooperative attention currency, with an album.

Figure 4. The lost canals. Brands once built owned attention at scale.

Why did brands stop digging? Because renting got cheaper. Radio, then television, then digital advertising offered reach that was larger, faster and, eventually, measurable to the click. Owned canals needed editors, printers and postage. For most of the twentieth century and all of the digital era, renting won the make-versus-rent decision, and brands forgot they had ever built anything.

The lost canals also carry warnings. Green Stamps did not fade for a single reason. The great inflation of the 1970s turned shoppers’ attention to the lowest price, which undermined the stamps’ business model. Many supermarkets, squeezed by the energy crisis, began advertising lower prices instead of issuing stamps. The rewards themselves lost value, so collectors needed far more stamps for anything worthwhile. S&H went into decline and was sold in 1981. A shared currency survives only while it leaves both the shopper and the merchant better off. Half a century later, American Express tried a cross-brand programme called Plenti. It shut in 2018, and most members had bought from only one or two partner brands, which defeated the point of a coalition. A cooperative canal works only if people cross between the brands on it.

6

The Coase crossover

In 1937 Ronald Coase asked a question that would later win him a Nobel Prize: why do firms exist at all? His answer was that firms organise production internally when using the market costs more. Every firm draws its boundary where making and buying cost the same.

Attention has a boundary too. A brand can make attention, by giving customers reasons to return to its own channels, or rent it, by buying access through someone else’s strait. For a century the answer was obvious. Renting was cheap and scalable; making was expensive and slow. Both sides of that equation have now moved.

  • Renting is getting dearer. Every competitor bids for the same customers in the same auctions, so the price of reaching them rises. AI answers are eroding organic reach in search. Messaging platforms charge per message, and their prices rise. Platform rules change without notice.
  • Making is getting cheaper. AI brings the cost of producing a daily, personal, interactive edition close to zero. Email is an open protocol with no per-message toll. Interactive formats let customers act inside the message instead of clicking out of it.

The make-versus-rent equation for customer attention is being rewritten. For businesses able to build a voluntary habit, the crossover has arrived. For the rest, the race is to make it happen.

Figure 5. The Coase crossover as a scenario. Each business crosses at its own point.

One caution belongs here rather than at the end. An open protocol is not an open inbox. Email offers an open and inexpensive route to the customer, but the inbox is controlled by its provider and attention is controlled by the person. A durable attention asset must therefore outlive the message that first created it: progress, collections and relationships that persist after the email has been read.

The crossover also needs a boundary and a test. Making attention is not free. Relevance, editorial judgement, deliverability and trust all cost money, and the cost of a generic paragraph falling to zero says nothing about the cost of something worth a person’s time. The claim applies to repeat-purchase consumer businesses and to customers the brand already has; discovering strangers still runs through rented straits, and should. A business sustained by patents, contracts or switching costs may not need daily attention at all. The test is concrete: compare the fully loaded cost per incrementally re-engaged customer on each route, measured against a control group. For retailers, consumer brands, publishers, financial services and travel, any business whose profits depend on the second, third and tenth purchase, that comparison is now worth running. The crossover turns a structural threat into a choice.

7

Leverage, toll, fee, dividend

There are four ways to take value from a route, and what separates them is who keeps the value.

Figure 6. Four economics of a route. Value moves from the keeper to the traveller.

  • Leverage is what Hormuz offered until 2026: the power to disrupt, with no revenue attached.
  • A toll is a compulsory charge set by the keeper. The traveller pays because there is no other way through. The proposed Hormuz fees are tolls. So is the auction a brand must enter to reach its own customers.
  • A fee is the price of a chosen shortcut. Suez and Visa charge fees. They are priced on the savings they create, and the traveller can always take the long way round.
  • A dividend is what the traveller earns when it owns the route. Nobody else sets the price, and the returns accrue to the owner.

Marketing has lived almost entirely in the toll column. I call it the attention toll: pay for reach, receive a temporary chance to be noticed, pay again next time. The alternative is an attention dividend.

  Attention toll Attention dividend
What you pay for Reach Usefulness, habit and persistence
What happens to the value It expires after the interaction It accumulates across interactions
Next time Pay again Each return makes the next more likely
In the accounts An expense Behaves like an asset
Who sets the price The keeper of the strait The brand

The asset is not the customer’s time. Nobody can own that. It is the recurring, permissioned relationship and the customer’s accumulated reasons to return: a daily edition they look forward to, a collection they are completing, a record of progress they would lose by leaving. I call this asset Owned Attention. Its operating measure is Real Reach: the share of known customers who have meaningfully engaged in the past ninety days, counted through actions rather than opens, which mailbox privacy features now inflate. Real Reach reveals the productive audience hidden behind the vanity of list size.

