In the earliest seasons of work—when men and women came to the office with dreams instead of daggers—organizations thrived on the purity of purpose. There was a time, not long ago, when the workplace was a sanctuary of skill, collaboration, and shared ambition. Ideas flowed like rivers unblocked by ego; promotions were earned, not whispered into being. But somewhere along the road, as hierarchies stiffened and ambition turned sour, a silent rot began to creep in—the rot of politics.
Workplace politics, once a shadow on the periphery, now sprawls across boardrooms, cubicles, and coffee machines like an unwelcome guest refusing to leave. It masquerades as strategy, disguises itself as diplomacy, and wears a smile that hides a knife. Instead of merit and performance, the modern organization often rewards alliances, sycophancy, and the art of playing the game.
Take the case of Twitter (now X) under Elon Musk’s leadership—internal politics and sudden power shifts led to mass layoffs and chaotic decision-making. The departure of key engineers, the disbanding of moderation teams, and the exodus of advertisers weren't just the result of poor planning, but of a power struggle that ignored those with experience in favor of those with influence. Similarly, in 2018, Google employees staged a global walkout protesting against the company’s mishandling of sexual harassment claims—another stark reminder of how internal politics, when unchecked, corrupts both ethics and efficiency.
The result? Innovation suffers. Creativity dies a quiet death, not with a bang but a shrug. Employees no longer seek excellence—they seek cover. The ones with vision retreat, while those with connections rise. In such an ecosystem, mediocrity thrives.
But it wasn’t always this way.
There was a time—ask the veterans of the early Silicon Valley startups—when collaboration was a badge of honor. Engineers pulled all-nighters not for applause, but for impact. Designers and developers sat side by side, not divided by departments or divided hearts. What mattered was the product, the problem, the solution. Not whose name came first in the meeting, or whose coffee cup was closest to the boss.
The tragedy is that organizations often don’t realize the cost until it’s too late. Toxic politics bleeds talent. Bright minds grow dim in places where effort goes unseen. A McKinsey report once noted that companies with poor organizational health are 3 times more likely to perform below their peers. The cause? Politics, mistrust, and fractured culture.
What is needed is not just leadership, but courageous leadership—the kind that calls out whisper networks and promotes transparency. The kind that rewards contribution over cunning. A leader must be the gardener who prunes away toxicity so that ideas may bloom again.
In the end, an organization is not a machine; it is a living forest of minds. Water it with fairness. Protect it from the creeping vines of politics. Only then can true work—worthy work—rise from its roots.
Let the workplace return to what it was meant to be: a haven for builders, not battlegrounds for players.
Workplace politics, once a shadow on the periphery, now sprawls across boardrooms, cubicles, and coffee machines like an unwelcome guest refusing to leave. It masquerades as strategy, disguises itself as diplomacy, and wears a smile that hides a knife. Instead of merit and performance, the modern organization often rewards alliances, sycophancy, and the art of playing the game.
Take the case of Twitter (now X) under Elon Musk’s leadership—internal politics and sudden power shifts led to mass layoffs and chaotic decision-making. The departure of key engineers, the disbanding of moderation teams, and the exodus of advertisers weren't just the result of poor planning, but of a power struggle that ignored those with experience in favor of those with influence. Similarly, in 2018, Google employees staged a global walkout protesting against the company’s mishandling of sexual harassment claims—another stark reminder of how internal politics, when unchecked, corrupts both ethics and efficiency.
The result? Innovation suffers. Creativity dies a quiet death, not with a bang but a shrug. Employees no longer seek excellence—they seek cover. The ones with vision retreat, while those with connections rise. In such an ecosystem, mediocrity thrives.
But it wasn’t always this way.
There was a time—ask the veterans of the early Silicon Valley startups—when collaboration was a badge of honor. Engineers pulled all-nighters not for applause, but for impact. Designers and developers sat side by side, not divided by departments or divided hearts. What mattered was the product, the problem, the solution. Not whose name came first in the meeting, or whose coffee cup was closest to the boss.
The tragedy is that organizations often don’t realize the cost until it’s too late. Toxic politics bleeds talent. Bright minds grow dim in places where effort goes unseen. A McKinsey report once noted that companies with poor organizational health are 3 times more likely to perform below their peers. The cause? Politics, mistrust, and fractured culture.
What is needed is not just leadership, but courageous leadership—the kind that calls out whisper networks and promotes transparency. The kind that rewards contribution over cunning. A leader must be the gardener who prunes away toxicity so that ideas may bloom again.
In the end, an organization is not a machine; it is a living forest of minds. Water it with fairness. Protect it from the creeping vines of politics. Only then can true work—worthy work—rise from its roots.
Let the workplace return to what it was meant to be: a haven for builders, not battlegrounds for players.