What if your team isn't stuck — it's undead? What if the real energy drain isn't overwork, but the roles, rituals, and relationships that consume without giving back? From the slow contagion of zombies to the charismatic tyranny of vampires, horror offers a mirror to the psychodynamic shadows in our systems.

This Think Piece expands upon themes explored in CORI Module 2, which examines the 'undead' in organisational contexts—those elements that persist without purpose, draining energy and hindering growth. By drawing parallels between horror tropes and organisational behaviour, it considers how we can better understand and address these dynamics.

1 | Zombie Systems: The Realm Where Nothing Is Metabolised
In the horror canon, zombies are not villains in the traditional sense. They are symptoms. The zombie apocalypse signals a world where systems have collapsed, a d all that remains is the relentless drive to survive by consuming others. Zombies don’t innovate. They don’t metabolise. They persist through endless repetition, feeding off the living.

In organizational life, zombie systems manifest as roles that no longer serve a purpose, rituals followed without meaning, and decisions made because "we've always done it this way." These undead elements exist in a kind of psychic stasis — present but unexamined, consuming time, morale, and energy.

The figural power of the zombie lies in its arrested development: it is dead but will not die. These structures are sustained not by vitality, but by inertia and fear. We keep them alive because to bury them would mean confronting grief, change, or the unknown.

2 | Vampire Leadership and the Myth of Empowerment: A Renfield Reading
If zombies represent inertia, vampires reflect hierarchy and seduction. In Renfield (2023), the dynamic between Nicolas Cage's Dracula and Nicolas Hoult's Renfield dramatizes the toxic, codependent relationship between dominant systems and their enablers.

Renfield is promised purpose, power, and proximity to greatness. In exchange, he devours insects and performs grisly errands to sustain Dracula’s appetite. Dracula, meanwhile, positions himself as irreplaceable, framing his consumption as noble, even necessary.

The myth of empowerment is laid bare: Renfield eats bugs for strength, while Dracula feasts on humans. The hierarchy of appetite and power is clear—and reflective of the questions Dialogic OD practitioners ask about who gets to consume whom, and under what justification.

In many systems, this plays out as symbolic gestures of inclusion—offering minor gains or recognition to those doing the heavy lifting—while those in power consume the real rewards: visibility, credit, influence. The empowered subordinate is not empowered at all. He is simply fed enough to continue serving.

And often, the one who feasts insists he is misunderstood, burdened, or benevolent—masking extraction as stewardship. The system, then, becomes complicit in upholding this compact, calling it loyalty, tradition, or legacy.

Many organizations have their own Draculas: charismatic leaders or legacy systems that are upheld by loyal Renfields. The system appears to function, but only through quiet extraction — of labour, time, or soul. This is not just exploitation; it's a psychodynamic compact. The servant fears autonomy as much as the master fears irrelevance.

3 | Caution in Naming: The Ethics of Labelling as Undead
Not all that seems undead truly is. Sometimes, what appears stagnant is in a state of incubation. Sometimes, what we call “zombie roles” or “vampiric leaders” are containers for grief, trauma, or unmetabolised history.

To name something or someone as undead is never neutral. It is often a projective act—a way for a system to disown its own anxiety, loss, or ambivalence by casting it outward. It is easier to label someone "dead weight" than to ask what part of the system might be keeping them from thriving. Or what stories we’ve refused to hear.

This rush to name can become a form of organisational scapegoating, silencing those whose pain or resistance threatens the system’s self-image. The one who moves differently, or not at all, may not be lifeless—they may be carrying the weight of something no one has dared to ask about.

True Dialogic OD practice demands more than clever metaphors. It demands care. It asks us to pause before naming. To wonder before interpreting. And to open space for dialogue where judgement once stood.

4 | Breaking the Spell: Releasing the Undead
To shift an undead system is to risk dismantling the familiar. But Dialogic OD practices offer tools for gentle exorcism. Shadow boards, voice forums, and ritualised closures are not gimmicks. They are acts of metabolising what has been silenced.

Like tending to the forest floor—removing what chokes, not what feeds—the process of metabolisation requires care.

Beneath the surface of a forest, vast networks of mycelium quietly decompose dead matter, turning what once was into nourishment for what could be. These mycelial systems do not reject the dead; they metabolise it. They transform decay into new life, connecting trees and plant life in invisible webs of communication and exchange.

In organisational life, we often rush to discard what seems lifeless. But what looks like death may still carry energy—waiting for conditions safe enough to decompose, to speak, to return. Systems cannot compost what they refuse to feel. And without that compost, no real diversity, richness, or resilience can emerge.

The question is not just strategic but emotional: can the organisation mourn, release, and integrate what it once kept undead?

5 | Closing Image: The Hunger and the Cure
Horror teaches us that the monster often reflects us back to ourselves. The undead elements in our systems are not foreign invaders; they are of our own making. We keep feeding them because we’re afraid of what might emerge if they vanish.

But in Dialogic OD, as in life, the answer is not to kill the monster, but to integrate the shadow. To name what has gone unsaid. To metabolise the dead weight. And in doing so, to make room for something truly alive.