Put simply: rented attention is an auction; owned attention has no auction. Nobody bids against you for a place in a relationship you built.

8

One brand builds a pipeline; only a network digs a canal

There is a catch, and it comes from inside the argument. If every brand builds its own daily attention surface, a customer with relationships across forty brands receives forty daily emails. The first few brands gain. The rest recreate the overload they set out to escape. Human attention is fixed, and owned attention built brand by brand runs into a fallacy of composition.

The Gulf producers faced a version of this problem with Hormuz. They built pipelines around the strait, and the pipelines help. But a pipeline serves one shipper and carries a fraction of the flow. One brand can build a pipeline around the strait. Only a network can dig a canal.

A cooperative canal is a shared route to which many brands contribute and which each one makes more valuable. On the consumer side, it looks like the Green Stamps book rebuilt for the digital age: one album, many issuers, where a person’s collection, progress and rewards grow because the album spans brands. On the commercial side, it is a network through which a brand can reach a customer it cannot reach directly, on the trusted surface of another brand or publisher that customer still pays attention to.

Figure 7. The cooperative canal has two layers: an album the person controls, and permissioned routing paid on outcomes.

A shared album is necessary, but it is not enough. Consolidating what people keep is not the same as consolidating what they receive. Forty issuers in one album can still mean forty emails a day. The network has to make attention itself more efficient. People choose which issuers they follow and how often they hear from them, and can take one optional curated edition that brings several issuers together with updates from their own collection, instead of forty separate demands to open.

The commercial layer has its own condition. Reaching a customer through another brand’s or publisher’s relationship must rest on authorised, privacy-preserving matching. Possessing an email address is not permission.

History supplies the design rules:

  • The album must be better because it spans brands. Plenti failed because members never crossed between partners.
  • Both sides must stay better off. Green Stamps faded once a price cut was worth more to shoppers, and cost merchants less, than a stamp.
  • Brands keep their customer relationships. The canal carries the traffic; it does not take ownership of the cargo.
  • People control their collections and their attention. Participation is chosen, and leaving is possible.
  • The operator earns on service, not on access. The moment it charges for passage, it has become a strait.

The order of travel follows: owned first, cooperative second, rented last. A brand reaches a customer through its own channels where it can, through a trusted partner’s where it cannot, and through the auction only when both fail.

9  Agent-proof attention

The strait is moving again. Personal AI agents will increasingly stand between people and their inboxes, feeds and shopping. They will summarise, compare, renew and buy. In an earlier essay, The Inbox Has Two Readers, I described this as the inbox gaining a second reader: the agent, alongside the person.

The agent will absorb most functional attention. A renewal notice, a price comparison, a delivery update or a routine reorder no longer needs a human to look at it. Any brand whose relationship consists of functional messages will find its attention intercepted, summarised and acted on without a person ever seeing its name.

But agents can’t be fans. Some things lose their point the moment they are delegated: completing a collection, playing a game, discovering something new, belonging to a group. Nobody asks an agent to finish their collection, any more than they ask it to watch a match for them. Attention given for its own sake is agent-proof.

Figure 8. Two readers. The agent takes the functional; the person keeps what is chosen for its own sake.

So brands need two capabilities. For the agent, machine access: structured, trusted, actionable messages that an agent can read and act on with the customer’s permission. For the person, experiences chosen for their own sake. The battle to own the consumer’s agent belongs to the largest technology companies in the world. Brands should not fight it. They should become the counterparty that agents trust and the experience that people choose.

10  How to dig a canal

Building a canal does not require a monopoly. Suez has competitors: the Cape route, rail and air freight. It earns because it is the better route for most ships, most of the time. A canal is built in four stages.

Figure 9. Four stages of a canal. The fourth is a Profipoly, reached without forbidding other routes.

  • A cheaper route. Comparable results at lower cost than renting.
  • A better route. Results the alternatives cannot match: customers reached who were otherwise lost, actions completed that would otherwise stall.
  • A compounding route. Each new brand, publisher and participant makes the route more valuable for everyone already on it.
  • A structurally advantaged network. The combination of cost, accumulated consumer value, network density and outcome intelligence becomes hard to copy, and returns stay high.

Suez also supplies the pricing rule. Earn a share of the advantage you create, leave the traveller better off, and cut your price when you are not the better route. In marketing, the operator should earn a performance carry only on verified incremental value above a pre-agreed baseline, measured against a control group. No lift, no carry. The ceiling is set by the traveller’s real alternative, which is not always an advertising auction. For recovering a lapsed buyer, it is the cost of reacquiring them through paid media; for completing a stalled renewal or verification, it is the profit the brand would otherwise forgo. A canal priced this way does not need defending. Its customers defend it.

