Why I Prefer Simple Code Over "Smart" Code

When I started learning to code, I thought good code meant clever code.

You know, short variable names. One-liners that did a bunch of stuff at once. Logic squeezed into as few lines as possible.

It looked impressive. It felt impressive.

But over time, something became really clear: the code I understood fastest was never the "smart" one. It was always the simple one.

And that kind of changed how I think about writing code.

What "Smart" Code Usually Means

When people say "smart" code, they usually mean stuff like:

• really compact logic

• clever tricks and shortcuts

• doing more with fewer lines

• code that makes you go "wait, how does that even work?"

Look, I'm not saying clever code is always bad. Sometimes it makes sense.

But here's what I noticed: that "smart" code? Really hard to read. Especially when it's someone else's code.

You Don't Read Code Just Once

you don't just write code and forget about it.

You come back to it. You need to fix something. You want to add a feature. You completely forgot how that one function worked.

And when the code is simple? All of that becomes so much easier.

Simple code tells you a story. You don't have to stop every few lines and decode what's happening.

Honestly, when I open something I wrote a month ago, I just want to understand it without getting annoyed at myself.

An Actual Example From My Code

Okay, real talk. I was calculating a shopping cart total and wrote this:

# My "clever" version
total = sum([item['price'] * item['qty'] for item in cart if item['available']])

One line. Worked perfectly. Felt efficient.

I stared at it for a minute thinking, “This works… but how am I supposed to change it without breaking something?"

So I just rewrote it:

# Simple version
total = 0
for item in cart:
    if item['available']:
        total += item['price'] * item['qty']

Yeah, it’s more lines. But at least I could understand it.

Nothing felt hidden. So when I needed to change it, I wasn’t worried about breaking everything.

Debugging Simple Code Doesn't Make Me Want to Quit

When something breaks, I really don't want to untangle some clever nested logic.

I just want to see what went wrong. Where did the value change? Where did the condition fail? What broke and why?

With simple code, the problem usually jumps out at you. With "smart" code, everything's packed so tight that even finding a small bug takes forever.

And as someone still learning, that matters. Debugging is already hard enough without the code itself fighting you.

Simple Doesn't Mean Messy

Wait, I should clarify something.

Simple code doesn't mean:

• bad code

• repetitive code that could be better

• no structure at all

Simple code just means: clear, readable, understandable.

Some of the best code I've seen online is simple. Not because the person couldn't write something fancier, but because they cared more about being clear than being impressive.

Clarity Over Cleverness

I'm not anti-clever-code. I'm just saying: clever code that nobody can read doesn't help me improve.

Right now, I want code that:

I can read without squinting

I can debug without crying

I can actually explain if someone asks

Maybe someday I'll write more advanced stuff. But even then, I hope I don't sacrifice clarity just to look clever.

Because code isn't just about making it work. It's about making it understandable.

And for me, simple code does that way better.

How do you approach this when you’re coding? Curious what works for you.

Comments

[123]

This piece perfectly captures a critical truth about software development: simplicity in code is far more valuable than superficial cleverness. When I first learned to code, I also fell into the trap of chasing "smart" code—using overly compact one-liners, cryptic variable names, and clever tricks to make my code look "impressive." I thought fewer lines equated to better programming skills.
But as the author points out, "smart" code quickly becomes a liability. It’s hard to read, harder to debug, and nearly impossible for teammates (or even future me) to maintain. A single clever one-liner that does five things at once might save a few lines, but it’ll cost hours of time later when someone has to unpack what it’s actually doing. Simple code, by contrast, is self-documenting: clear variable names, straightforward logic, and modular functions make it easy to follow, modify, and fix—even months after it’s written.
Of course, there are edge cases where compact, optimized code makes sense (e.g., performance-critical sections). But for 99% of everyday programming, prioritizing readability and simplicity isn’t just a "beginner" habit—it’s a mark of a mature developer who understands that code is meant to be communicated as much as it’s meant to be executed. This article is a great reminder to reframe how we judge "good code": not by how clever it is, but by how easily it’s understood.