6 | Reflection Prompts: Naming with Care, Leading with Presence
Before you name something—or someone—as stuck, stagnant, or undead, pause with these questions:

For Leaders

• What (or who) in my system have I dismissed as unproductive? Have I truly listened before letting them go?
• What energies are systems or people carrying in the form of unspoken grief, trauma, or untended histories?
• What am I avoiding by rushing to name the “problem”?

For OD Practitioners

• What metaphors am I reaching for—and why? Are they opening space or closing it?
• When I diagnose, do I hold enough care to remain in relationship with the diagnosed?
• What part of the system might be projecting its anxiety onto what it calls “dead”?

For Facilitators and Educators

• How do I make room for the metabolisation of silence, resistance, or withdrawal?
• What does it mean to create a space where decay can become compost?
• Am I rushing to resolve, or am I honouring the rhythm of emergence?

The real question may not be “What is undead here?” But rather “What have we failed to mourn, to ask, or to witness into transformation?” Horror teaches us that the monster often reflects us back to ourselves. The undead elements in our systems are not foreign invaders; they are of our own making. We keep feeding them because we’re afraid of what might emerge if they vanish.

Introduction
Naming is never a harmless turn of phrase. A single label can redraw alliances, redirect budgets or, as in Alden Pyle’s doomed “Third Force” experiment in The Quiet American, leave real people trapped inside someone else’s frame. This Think Piece explores why naming is an intervention, contrasts inflated versus earned approaches, and offers practical disciplines plus reflection prompts for leaders, new OD practitioners and curious learners.

1 | “He Meant Well”: Alden Pyle, Naming‑as‑Power & Ontological Discipline

“Somehow I always believed he meant well. But meaning well isn’t the same as understanding.”

–  Thomas Fowler on Alden Pyle, The Quiet American (1955)

In Graham Greene’s 1955 novel The Quiet American, Alden Pyle is a young U.S. operative who arrives in 1950s Vietnam clutching journalist York Harding’s grand theory of a “Third Force” – a supposedly clean, pro-Western alternative to both French colonial power and Communist revolution. Convinced he can sort Vietnamese factions into good patriots and bad extremists, he bankrolls a covert intervention he scarcely understands; bombs go off in public places, civilians die inside the frame he invents with the city learning the costs of his certainty.

Greene wrote Pyle as the embodiment of innocent arrogance – the well-meaning but dangerous idealist whose certainty is immune to experience. In OD terms, Pyle exemplifies epistemic omnipotence: a defended rush-to-know-and-fix that uses premature naming to evacuate anxiety. In Tavistock language, it’s a manic defence against not-knowing (Wilfred Bion’s -K representing a move away from learning), where interpretation substitutes for contact, certainty for curiosity. This is the consultant’s shadow: the impulse to “diagnose” before contact, to mistake projection for insight, and to treat revelation as a “gotcha” moment instead of a shared discovery. The enduring relevance of Greene’s The Quiet American is evident in its two film adaptations (1958 and 2002), each version revisiting the same moral blindness through a contemporary lens. The story persists because the archetype it exposes – the well-intentioned but morally culpable intervener blind to their own assumptions – remains alive in every era, including our consulting rooms.

Pyle’s tragedy is not malice but naïve certainty: his power to name outran his willingness to listen. This is a textbook case of inflated naming – labels imposed without relational license or contextual sense‑making. It also foreshadows the remedy explored later: ontological discipline – the practice of suspending judgement long enough for the system to teach you how it wants to be named. In short, Pyle’s tragedy shows what happens when labels move faster than listening; ontological discipline asks us to reverse that order.

2 | Naming Is Never Neutral
In Organisation Development (OD), naming is an intervention: it frames issues, allocates responsibility and decides what data counts. The moment an OD consultant declares “This team has low psychological safety,” the system reorganises around that label.

Done well, naming surfaces the hidden; done poorly, it distorts feedback loops and becomes self‑fulfilling. In OD, the Use‑of‑Self stance is both practical and ethical: notice the impulse behind your words and test whether the system asked for that frame. Epistemic humility – recognising that my map is not the territory – forms the ethical guard‑rail.

CORI Module 2 helps participants understand "the elements of human motivation as well as human resistance […] to have better leverage in leading and influencing human systems" inviting practitioners to notice the impulse behind their words. Are we naming to serve the system, or to display expertise? Epistemic humility – knowing that our map is not the territory – is therefore a core discipline.

3 | Inflated vs. Earned Naming
Naming, like labels, can either act like fast‑drying concrete or a mirror polished gradually enough for a system to recognise itself. Inflated naming happens when we rush to diagnose, borrowing fashionable jargon, soothing our own anxiety, or signaling expertise. These premature labels freeze inquiry, alienate stakeholders, and often become self‑fulfilling prophecies. Earned naming, by contrast, is the fruit of disciplined listening: the label arises only after multiple perspectives have been heard, patterns sensed, and reciprocal trust established. Such names invite further exploration, distribute ownership of the insight, and help energy flow toward constructive change.

	Inflated Naming	Earned Naming
Speed & Source	Fast; driven by ego or borrowed jargon.	Slow unfolding; emerges from deep listening & sensing.
Impact on Inquiry	Closes the question (“That’s just resistance”)	Opens the question (“What’s underneath this pattern?”)
System Response	System either rejects the naming or splinters around it.	Holds the mirror to the system; system mobilises around it.