The danger comes later. Every successful route eventually tempts its keeper to become a strait: to raise prices because leaving is hard, to obstruct the alternatives, to charge for passage rather than for the shortcut. Hormuz in 2026 shows how that ends: sanctions, insurance barriers, coalitions of the unwilling and pipelines round the edge.

Charge for the shortcut, never for the obstruction.

11

How this thesis could fail

A thesis that cannot fail is not worth holding. This one rests on three separate claims, and each has its own kill condition. They fail independently: a network that never forms would not invalidate a profitable direct route, while a habit that never forms would invalidate almost everything.

  • The attention claim fails if meaningful return does not persist once the novelty fades and without ever-larger incentives. Then there is no asset, only a new kind of message.
  • The economics claim fails if the fully loaded direct route cannot beat the rented route on incremental contribution per customer, measured against control groups.
  • The network claim fails if adding issuers and participants creates no measurable extra value for consumers or brands. Then the canal is merely a coalition, and coalitions have a poor record.

Three threats could move the crossover even if all three claims hold:

  • The open lane narrows. Mailbox providers or AI agents could turn the inbox into a pay-to-be-seen space, and email’s gate would become a toll.
  • The incumbents cut their tolls. This is the most likely response. Platforms can lower the price of reaching existing customers to keep brands in the auction. The strongest answer to a new canal is a cheaper bridge built by the incumbent.
  • The canal operator turns into a strait. If whoever runs the network starts charging for access rather than results, brands will build around it, as they should.

Each of these is observable within a few years, and each deserves closer watching than any argument in this essay.

12

The Strait Audit

Every business has a strait. Most have never named theirs. Three questions do it:

  • What is your strait? The passage through which most of your growth flows today.
  • What is your round-trip toll? What you pay to reach customers you already have.
  • What would your canal be? The route you could build, alone or with others, that makes the toll unnecessary.

Then apply the five properties twice, because they measure two different things. For today’s strait, a high score means exposure: much of your growth passes through it, you have few alternatives and leaving would be costly. For the canal you could build, a high score means defensibility: a rival would find it hard to copy.

Figure 10. The Strait Audit. One column measures exposure, the other defensibility.

The reading is direct. High exposure and a weak canal is the most dangerous position, and the one most consumer businesses occupy today. High exposure and a strong canal is an opportunity waiting for investment. Low exposure means the strait is not yet your problem. Check again next year, because straits move.

Herbert Simon saw the scarcity half a century ago. AI has made it acute: as the supply of content becomes limitless, the passage to a person’s attention becomes the most valuable water in the economy. The keepers of today’s straits know it, and they will charge accordingly.

Every business has a strait. You can keep paying to cross it, or you can dig the canal.

The Dormant Goldmine (Part 7)

VII

What Would Prove This Wrong, and What Follows

11   Five kill conditions

The crux is whether one recovered reader generates enough recurring, monetisable attention to pay for bringing them back.

A business thesis that cannot be wrong is not worth much. This one can be wrong in five specific ways, and each can be tested within ninety days on a handful of brands.

It fails if verified recovery against the holdout is close to zero. If the dormant customers who take an action are the ones who would have come back anyway, the operator is claiming credit for natural return, and the brand will eventually notice.

It fails if Habit Rate collapses after Recover. A reader who answers one Magnet and never returns is a reactivation statistic, not an audience. The model needs graduates who keep reading.

It fails if net yield cannot cover editorial and delivery costs, even at portfolio scale. If advertisers will not pay meaningfully for actions inside restored relationships, the attention meter cannot fund the factory, and the model survives only as a recovery service paid on transaction lift.

It fails if complaint rates threaten sender reputation. A model that endangers the brand’s main domain will be switched off, and should be.

And it fails if the marginal cost of each additional brand does not fall. Without that, the operator has built an agency with a media story, not a factory, and the Bending Spoons comparison is decoration.

The ninety-day test is designed around these conditions, with every threshold set before the first message is sent. A handful of brands, chosen for permission, recoverability, advertiser demand and Digest fit. A randomised holdout in each. A time-boxed Recover sequence, followed by a reader-chosen Standard Digest. A test of whether a single, contextually relevant partner action inside Recover helps or harms reactivation, judged on complaints, verified recovery and later habit. And a gate at day ninety that scales the programme only if recovery, habit, yield, complaint rates and contribution all clear their thresholds. I would also watch whether readers keep and revisit their cards, as an early sign of the consumer opportunity, without mistaking it for revenue.

12   From databases to audiences

The next great media businesses may not begin by acquiring audiences. They may begin by restoring attention to the audiences brands have already paid for.

If the factory works, it does not stay a factory. A hundred operated audiences become a network. Advertisers that buy actions in one Digest can buy across a category. A dormant customer of one brand, unreachable in its own emails, may be an active reader of another brand’s Digest, where a one-tap invitation can bring them back. I described the shape of this network in Inbox Media Network: How the Next Ad Category Has Been Hiding in Plain Sight. What this essay adds is the operating model: who runs the inventory, on what terms, and why only a portfolio can afford to.

