It is an uncomfortable truth that most organisations exist to sustain their own inertia. Systems accumulate procedures, forms, and roles that replicate themselves under the guise of necessity. Meaning, in this context, is not produced by purpose but by repetition—the continual reinforcement of structures that justify their own persistence. The illusion of productivity masks a deeper dynamic: communication optimised for survival rather than effect. What we call coordination is often the circulation of redundant signals—feedback loops designed to reassure the system that it still exists.
The paradox is that this redundancy feels essential. Culture, policy, and technical lore conspire to protect the surplus—meetings that produce minutes instead of change, hierarchies that distribute accountability but not agency. Organisations become ecosystems of self-reference, feeding on the energy of their own continuity. Yet within that inertia lies a kind of truth: systems evolve to preserve their gradients of dependency, not their stated goals. To understand this is not cynicism but clarity. Efficiency, stripped of self-delusion, begins where redundancy is no longer mistaken for purpose.