Why it matters: In dialogic OD, an inflated naming can work like a hall‑of‑mirrors: it bends the feedback loop, and the system warps itself to fit the reflection. Viktor Smith’s landmark studies on naming and framing show that a team branded “change‑resistant” begins to screen out any disconfirming data, while a title co‑created and held loosely sharpens shared perception and keeps learning loops open (Smith, 2021). Popular culture dramatises both paths. If Alden Pyle is literature’s emblem of naming without knowing, Don’t Look Up (2021) is the pop culture satirical version: leaders rebrand an extinction-level comet as a “rare-earth opportunity,” proving how inflated labels can mute feedback loops and magnify harm. In Ex Machina (2015) tech visionary Nathan reduces a sentient AI to “just a test,” only to be overthrown by the agency he refused to acknowledge. Like Alden Pyle, these characters remind us that inflated naming is never neutral – it is hubris made audible.

Conclusion: The Quiet Pause Before Naming

“Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response.”

— Viktor Frankl

The lesson of Alden Pyle reminds us that certainty in naming can be harmful, particularly when it precedes the essential relational contact needed to understand a system. Premature labels are not simply about getting things wrong – they close off the potential for discovery. Recognising our tendencies to name quickly is the first step in creating the space for a deeper, more reflective practice. In Part B: Naming as Practice – Cultivating Ontological Discipline, we explore how to slow down the process, create connection, and earn the right to name, rather than impose it.

Introduction
In Part A, we explored how rushed labels distort systems and the dangers of premature diagnosis and intervention. Now, we shift our focus to ontological discipline – the practice of cultivating epistemic humility through disciplined listening, and shared cartography. This section provides practical tools for OD practitioners and leaders, offering micro-practices and exercises to slow down diagnostic impulses, deepen relational contact, and create space for the system to name itself.

1| Ontological Discipline: How to slow down naming
Where Part A diagnosed the what of inflated versus earned naming, this section turns to the how: the inner discipline that makes earned naming possible. If inflated naming is an anxious grab for certainty, ontological discipline is the art of staying long enough in not‑knowing for a more accurate name to emerge.

In Arrival (2016), linguist Louise Banks spends weeks decoding alien logograms before she dares to label anything. Her slow, dialogic approach – listening until the “other” teaches her its grammar – prevents an interstellar war. The film offers a three‑step model for practice:

1. Suspend closure: treat first impressions as hypotheses, not headlines.
2. Attend to and track patterns: let data cluster and speak before you translate it.
3. Name tentatively: when a label finally arrives, hold it in open palms, ready to revise.

In OD work the analogy is simple: pause before dropping a diagnostic tag. Ask yourself, “What am I protecting by rushing to name? Whose voice might be muted if this label sticks?”

Micro‑practices for OD practitioners

• Contain before you interpret: Hold the anxiety before formalising any diagnosis. The function: containment, not avoidance.
• Separate O-I-F: Speak in Observations, Inferences, and Feelings e.g. “What I observed was…The figural that seems to be surfacing is…I felt…” instead of suggesting what it “means”. The function: protects K (Bion’s K = learning from experience) against -K (-K = attack on linking and knowing).
• Seek disconfirmation: Invite at least one piece of counter-evidence before any label firms up e.g. “What might make this wrong?” The function: reality testing to keep names provisional.
• Surface projections and transference: For example, “What am I being asked to be here – rescuer, fixer, judge?”. The function: catches projective identification and the manic defence of rushing-to-know-and-fix.

Reflection questions

• Leaders: When was the last time a problem was renamed too quickly? What consequential ripple did that create?
• Practitioners: Ask yourself, which body‑signals (tight jaw, racing thoughts) tell me I’m craving premature certainty?
• Learners: Ask yourself, where can I practise a deliberate listening lag – at work, home, or study – before offering any label?

Ontological discipline slows language down just enough for reality to join the conversation, turning naming from an act of control into an act of shared discovery.

2| Shared Cartography: Facilitating without Colonising
The earlier sections established why rushed naming distorts reality and how ontological discipline creates space for truer labels to surface. Shared cartography turns that inner discipline outward: mapping the system with its inhabitants so that no one is trapped inside another person’s frame.

CORI Module 3 invites participants to surface the mindsets, assumptions, and blind spots that steer behaviour, diagnose their own use of power and the biases it introduces, and build range in how they wield that power to shift their organisations. It also trains them to map the multi‑layered power dynamics acting on any team, including the external forces that can suddenly re‑tilt the system. The Pyle lesson applies: a map is useful only if those who must navigate it helped draw the lines. When the facilitator holds the pen alone, the map becomes colonial; when the group co‑authors, the map becomes a mirror.

The “Naming Retrospective” exercise for leaders and facilitators

1. Harvest the live labels: Ask participants to jot every label currently in circulation (e.g., “siloed,” “burnt‑out,” “innovation‑averse”).
Focus: Collect all current labels to give visibility to the language that is framing the system.
2. Trace origin & evidence: For each label, ask: Who coined it? What data supports it? Where does it show up (stories, metrics, felt‑sense)? Note who has the power to name it and spread it.
Focus: This step examines power dynamics and exposes hidden assumptions. Understanding where the label comes from helps prevent misalignment and identifies which voice dominate the framing.