The consumer side can compound too. A reader who collects cards from one brand may, by their own choice, carry them into an album shared across several. That album could become a reason to open email that belongs to no single brand, and an asset that grows with every issuer. It must rest on explicit opt-in, and it cannot be funded indefinitely by a loss-making business-to-business operation. Its economics have to stand on their own.

Inside NeoMarketing, this is Atrium’s operating model: a portfolio operator of dormant audiences, with Progency providing the transaction meter. It does not need a new name. It needs the factory built and the ninety-day test run.

The old email industry was paid to send. The next one may be paid to bring customers back, and to keep them coming back. The dormant half of every database is the largest pool of known, permissioned and idle attention in marketing. It has sat idle not because it was worthless, but because no single brand could afford to operate it. A shared factory can.

Don’t buy the database. Build the factory that makes operating the next one cheaper than the last.

The Dormant Goldmine (Part 6)

VI

The Economics, Without the Gloss

10   One brand is a rounding error

The portfolio creates the operating advantage. Yield decides the prize.

It is easy to make this model sound richer than it is. So take an illustrative brand and follow the money.

The brand has two million dormant addresses. After validation and suppression, 1.4 million are eligible for Recover. A four-Mini sequence sends 5.6 million emails. Five per cent of eligible readers take a verified action and graduate: 70,000 readers. Each receives about 13 Digests a month, and a person engages with 35% of those editions, which gives about 318,500 engaged editions a month.

Now the yield. Suppose each engaged edition offers one ActionAd, 1.5% of them are completed, and the average advertiser payout is $0.40 per action. That is $6 of net revenue per 1,000 engaged editions: about $1,900 a month in total, and about $950 a month to each party. At the operator’s own infrastructure cost of around $0.20 per thousand emails, sending is cheap: roughly $1,100 for the whole Recover sequence and under $200 a month for the Digests.

Delivery is cheap. Audience creation is not. Editorial production, card design, data work, brand onboarding, advertising sales, support and measurement all cost more than the sending, and they come before the revenue. The economic test is recovering the whole investment, not the cost of the emails. As a standalone media property, one brand’s dormant half is a rounding error.

Scale changes the picture, but less than intuition suggests. A hundred such brands would hold about seven million graduated readers and produce about $1.15 million a year in advertising revenue for the operator at the same yield. That is a business line, not a company. If net yield reaches $30 per 1,000 engaged editions, which lead-generation categories may support, the same portfolio produces about $5.7 million a year. Yield, not database size, decides which of these futures arrives.

Figure 5. Illustrative. Per brand: 70,000 graduated readers, 13 editions a month, 35% engaged; operator keeps 50% of net ActionAd revenue.

There is a second number in the illustration, and it matters more to the brand. If one in ten of the 70,000 graduated readers buys within ninety days, at an average order of $30, those customers spend $210,000 in a quarter. Not all of that is incremental; the holdout decides how much. But even a modest incremental share is worth more to the brand than a year of its advertising share. That is why the pitch leads with recovered customers, and why the transaction meter may matter more than the attention meter in many categories.

If the hundredth brand costs as much to operate as the first, there is no factory. That is the test the portfolio must pass, and the operator’s equation shows where. It is simple to write. Contribution equals half of net advertising revenue, plus any transaction share, minus delivery, content, operations and the cost of Mu, with the initial recovery investment repaid over the life of a graduated reader. Four numbers show whether it works.

The first is contribution per 1,000 graduated readers per month. It strips out the size of the database and shows whether a restored reader pays for being kept.

The second is recovery cost per graduate: what it costs, including content and sending, to turn one dormant address into one verified reader.

The third is payback: how many months of contribution it takes to recover that cost. A twelve-month operating term works only if payback falls well inside it.

The fourth, and the one that tests the Bending Spoons thesis directly, is marginal contribution per additional brand. If the factory works, each new brand in a category should cost less to onboard, need less new editorial work and reach advertisers who already buy elsewhere in the portfolio. The tenth travel brand should be cheaper to operate than the second.

These numbers also show where the levers are. Recovery rate determines how many readers the factory gets. Habit Rate determines how long it keeps them. Yield determines what each engaged edition earns. Shared production determines what each edition costs. I set out a similar four-lever equation in How Publishers Can 10X Their Revenue; the same logic applies here, with the dormant half as the starting audience.

The choice of brands follows from the levers. The age of dormancy matters less than four other questions: whether the brand holds legitimate permission, whether its dormant customers are plausibly recoverable, whether advertisers want to reach its category, and whether its world naturally produces a recurring Digest and collectible sets. Jobs, travel, lifestyle, entertainment and some retail categories pass all four. Banking, where third-party advertising and reward currencies face regulatory limits, does not, and needs a compliance-first version of the Digest.

