Bad Managers

Everyone in the modern enterprise claims to want innovation, but few will risk what it requires. The fear of disturbance—of deviating from the delicate choreography of compliance and plausible deniability—has become the governing logic of management. Systems now reward those who maintain appearances, not those who learn. The result is a recursive theatre of progress: the gestures of agility performed against a backdrop of deep structural paralysis. Responsibility has been collectivised out of existence, replaced by the procedural rituals of a civilisation terrified of its own reflection, unable to admit the scale of the mess it has made for fear of being held accountable.

Meanwhile, communication itself has imploded into reflex and performance. The field that once sustained thought through tension and delay now collapses under its own immediacy. Information circulates without friction, meaning without depth; attention decays into acceleration. The smallest, shortest, most myopic signals dominate—the entropy of self-gratification steering the wheel. What once connected us now consumes us, and the possibility of a logic capable of binding complexity through coherence feels almost mythic. Yet, even in this vacuum, the outline of that lost field remains: a reminder that difference, if allowed to live, is not disorder but the only stable form of intelligence left.