3. Invite alternative framings: What other language keeps inquiry open? Whose voice might reframe this label? Notice how the precise use of language generates less blaming and opens options.
Focus: Encourages collaborative re-framing and inclusive language that opens the system to multiple interpretations. This helps move away from rigid, binary definitions.

4. Vote to keep, refine or retire: Make visible a decision table. Review each label’s impact on the system and decide which names/labels stay on the map, which need refinement, and which are released.
Focus: This step is about shared ownership of the labels and their evolving nature. Labels are provisional and subject to review to prevent them from becoming entrenched or harmful.

Why it works: The Naming Retrospective turns the act of naming from a unilateral decision into an iterative, and participatory practice. By bringing all the voices into the process, feedback loops stay open, ensuring that language remain fluid, inclusive, and aligned with the system’s true dynamics. This reduces defensiveness, prevents labels from calcifying into doctrine, and opens the door for shared discovery.

Micro‑cautions for facilitators

• Signal humility early: Frame the session as collective sense‑making, not expert diagnosis.
• Balance voices: Ensure quiet members speak before any decision to retain a label.
• Document transparently: Show the evolving map in real time so participants can verify accuracy.

Reflection questions

• Facilitators: How can I ensure that participants have equal space to contribute to the mapping process and that their voices shape the labels we use?
  Focus: Empowerment and inclusivity in the mapping process, ensuring that all voices are considered and not dominated by one perspective.
• Leaders: In what ways might the labels reflect a top-down view, rather than one that is co-created with those deeply embedded in the system?
  Focus: Re-examining power dynamics and ensuring that labels are not imposed from above but created collaboratively.
• Practitioners & learners: How can I create space for regular reflection on the labels and language we use to describe the system? How might outdated or imprecise labels be limiting our understanding?
  Focus: Creating ongoing space for reflection and updating language to maintain relevance and accuracy.
• Mind Role-Authority-Task: How does the distribution of roles, authority, and tasks influence the naming process? Who has the power to name, and what impact does that have on how the system is shaped?
  Focus: Reflecting on the authority behind naming and how roles and power dynamics influence language within the system.

Shared cartography converts naming from a unilateral act into shared meaning‑making, ensuring that any map of the system is large enough to include everyone’s terrain.

3| Safeguarding Epistemic Sovereignty in Shared Spaces
Epistemic sovereignty is the shared right of everyone present to define – or at least co‑author – the language that describes their own experience. Lose that right and the learning contracts: labels feel like verdicts, not mirrors. A companion idea is epistemic precision, the care we take to ensure any naming fits the data. Precision matters, but agency comes first; without it, even the most accurate diagnosis lands as a violation.

Spotting everyday breaches

Casual or coercive labels surface fast in, for instance, workshops, work systems or family systems:

• “She’s the blocker.”
• “This culture is toxic.”
• “You’re so resistant.”

Left unchallenged, these tags harden identities and shut down inquiry.

Three micro‑practices to keep the space fluid

Move	Sample Facilitator Language	Purpose
Surface the name	“A name just landed – shall we test it?”	Slows the rush to certainty.
Offer opt-outs	“Feel free to say, ‘That name doesn’t fit for me.’”	Restores agency.
Facilitator models language by using first-person data	“I felt unheard in that meeting” instead of “You’re defensive.”	Grounds the conversation in observable facts by holding the mirror to the system; system mobilises around it.

Practised consistently and with respect, these moves preserve agency and keep feedback loops alive.

Reflection prompts

• Facilitators: Which of these moves do I default to, and which do I avoid? Why?
• Leaders: When did I last accept a team label at face value – and what did that cost us?
• Practitioners & Learners: Notice the next time you labelled a colleague; what need or anxiety is under that impulse?

Guarding epistemic sovereignty turns every workshop and shared space into a zone where insight can circulate freely, unencumbered by premature verdicts.

Conclusion: Quiet Listener, Not Quiet American

“Before she named, she listened to the shape of the system. And only when the language changed her did she speak.”

- Inspired by Louise Banks’s method in Arrival.

Linguist Louise Banks in Arrival models this discipline. She allows the heptapods’ logograms to reshape her own thinking – studying, sketching, revising – before she dares to assign meaning. Her slow, dialogic approach averts interstellar war and shows that language, wielded too quickly, can become a weapon.

The same lesson underpins Graham Greene’s cautionary tale of Alden Pyle. In dialogic OD, good intentions collapse without relational understanding. When we reach for premature certainty, naming slides from illumination into colonisation. The crown we must refuse, therefore, is certainty; the practice we must cultivate is quiet listening before loud labelling.

The discipline, then, is to refuse the crown of certainty; let listening lead and naming follow – earning the right to name by first letting the system name itself. Done this way, naming shifts from conquest to hospitality, opening room for individuals and teams to recognise and reshape themselves.