The Dormant Goldmine (Part 5)

V

The New Bargain

8   Operating, not owning

The brand keeps the customer. The operator earns the right to rebuild the attention.

The commercial relationship needs a name that does not alarm a legal team. “Renting the database” is vivid and wrong. It implies that the operator receives the brand’s customers as a third party, to use for its own purposes. A better term is Audience Operating Rights: a contract under which the operator runs the dormant audience for the brand, as the brand’s processor, under defined permissions.

The terms follow from that. The brand remains the data controller and the owner of the relationship. It keeps control of consent, suppression and the right to stop sending at any time. Emails go out under the brand’s name, from isolated sending infrastructure that protects the reputation of its main domain, with volume caps and an automatic pause if complaints rise. The brand approves the advertising categories and can exclude competitors and anything it considers unsuitable.

The operator, in turn, funds the work: the sending, the editorial production, the Magnets and cards, the technology and the operations. Because it invests before it earns, it needs a defined operating term, long enough to recover the cost of rebuilding attention. Twelve months, renewable, is a reasonable starting point, with a fair settlement if the brand ends the arrangement early.

Two lines must not be crossed. Permission to receive a brand’s email is not permission for the operator to profile that customer across brands, or to market its own products to them. And the operator acquires no lasting claim on the brand’s customers. Anything that extends beyond the brand, such as a reader’s choice to carry their cards into a wider album shared with other brands, has to be the reader’s own explicit and separate decision. And no commercial term overrides the reader: an unsubscribe or a withdrawal of consent ends the relationship, whatever the contract says. The bargain works only if the brand never has reason to wonder whose customer it is.

9   Two meters

The brand pays nothing to get its customers back, and pays only when they buy more than the control group did.

The economics of the bargain run on two meters. They are best kept as separate entitlements, so that the front door stays simple.

The first is the attention meter. Recovery is free. Sending is ZeroCPM: the brand pays nothing per email. Once readers have graduated to the Standard Digest, each edition can carry one clearly labelled ActionAd: a partner action completed inside the email, such as a sign-up, a quote, a sample or a booking. Net ActionAd revenue, meaning gross advertiser payments less third-party fees and refunds, is split 50:50 between the brand and the operator. The operator pays its costs from its own half, so the brand’s half needs no reconciliation of anyone’s internal costs.

The second is the transaction meter, contracted separately and optional. When restored attention leads to purchases, the holdout shows how many of them are incremental. The operator can then be paid a share of the lift above the control group, never of the baseline, on an agreed economic basis such as contribution profit. In NeoMarketing’s terms, the baseline is Beta, the verified improvement is Alpha, and the operator’s agreed share of it is Carry. No lift, no bill. This is the model I described in No Lift, No Bill: How Progency Works.

Figure 4. One customer journey, two commercial meters.

The order matters in the sales conversation. A brand’s first reason to agree is recovered customers at no charge. The advertising share is a second benefit and an alignment mechanism: the operator earns only when the attention it restores is valuable to someone. The transaction meter can follow once the holdout has produced evidence.

The two meters also keep apart two claims that are easy to blur. Recovered attention is one claim: a reader who was silent now acts. Avoided reacquisition is another: the brand did not have to buy that customer back through paid media. The holdout proves the first as soon as readers graduate. The second is proven only when recovered customers go on to buy through the brand’s own channels at a higher rate than the control group, and the brand’s REACQ%, the share of its customers re-bought from paid channels, falls. A customer who answers a Magnet has not yet saved the brand anything. The operator should claim the first when it happens, and the second only when the evidence arrives.

Together, the two meters restate the Three NEVERs in commercial form. A dormant customer whose attention is restored is a customer the brand did not lose: Never Lose Customers. A customer who goes on to buy through the brand’s own channel, rather than through an ad, is one the brand did not pay Google or Meta to buy back: Never Pay Twice. The arrangement does not end paid acquisition; it changes the order in which a brand spends. And a brand that pays nothing to send, and pays for transactions only on proven lift, has no fixed fee anywhere in the arrangement: Never Pay Fixed.

The Dormant Goldmine (Part 4)

IV

The Attention Factory

6   What the factory makes

The factory’s product is not email. It is the reason to open the next one.

The factory produces four things, and none of them is a promotion.

The first is a publication. The Brand Digest is a short edition from the customer’s world, sent under the brand’s name: a few things worth reading, one thing worth doing and something worth keeping. A travel brand curates places. A jobs platform explains salaries and skills. A grocer explores food. The brand is the editor, not the protagonist. The Digest is useful on a day the reader buys nothing, which is most days.

