Apple TV’s show Severance hit the streaming site earlier this year for its second season and has garnered a new round of fans. Its sci-fi recounting of four “severed” employees working for a massive biotech company, Lumon, is both haunting and quirky, and thoroughly perfect for anyone working in a massive complex organization. Each day, upon entering an elevator, employees carry no memories of their outside selves and vice versa. It is the perfect example of work-life separation.
Without giving away any plot spoilers, several office workers enter their workplace each day with no knowledge or memory of what happens outside their office doors. The ultimate expression of “work-life”: the minute they get in the elevator each day, their memory switches back to their “Outie,” and they resume their lives with a complete lack of awareness of what occurs at work. Unsurprisingly, the Lumon “Innies” begin to question the fairness of the arrangement, deprived of the same freedoms and pleasures of their external counterparts.
When I first started watching the first season of Severance, I was coming off an entire semester of deep-dive study in organizational theory and culture for my PhD. The show is full of darkly satirical “culture building,” from the rewards of melon parties and group activities to the nearly worshipful recognition of the founder, Karl Eagen, and the faceless, nameless, and nearly voiceless “Board” that instructs from afar—it was almost too on the nose and almost too relatable.
In the early episodes, it is clear that each character is motivated and satisfied by a different aspect of this manufactured culture. For one character, Dillion, it’s the “perks” or performance rewards, illustrated by his collection of finger traps, that motivate him to continue to perform the task of macrodata refinement, sifting meaningless numbers on a computer. Burt, a more senior character, gravitates toward the organization’s mythology, the bible-like handbook, and the allegorical paintings that decorate the otherwise featureless office environment. Mark, the show’s primary character, however, is most connected to the people he has recently been tasked with managing.
The introduction of Helly R. upends the balance of the once-productive macrodata refinement office. In classic team theory form, the group forms and attempts to norm. By the end of the season, they are indeed performing, but not in the ways their Lumon managers will appreciate. I will avoid any spoilers.
TV shows like Severance don’t appear out of thin air; they have an intrinsic connection to the experiences of our modern world. The desperate search for meaning and understanding that underscores so much of the show is palpable across our organizations right now. In a recent report, Gallup referred to this as The Great Detachment: “Employees across America are feeling increasingly detached from their jobs.” Overall satisfaction is at its lowest since the COVID-19 pandemic, with only 18% of employees reporting they are extremely satisfied with their jobs, compared to 26% in 2019.
Gallup points to organizational change, remote and hybrid work, customer expectations, and performance management practices as possible contributors to this decline. In higher education, the industry in which I work, some of these factors resonate. The pressures our industry has faced, particularly over the past year, have heightened tension on campuses across the U.S. With financial resources in ever shorter supply and a constant stream of negative sentiment, coupled with an intense pressure to respond to an endless wave of AI technologies, the pace of change often feels untenable.
Gallup suggests that connecting individual contributions to the institution’s mission and purpose can support stronger satisfaction. And in higher ed, we see a stronger connection to mission and purpose. Yet, this, too, has its limits.
In higher education, we call this mission gaslighting, whereby the organization’s mission and purpose are weaponized to normalize toxic practices and behavior such as poor pay, lack of professional development and growth opportunities, and dismissal of the need for positive employee engagement or culture building. The use of existing policies, particularly those grounded in old paradigms of what it means to be a university, serves as the basis for navigating a reality unimagined by those who drafted them.
In a way, we become detached because there is nothing to become attached to.
Severance presents a manufactured form of culture-building, a hollow means to an end that is apparent to any viewer who has worked in a “we’re all family here” environment. For a while, its employees find meaning and motivation in the construction that is meant to keep them satisfied in otherwise pointless roles.
But the façade begins to crack when they slowly realize the very things that make them human, such as love, friendship, honesty, and desire, are antithetical to Lumon’s true purpose for them. Pizza parties and t-shirts do not create a sense of community and connection on their own, particularly when they lack intentionality. In fact, they can only deepen feelings of alienation and dissatisfaction when larger systemic issues remain unaddressed.
A lack of connection to mission isn’t just about communicating what the mission is; it’s about inviting everyone to contribute to that mission in a personal and meaningful way. It’s also about being willing to allow that mission to become a shared, iterative, and living process, not a static, one-sided, and weaponized tool.