Final reflection prompts

• Readers: How does the system you are part of influence your ability to “name” its dynamics? How can you bring more listening into that process?
• Leaders: How might embracing a slower, more reflective naming process change the way your team communicates and engages with challenges?
• Practitioners & learners: Reflecting on your own use of power, where do you feel most compelled to “name” quickly? What personal anxiety drives you to diagnose quickly? What would it mean to suspend that impulse to impose a label for a moment?

Quiet Listeners change systems more sustainably than Quiet Americans armed with borrowed blueprints.

****

References

Barbrook-Johnson, P., & Penn, A. S. (2022). Participatory Systems Mapping. In Systems Mapping: How to build and use causal models of systems (pp. 61–78). Palgrave. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-01919-7_5

Brody, R. (2022, January 6). The Crude Demagogy of “Don’t Look Up.” The New Yorker. https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-front-row/the-crude-demagogy-of-dont-look-up

Gibson, P. (2023). Rethinking Mental Health: Challenging the Dangers of Labels. Psychology Today. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/escaping-our-mental-traps/202307/rethinking-mental-health-challenging-the-dangers-of-labels

Greene, G. (1955). The Quiet American. London Penguin.

Kidd, I. J. (2015). Intellectual Humility, Confidence, and Argumentation. Topoi, 35(2), 395–402. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11245-015-9324-5

Muyskens, K., Ang, C., & Kerr, E. T. (2025). Relational epistemic humility in the clinical encounter. Journal of Medical Ethics, jme-110241. https://doi.org/10.1136/jme-2024-110241

Park, R. (2021, May 18). Use of Self in Organisational Development | Roffey Park Institute. Roffey Park Institute. https://www.roffeypark.com/articles/use-of-self-as-an-instrument-in-organisational-development/

Participatory Systems Mapping: a practical guide. (n.d.). In Centre for the Evaluation of Complexity Across the Nexus. https://www.cecan.ac.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/PSM-Workshop-method.pdf

Smith, V. (2021). Naming and Framing: Understanding the power of words across disciplines, domains, and modalities; understanding the power of words across. Routledge.

 

Introduction: When Hidden Forces Erupt
Imagine a Netflix series where a seemingly ordinary teenager spirals into darkness, influenced by toxic online mentors and hidden pain. Adolescence, a recent drama, does exactly that – it follows 13-year-old Jamie, an average boy from a loving but imperfect family, who becomes caught in a tragic sequence of events driven by covert forces. These hidden influences include online radicalization, toxic masculinity, and the devastating power of secrets and grief.

For those of us in Organizational Development (OD), Jamie’s story is more than compelling drama – it’s a powerful metaphor for what happens when covert dynamics remain unaddressed in any human system – whether in the workplace or the family. Just as unnoticed turmoil within a family can lead to tragedy, unresolved issues and unacknowledged dynamics within organizations can quietly undermine even the most carefully planned business initiatives.

Why use a TV show to talk about organizations? Because powerful stories like Adolescence can vividly illustrate complex, abstract OD concepts in a way everyone can understand. In this two-part exploration, we use Jamie’s journey – through radicalisation, anger, and heartbreak – as a springboard to unpack two core themes: online radicalization and toxic masculinity. Along the way, we draw connections to OD concepts explored in CORI Module 6, “Seeing covert dynamics in our organisation.” The goal: to help anyone – not just OD specialists – spot those unconscious, unspoken and unspeakable dynamics that quietly shape workplace culture.

Note: No major spoilers beyond the basic premise. The focus is on themes and lessons, so even if you have not seen Adolescence, you’ll be able to follow and won’t have the show ruined.

From Online Radicalization to Echo Chambers in Organizations
In Adolescence, Jamie is drawn into an online echo chamber, the "manosphere," where misogynistic ideas distort his worldview, fueling his anger and isolation. He’s essentially radicalized by an echo chamber of extreme ideas. While organizations don't usually deal with internet trolls, they frequently experience similar echo chambers internally: project teams, departments, or cliques where a certain mindset goes unchallenged, certain perspectives dominate and opposing views are silenced or ignored.

Have you ever observed a department or project team becoming increasingly “siloed,” only validating their own ideas and rejecting outside input? That's an organizational echo chamber at work. Just as Jamie’s YouTube binge of chauvinist content fueled his anger, an insular team at work might silently feed on rumors or a shared resentment. The result can be groupthink, resistance to outside input, or even a subgroup of employees who start to feel at odds with the rest of the organization’s values. 

OD practitioners often describe these echo chambers – isolated pockets within organisations – as covert dynamics: unconscious undercurrents that, when left unchecked, silently build resentment. Over time, these hidden dynamics lead to fragmentation, ignite open conflicts, or result in abrupt departures, catching leadership completely off guard – just like Jamie’s unsuspecting family who remained blind to what was unfolding beyond their sight.

From Toxic Masculinity to Toxic Workplace Culture
Another powerful theme in Adolescence is toxic masculinity. Jamie’s journey into darkness is marked by increasingly aggressive behavior – demeaning and intimidating others as a way to assert dominance and control. At one point, he belittles his female psychologist just to feel in control. This mirrors a sadly familiar workplace covert dynamic: toxic cultures, where an aggressive ethos, though often not officially acknowledged, dominates. 