The second is the Magnet: a thirty-to-sixty-second interaction that leaves the reader better off. A quiz on salary bands in their city. A prediction about a match. A puzzle, a benchmark, or a choice between two places to visit. The Magnet turns reading into participation, and participation into a signal that a real person is present.

The third is the object. A Magnet that leaves nothing behind is a moment, and moments do not form habits. A NeoCard gives the edition something to keep. It arrives by email with a permanent front and a back that can change. It may come with a Magnet, ask for a prediction before it is revealed, or carry a new challenge after it has been collected. Cards form sets, sets fill an album, and yesterday’s collection gives today’s edition another reason to matter. I described this in NeoCards: Objects Worth Keeping.

The fourth is the ledger. Mu, the attention currency, rewards completed actions under clear rules, and the ledger records what each reader has earned. The number in the subject line, the reader’s own balance, is a small promise that this email remembers the last one.

Each of these is expensive to build once and cheap to reuse. A quiz engine, a card system, a Mu ledger and an editorial workflow do not need to be rebuilt for each brand. What changes is the content: the places, the questions, the card designs and the category knowledge. Even content has a shared structure. A career Digest for one jobs platform and a money Digest for one consumer-finance brand draw on the same production line, staffed by editors working with AI and organised by vertical rather than by client.

This is where the portfolio does its work. A single brand would pay the full cost of the studio for one Digest. A hundred brands each pay a hundredth.

7   The way back

An open is a rumour. An action is evidence.

A factory that produces good editions still needs a careful way to introduce them to dormant customers. Sending a dormant list a daily Digest would be the fastest way to damage the domain the brand depends on. So the way back has two programmes, not one.

The first is Recover: a short, time-boxed sequence of lighter editions, called Minis, sent only to addresses that pass eligibility checks. They must be validated, unsuppressed and inside consent. Each Mini carries one strong reason to engage: a new card to collect, one question worth answering, or, where the brand has issued Mu before, a balance the reader had forgotten. The sequence ends with a hard exit rule. Readers who take no action by the end are suppressed. A dormant customer never receives open-ended Digest cadence. I set out the reasoning for this rule in 10+1 Email Innovations.

The way back then has three stages, in a fixed order. Recover finds the people who respond. An open inside Recover is logged as attention detected, but it changes nothing, because machines can generate opens. Graduation requires a verified human action: a Magnet answered, a card collected through a real interaction, a purposeful click or a stated preference. Graduation does two things. It returns the reader to the brand’s own marketing programme, at no charge. And it unlocks the Standard Digest, at a cadence the reader chooses. Habit is what the Standard Digest is then meant to produce: repeated, voluntary engagement, measured by Habit Rate, the share of readers who open at least 60% of the editions they chose over four weeks. Because opens are noisy, Habit Rate counts estimated human opens, with machine opens filtered out, and is checked against clicks, interactions and repeated returns.

The order matters. Reactivation qualifies a reader for the Digest. Habit is the Digest’s result, not its entry ticket.

Figure 3. Recover, Graduate, Habit. An open is never enough to graduate, and habit is earned inside the Digest.

Every Recover programme runs with a randomised holdout from the first day: a slice of the eligible dormant cohort that receives nothing. The holdout answers the question every brand should ask: how many of these customers would have come back anyway? Reactivation is counted as the difference between the two groups, never as the raw number in the treated group. Dormant cohorts allow a cleaner test than almost anything else in marketing, because the control group is drawn from the same people at the same time and left alone.

Recover is the bridge. It is deliberately narrow, short and suspicious of easy signals. Its job is to find the part of the dormant half that can still become an audience. The Digest’s job is to keep it. I described why customer retention begins with attention retention in Before the Slide.

The Dormant Goldmine (Part 3)

III

What Bending Spoons Teaches

4   The shared platform

Don’t buy the database. Build the factory that makes operating the next one cheaper than the last.

Bending Spoons began in 2013 as a small mobile-app developer and became something else: a company that acquires established digital products and runs them on its own operating machine. It has made more than fifty acquisitions. Its main businesses include Evernote, WeTransfer, Vimeo, Eventbrite and AOL. In September 2026, two months after listing on Nasdaq, it completed its $1.285 billion purchase of Airtable, and within days agreed to buy Miro for $1.355 billion. Many of these products were famous, widely used and under-run. Their users had not left. Their economics had stalled.

The easy reading of Bending Spoons is that it buys bargains. That misses the point. The company describes itself as built on operational excellence: it acquires digital businesses, transforms them, reinvests the earnings and repeats. It keeps what it buys, and says it has never sold a material business. The transformation is the business. Acquired products move onto a common technology platform, common processes and a common way of deciding on pricing, product and cost. Each new product benefits from everything the previous ones taught. The machine is the asset; the products are what it operates.

