Two new lawyers had a novel idea they wanted to try. And they did what most can’t be bothered to do. They asked first.

The Opinion was issued in response to this request by Stephanie Lynn Ramos and Miriam Lacroix, who at the time had just graduated law school and were looking for a way to fund a practice – initially conceived of as a non-profit – that would provide quality services to immigrants in need of competent legal representation.

Sure, it was only the New York State Bar Association, which has no authority to decide anything, but this was the only game in town to get an advisory opinion on the ethics of crowdsourcing the funding to start their law firm. And the NYSBA’s response was sound.

A law firm may engage in certain types of crowdfunding but not others.  Any form of fundraising that gives the investor an interest in a law firm or a share of its revenue would be prohibited.  However, in some circumstances a law firm may give the funding source some kind of reward. For example, a law firm may send a funder non-confidential memoranda discussing legal issues (provided the law firm complies with any applicable advertising rules), or may agree that the law firm will provide pro bono legal services to certain charitable organizations, provided that the lawyer complies with Rule 1.1 regarding competence and the representation does not involve conflicts in violation of Rule 1.7 or Rule 1.9.

So how did the idea work out?

[W]e ran a crowdfunding campaign for about five months via Fundrazr, which was great. In those five months, we only raised about 6% of our $10,000 goal, but this was still a major success for us.

Apparently, different people define “major success” differently. Achieving 6% of the goal doesn’t strike me as particularly successful. In fact, it seems like a huge failure. But they tried, and they went about it the right way. By that metric, it was a success.

In the process, there were some lessons learned, both about the efficacy of social justice goals and the utility of crowdfunding, which is one of those new-fangled ideas that has struck a note with many who are enamored with technology as a solution. They learned that not-for-profits aren’t as easily accomplished as one might think, either in their creation and maintenance or financing.  They also learned that the technology’s promise may only reach 6%. Better than nothing, but not as much as hoped.

Allison Arieff asks a question that many fans of technology don’t want to answer.

Every day, innovative companies promise to make the world a better place. Are they succeeding?

She then offers a laundry list of innovations, “all promising a better life.” Because we need an app to remind us to feed the cat.

We are overloaded daily with new discoveries, patents and inventions all promising a better life, but that better life has not been forthcoming for most. In fact, the bulk of the above list targets a very specific (and tiny!) slice of the population. As one colleague in tech explained it to me recently, for most people working on such projects, the goal is basically to provide for themselves everything that their mothers no longer do.

That may be a bit snarky. What people working on such projects hope to do is find something people want and will pay for, and make money. There is nothing wrong with trying. There is nothing wrong with wanting to make money. That doesn’t mean it’s going to happen, but they have the right to try. And to fail. And to try again, rinse, repeat.

But the impulse to conflate toothbrush delivery with Nobel Prize-worthy good works is not just a bit cultish, it’s currently a wildfire burning through the so-called innovation sector. Products and services are designed to “disrupt” market sectors (a.k.a. bringing to market things no one really needs) more than to solve actual problems, especially those problems experienced by what the writer C. Z. Nnaemeka has described as “the unexotic underclass” — single mothers, the white rural poor, veterans, out-of-work Americans over 50 — who, she explains, have the “misfortune of being insufficiently interesting.”

Arieff just took a tacit leap to the left. While she’s right that there has been a ridiculous tendency to conflate puny ideas with “worthy good works,” she suggests that apps that serve Nobel Prize-worthy goals will achieve the success that eludes the truthbrush delivery app.

If the most fundamental definition of design is to solve problems, why are so many people devoting so much energy to solving problems that don’t really exist? How can we get more people to look beyond their own lived experience?

This is where technology meets religion.  The first part, about solving non-existent problems, is something of a truism, though that isn’t necessarily the death of an idea. Pet rock made a lot of money. But the assumption that if tech was focused on social justice goals, it would find success is just blatant wishful thinking.  Putting aside the problem of what is a worthy goal, there is the assumption that goals that appeal to trendy concepts of justice will capture interest and have a greater chance of success.

It’s hard to say what goes viral and why. Many have tried to answer that question, but no one has done so (even though they have an app for that).  To contend that much of the effort put into technology is wasted, not just because the ideas are kinda puny, but because they seek (usually poorly) to solve non-existent problems, is true. To contend that tech designed to address social justice issues will succeed does not follow.

Stephanie Lynn Ramos and Miriam Lacroix had a good idea. Their goals were lofty, and they went about it responsibly and ethically. And yet, it didn’t produce.  The promise of technology is that it can’t keep its promise. That doesn’t mean you can’t try, but wrapping it up in a bow of worthy goals doesn’t mean anyone will buy it.