We have seen it in companies where an aggressive “winning at all costs” culture goes unspoken, subtly communicating that aggression, competition, and emotional detachment are signs of strength, while empathy and vulnerability are viewed as weaknesses. Employees may endure or even perpetuate toxic behaviors, thinking, "that's just how it is here." 

These “unspeakable” dynamics are unconscious forces — issues that are culturally taboo or too risky to address directly. Yet they persist in jokes, side comments, or the behavior of influential figures. If left unaddressed, this toxic energy becomes part of the company’s unconscious habits – the kind of covert dynamic that erodes trust, inclusion, and resilience. Everyone senses something is wrong, but it’s hard to pin down in polite conversation. When these toxic patterns persist unchallenged, trust and morale erode, often leading to quiet dysfunction beneath a veneer of professional composure. Over time, it can lead to dysfunction as teams fracture along the lines of power and fear.

From Adolescence to Organizational Realities
Both themes—online radicalization (echo chambers) and toxic masculinity (toxic culture)—clearly illustrate how covert dynamics function. They highlight the importance of recognizing and addressing what is unconscious, unspoken, or culturally unspeakable within organizations. CORI Module 6 emphasizes that these invisible undercurrents are potent forces; ignoring them risks organizational health and effectiveness.

A Reflective Teaser
What happens when a workplace ignores grief and emotional wounds after a crisis? And what can organizational leaders learn from family systems shattered by unspeakable trauma? Join us in Part B, where we will explore even deeper layers of covert dynamics — family breakdown and their echoes in organisational life — and share strategies to bring these hidden issues safely to the surface.

In Part A of this series, we explored how the Netflix show Adolescence uses themes of online radicalization and toxic masculinity to mirror organizational challenges. We discussed how online echo chambers in the show reflect workplace echo chambers that reinforce groupthink, and how toxic masculinity in the story served as a metaphor for toxic work cultures. Now, in Part B, we revisit Adolescence to explore two more poignant themes – family breakdown and grief – and their echoes in organizational life: how teams fragment, and how organizations hold unresolved trauma.

From Family Breakdown to Team Fragmentation
One of the powerful threads in Adolescence is a family in turmoil. The series portrays how a family is shattered by an unspeakable incident. Jamie’s parents and sister start as a flawed but loving family unit, but the fallout of his actions leaves that family in pieces. The show portrays the heartbreak and grief of this breakdown: Parents and siblings drift into their own corners, avoiding the hard conversations. What happens when a family falls apart? In the show, we see emotional walls go up and each member struggling alone with confusion and perhaps, resentment. This scenario is all too relatable — not just at home, but in our workplaces as well.

In organizations, fragmentation often follows unprocessed trauma, signalling a system in mourning. A scandal, sudden retrenchment or the loss of a beloved leader can rupture the psychological contract – triggering anxiety, fear, anger, sadness, and disorientation. Yet, in many work cultures, these affective undercurrents remain unspoken, or suppressed, leading to deepening silos, blame and mistrust. The once-cohesive unit begins to splinter. 

As with the Miller family in Adolescence, who struggle with shame and sorrow, the trauma in an organization lies not in just what happened but in what could not be named. Without collective sense-making, systems unconsciously defend against pain: fragmenting into silos, replaying historical tensions, or emotionally checking out. What manifests as visible dysfunction – missed targets, chronic misunderstandings, high turnover – is often the organisation’s way of expressing unresolved grief, shame, fear or the presence of unacknowledged wounds no one dares to name.

Have you felt the shift? A moment when the team just didn’t feel the same anymore – where the atmosphere grew brittle and distant, but no one could quite say why. Often, just beneath the surface, lies a wound left untended: a hurt unspoken, a rupture glossed over. Maybe a reorganisation redrew reporting lines without explanation, leaving staff disoriented – like children struggling to make sense of their parents’ separation. Or perhaps a high performing “star” employee began violating norms with impunity, and the silence around it bred quiet resentment. These unacknowledged fractures erode the relational fabric of team cohesion. Over time, small cracks deepen into relational rifts. Like families in distress, when communication shuts down, the system retreats into defensiveness. Connection gives way to coping. Intimacy gives way to avoidance. And the system becomes a shell of its former cohesion. 

In Dialogic Organizational Development (OD), fragmentation is not viewed as a personnel problem but as a symptom of covert dynamics within the system. These dynamics are the unseen, unspoken, and often unconscious patterns that shape how we relate in groups, teams and organisations. When a team appears “dysfunctional,” OD practitioners ask: What is the system defending against? What grief, fear, or unacknowledged truth lies beneath the surface? 

Perhaps team members had unconsciously cast a long-serving boss into a parental role – and when that figure left, they experienced a deep loss they couldn’t name. Rather than mourning together, they emotionally withdrew, becoming disengaged. Or maybe two departments currently in conflict are unknowingly re-enacting unresolved historical rivalry, passed down like a family feud. These covert dynamics do more than quietly shape culture; they dictate whether a system coheres or fractures. 

As Adolescence reminds us, when a system denies its emotional reality, it begins to unravel. People don’t just burn out. They check out. And the organisation becomes a house filled with empty chairs and unspoken grief.