That is the lesson worth taking. A product that is uneconomic for its own management to run well can become profitable inside a machine that runs many such products. The fixed costs of excellence, such as engineering, analytics, pricing expertise and experimentation, are spread across the portfolio. The marginal cost of operating one more product falls with each one added.

Now apply that logic to the dormant half of a brand’s database. One brand cannot justify an editorial team, a games studio, a deliverability practice and an advertising sales operation for customers who are not buying. An operator serving a hundred brands can. What is uneconomic for one brand to operate can become profitable when a shared platform operates it for a hundred. The editorial templates built for one travel brand serve the next. The advertiser who buys an action in one career Digest can buy it across five. The deliverability playbook refined on the first dormant list makes the fiftieth safer.

Applied to attention, the Bending Spoons model is not about buying databases. It is about building the factory that makes each additional database cheaper and quicker to operate than the one before.

Figure 2. The portfolio is operated through one shared machine. The machine is what improves.

5   Where the analogy breaks

The operator runs the asset. It never owns it.

Analogies are useful until they are taken literally, and this one breaks in three places.

First, customers’ consent cannot be bought. Bending Spoons acquires companies outright, along with the user relationships those products hold. No operator can acquire a brand’s customers that way, and none should try. Permission to receive email from a brand is permission given to that brand. The operator’s role is to run the dormant audience on the brand’s behalf, under the brand’s name, inside the brand’s consent, and under data-protection law that holds the brand accountable for what happens. In India, the Digital Personal Data Protection Act frames exactly this relationship.

Second, the brand stays in the room. A Bending Spoons acquisition ends the previous owner’s involvement. Here the brand remains the owner of the customer relationship, the data and the right to stop. It approves the content categories, the advertisers and the limits on cadence. The operator earns the right to rebuild attention. It does not earn the customer.

Third, the analogy carries a warning. Bending Spoons’ acquisitions have often been followed by deep workforce cuts and higher subscription prices, and the company has critics among users of the products it bought. The inbox equivalent of that error is over-monetisation: treating restored attention as inventory to harvest rather than a relationship to keep. An operator that fills a dormant customer’s Digest with advertising will lose that customer a second time, and this time for good. The discipline has to be built into the product: at most one clearly labelled partner action per edition, category exclusions that the brand controls, and a hard stop when complaint rates rise.

With those corrections, the analogy holds where it matters. A portfolio of dormant audiences is operated through one shared machine, and the machine is what improves. Every additional brand should be cheaper to onboard than the last one in its category. If it is not, there is no factory, only a services business with a clever name.

The Dormant Goldmine (Part 2)

II

Why Brands Abandon the Dormant Half

3   The cost is not the send

The dormant half is not abandoned because it is worthless, but because it is expensive to operate alone.

The obvious explanation for why brands neglect dormant customers is that emailing them costs money. It is the wrong explanation. On modern infrastructure, the marginal cost of sending an email is a small fraction of a cent. A brand could email its entire dormant half every week for less than it spends on a single day of paid search.

The real cost is producing something worth opening. A dormant customer has already ignored months of the brand’s promotions. Another discount, another new arrival, another “we miss you” will not change that. What might change it is something the customer values for its own sake: a useful piece of content, a small game, a question worth answering, an object worth keeping. Producing that every week, for an audience that is not currently buying, needs an editorial team, a games studio and a content operation. No CRM team has these, and no CMO can justify building them for customers who generate no revenue.

The second cost is risk. Sending to unresponsive addresses is the fastest way to damage a sender’s reputation with the large mailbox providers, and that reputation is shared with the active programme that pays the bills. A brand that mails its dormant half carelessly can find its promotional email landing in spam for everyone. Mailbox providers have tightened their rules for bulk senders, and the complaint thresholds they tolerate are low. From the CRM team’s seat, the dormant half is not an opportunity. It is a threat to the part of the database that works.

So the rational decision for any single brand is to leave the dormant half alone and pay to reacquire whoever comes back. It is rational for the brand. It is wasteful for the system.

A dormant audience needs a publisher, not another campaign. Look closer and the problem breaks into four obstacles, each of which a single brand struggles to clear.

The first is content. The dormant customer needs a reason to open that has nothing to do with selling. That is a publishing problem: a recurring edition with something worth reading, something worth doing and something worth keeping. I described this format in The Brand Digest: Email’s Missing Publication. Brands are not publishers, and their CRM teams are measured on campaigns, not editions.

The second is the sending domain. Any serious attempt to reach dormant customers needs isolated sending, careful volume ramps, validation before every send, suppression of addresses that should not be contacted, and an automatic stop tied to complaint rates. These are specialist disciplines. Getting them wrong once can cost a brand months of deliverability.