The takeaway? Teams don't fall apart only because of external factors; it can also break from within due to what’s left unsaid. Covert interpersonal wounds between colleagues – much like the unresolved hurt in a family – don’t disappear with time; they wait to be named and acknowledged. 

Preventing fragmentation begins with noticing those subtle cues: the hesitation in a meeting, the silence after a change, the joke that lands too hard. These are not minor glitches – they are signals. When we attend to them with care rather than judgment, we begin to surface what’s beneath the surface of our workflows: the emotions, tensions, and unspoken relational scripts that shape how we work together . Sometimes, that means having the difficult conversation that’s long been avoided. Sometimes, it calls for a neutral OD practitioner to hold the space for what the team cannot yet name.  Most of all, it means cultivating a culture where people feel safe enough to say: something doesn’t feel right. Catching these signals early can prevent quiet unravelling and save our “work family” from an untimely breakup.

From Grief and Loss to Organizational Trauma
Another theme Adolescence navigates with care is grief and loss. Without giving away spoilers, the show explores the aftermath of a tragic event in a young person’s life. It shows the heavy, confusing emotions that come with loss – sadness, anger, guilt – and importantly, how adults, peers, and the community struggle to address these feelings. We watch characters carry on with their routines, while inside they are anything but “fine.” Grief, when unspoken, becomes a silent weight that drives every interaction. In the series, a character’s inability to express or process loss leads to risky behaviors and emotional outbursts that others can’t quite understand. This is a powerful mirror for what can happen in our organizations when collective grief or trauma goes unaddressed.

Do companies grieve? At first glance, workplaces are about rational goals, not emotions. But organizations do experience forms of loss and trauma. Consider a startup that pours its heart into a project that then spectacularly fails, a nonprofit that loses funding and has to lay off staff, or a long-established firm where the beloved founder suddenly passes away. These events are shocks to the system. People in the organization feel them deeply: there may be fear, insecurity about the future, sadness for colleagues or work that was “lost,” even guilt in survivors (“Why did I keep my job while my friend was let go?”). When such painful events happen, the memory of them doesn’t just vanish. It lingers in the organizational psyche, much like personal trauma lives on in an individual.

Psychologists describe organizational trauma as a collective wound that overwhelms a system’s usual coping mechanisms, leaving it vulnerable or fundamentally changed. For example, a company that went through a public scandal might, even years later, find its employees overly cautious, distrustful of leadership, or reluctant to innovate – even if the original actors have long departed. It’s as if the organization has a scar. In day-to-day terms, unhealed organizational trauma can show up as chronic low morale, high turnover, fragmentation, and an “us-versus-them” mentality. But it also appears more subtly as a kind of energetic collapse : people quietly “check out”, disengage from initiatives, or do just enough to get by. The organisation might look busy on the surface, but underneath, there is an underlying sense of the system being too tired or afraid to risk trying again. When trauma is left unacknowledged, this residue lingers. The scar shapes every move the organisation makes, long after the crisis has passed. In other words, when a company doesn’t heal from a major blow, it struggles to function at its best going forward. 

Why do these wounds stay open? A big reason is that grief and pain become unspeakable at work. In Adolescence, the young characters often lack a safe outlet to talk about their losses – the adults around them either don’t notice the depth of their pain or don’t know how to respond. In organizations, leaders might similarly avoid discussing a traumatic event, perhaps thinking “Let’s focus on moving ahead” or fearing that opening up emotional discussions will be unproductive. There is also a cultural norm in many workplaces of “leave your personal feelings at the door”. The irony, of course, is that grief isn’t just a personal feeling when it’s shared across dozens or hundreds of employees – it becomes a collective mood, part of the workplace climate. If everyone is silently hurting but pretending to be fine, that pain goes underground, re-emerging as irritability, resistance to new initiatives, or a pervasive distrust.

Without some process of organizational mourning, the workplace can develop what feels like a permanent malaise or anxiety. The Adolescence narrative urges us to confront trauma – the psychologist in the show tries to get Jamie to talk about his feelings, hinting that naming the pain is the first step to healing. Likewise, in organizations, acknowledging collective grief (“Yes, that project’s failure hurt us all”) can be the first step to repairing trust and moving forward. Ignoring it, on the other hand, risks the trauma deepening its roots in the company psyche.

The key insight from Adolescence is that “ the unsaid organises the system.”  In fact, the covert, unspoken content often is what drives behavior and outcomes, more than the official policies or strategies. Every organization carries two stories: the “official” story (annual reports, KPIs, etc.) and the hidden story (fears, hopes, conflict, unprocessed hurt, etc.). When the hidden story is denied, it leaks out in covert ways and fragments the system e.g. subtle sabotage of new projects, chronic misunderstandings, or a culture of silence where everyone tiptoes around the real issues. OD practitioners understand that every system holds what it cannot say – and when these unspeakable forces are left unaddressed, they do not disappear. They seep into culture, distort communication, splinter trust, and create fractures that no strategy can mend, draining the collective energy needed to move the system forward.

So, how can we apply these insights to foster healthier organizations? Below is a reflection section with practical prompts and questions to help uncover the hidden dynamics in our work lives, plus some suggestions for how to engage in reflective practices. Consider these as invitations to start “seeing the covert dynamics” in your own work system to make the unspeakable speakable in a safe, constructive way.