The third is monetisation. Even when a brand restores attention, it has no way to earn from it between purchases. Commerce media networks have shown that verified attention close to intent is valuable to advertisers, but building an advertising sales operation to monetise a few hundred thousand re-engaged readers makes no sense for one brand. The attention would be restored, and then left idle again.

The fourth is measurement. The industry’s default signal of attention, the open, has become unreliable. Privacy features in some mail clients pre-load images, and security scanners open emails that no person has seen. A brand that counts opens as reactivation will move machine-opened addresses back into its promotional programme and damage the reputation it set out to protect. Real reactivation needs a verified human action, and a holdout group to show whether that action would have happened anyway.

Each obstacle carries a fixed cost: an editorial operation, a deliverability practice, an advertising sales team, a measurement system. Each can be justified on its own. Together, for one brand’s dormant customers, they fail the budget meeting. Shared across a hundred brands, each becomes small. That is the opening the rest of this essay is about.

The Dormant Goldmine (Part 1)

How brands can turn forgotten customer databases into living, profitable audiences, without paying to send another email.

Every brand owns a database it has stopped operating. This essay is about who should operate it, on what terms, and why only a portfolio can make it pay.

The argument in one line. A dormant database is not a dead asset; it is an unoperated one. What is uneconomic for one brand to operate can become profitable when a shared platform operates it for a hundred brands: recovering customers at no charge to the brand, earning media revenue from the attention it restores, and taking a share of transaction uplift only where it can prove it.

I

The Graveyard in Every Database

1   The silent majority

The brand paid to build the database, and then stopped operating it.

Every large consumer brand owns a graveyard. It sits inside the customer database: millions of email addresses collected over years of advertising, registrations, purchases and loyalty sign-ups. Each one cost money to acquire. Each one belonged to someone who, at some point, had a reason to engage. Then, gradually and without any single moment anyone could point to, the relationship went quiet.

Marketing calls these customers dormant. The term is polite. It means the brand has stopped expecting anything from them. They have not unsubscribed. Their addresses have not bounced. They simply stopped opening, and the brand responded by sending them less, then nothing, then forgetting they were there. In a mature database it is rarely a fringe, and it is often a large share of the list.

The accounting is strange. Finance rarely gives dormant customer attention any separately measurable value, because it produces no revenue anyone can point to. Deliverability teams treat it as a hazard, because sending to unresponsive addresses damages the sender reputation that the active programme depends on. And the acquisition team, under pressure to grow, goes back to Google and Meta to find customers. Some of the people it pays to reach are already in the database. The brand is buying back, at auction prices, attention it once owned and let lapse. That is the reacquisition tax: the share of marketing spend that goes to winning back customers the brand already had.

So the dormant half sits in an odd position. It is too risky to email, too valuable to delete and too quiet to count. Nobody owns it. The CRM team’s targets are built on the responsive base. The acquisition team’s targets are built on new customers, and a dormant customer it reacquires looks, on its dashboard, like a new one. The dormant half falls between two budgets and belongs to neither.

This essay argues that the problem is not the asset. It is the economics of operating that asset one brand at a time. It takes its frame from an unlikely place: a Milan-based software company that has built a business valued at about $18 billion at its July 2026 listing, and above $33 billion after Berkshire Hathaway added to its stake this month, by taking over products that other people had stopped running well.

2   A database is not an audience

A dormant list is not an audience. It is the raw material for one.

Start with a distinction that most marketing dashboards blur. A database is a list of addresses the brand is permitted to email. An audience is the set of people who will pay attention when it does. The first is an accounting asset. The second is an attention asset. Real Reach measures the gap between them: the number of customers who have engaged in the last ninety days, set against the size of the list.

Consider an illustrative brand with ten million addresses. Two million read its email with some regularity. Three million are fading: they still open occasionally, but less often than last year. Five million have not engaged in months. The brand’s list says ten million. Its Real Reach says two.

Figure 1. The accounting asset and the attention asset. Illustrative split, not a market estimate.

This matters because almost every email metric is computed against the wrong denominator. Open rates and click rates are reported on sends, so a brand that stops emailing its dormant half looks healthier, not weaker. The list stays large, the rates improve, and nobody sees that the attention asset is shrinking.

It is also worth being precise about what the dormant half contains. It is not an audience waiting to be switched back on. Some of those people no longer need the category. Some have moved to a competitor. Some addresses have been abandoned, and a few have been recycled into traps that mailbox providers use to catch careless senders. Some customers withdrew their permission in spirit long ago, even if they never clicked unsubscribe. A dormant list contains a potential audience, mixed with addresses that should never be emailed again.

That is why the argument has to be made carefully. The opportunity is not to email the dormant half. It is to find the part of it that can still become an audience, earn that audience back, and leave the rest alone. Doing that well is expensive, and the expense is the reason almost no brand does it.