Reflection: Bringing Light to the Unspoken
Before we wrap up, it’s useful to pause and reflect. Whether you’re a leader looking at your whole organization or an individual thinking about your team, examining these themes can reveal valuable insights. Here are some prompts and practices to get you started:

For Organizational Leaders (Systems-Level Reflection)

• Identify the Elephants: What topics or tensions in your organization are known by everyone yet never discussed openly? Why might people feel these issues are “undiscussable,” and what is the cost of that silence? Consider how you might safely bring those elephants into the room for honest dialogue.
  
  
• Gauge Psychological Safety: Do team members feel safe disagreeing with you or other leaders? How do you know? If important feedback or bad news tends to be watered down or delayed, it may indicate people are afraid to speak up. What steps can you take to signal that all concerns are welcome and won’t be met with punishment?
  
  
• Handling Conflict and Failure: How does your organization typically handle conflict, failure, or loss? For example, when a project fails or a valued employee leaves, is there a forum to talk about what people are feeling and learning? Or is the message “move on, don’t dwell on it”? Consider introducing rituals or meetings to acknowledge setbacks (even briefly) so that people feel their experience is recognised.

For Individuals (Personal Reflection)

• Your Unspoken Story: Reflect on a time at work when you didn’t speak up about something important. What held you back? How did that silence affect you and others? This could be an idea you had, a disagreement with the direction of a project, or a concern about a colleague’s behavior. What might have happened if you voiced it?
  
  
• Experiencing Fragmentation: Have you ever been part of a team that felt like it was “breaking apart”? What were the signs? How did it impact your sense of trust and motivation? Looking back, were there underlying issues (like a conflict or a leadership void) that no one explicitly addressed? How did that feel for you personally?
  
  
• Grief and Loss at Work: Think of a loss or major change you’ve experienced in your work life – it could be the loss of a mentor, a restructure that dissolved your favorite team, or even a personal loss that you carried with you to the office. How did your workplace handle it? Were you supported, or did you feel you had to pretend everything was okay? How did you cope, and is there any unprocessed feeling still lingering?
  
  
• The “Unspeakable” for You: Identify one thing in your workplace that you feel is “not okay to talk about,” but wish you could. Why is it unspeakable? Is it fear of judgment, company culture, past reactions? And what would need to change for you to feel comfortable bringing it up? Just acknowledging this to yourself is a first step; you might even write it down in a private journal.

Practices for Healing and Learning

• Dialogic Inquiry Sessions: Create structured opportunities for open dialogue in your team or organization. For example, host a monthly “safe space forum” where anyone can raise concerns or questions about how the team is working together. In these sessions, leaders should mostly listen. The goal is to surface hidden sentiments in a respectful setting. Ground rules (like confidentiality and no retaliation) help create a safe container for truth-telling.
  
  
• Acknowledge and Ritualize: Just as communities hold vigils or memorials, workplaces can benefit from small rituals of closure or appreciation. If a project ends in success or failure, consider holding a debrief not only on the tasks but on the experience. If a colleague leaves, take a moment to share memories or lessons learned from them. These practices help teams process events together, rather than each person privately dealing with it. It can be as simple as a dedicated agenda item or an informal gathering to say “this happened, and it matters to us.”
  
  
• Leadership Modeling of Vulnerability: Leaders set the tone. By openly acknowledging your own feelings and learning moments, you signal to others that it’s okay to do the same. Try phrases like, “I have to admit, I felt anxious when we lost that client, and I know some of you did too. Let’s talk about how it’s affecting us and how we can support each other.” This kind of transparency can defuse the unspeakable. It transforms hidden fears into shared problems the team can solve or carry together.
  
  
• External Support and Safe Channels: Sometimes internal dynamics are so stuck that you need an outside perspective. Consider bringing in an OD consultant, coach, or trained facilitator who understands group psychodynamics to help “unstick” the conversation. Additionally, providing anonymous channels for feedback (like surveys or suggestion boxes) can give voice to issues people might not be ready to attach their name to. Treat these as starting points to dig deeper, not as nuisances to brush off.
  

Conclusion: Making the Unspeakable Speakable
Adolescence may centre on teenagers, yet its lessons land squarely in organisational life. Families and companies are both human systems – built on trust, open dialogue, and shared resilience. When unspoken conflict or unacknowledged grief erodes those foundations, the fallout can be severe. The first act of repair is to name what lies hidden; only then can a system heal, adapt, and ultimately emerge stronger.

The same challenge applies to organisations: identify the covert dynamics and bring them safely into the light. Leaders who create space for difficult truths – about power, loss, or fear – transform “unspeakables” from corrosive secrets into shared problems the group can solve.

Behind every org chart and strategy, there are real people carrying real emotions. A truly resilient organisation cares not only about what work gets done, but how its people are really doing. That takes courage: to ask hard questions, listen for the quietest voices, and sit with discomfort until insight dawns. What remains hidden controls us; what is spoken can be understood and managed.

Let’s keep the conversation going – because making the invisible discussable is the first step toward meaningful, lasting change.