David Attenborough Observes the Modern Workplace
At first glance the open-plan office appears calm.
But tensions beneath the surface are rarely far away.
Near the coffee machine several younger employees exchange information of questionable accuracy. An older male stands close to the thermostat, adjusting it by half a degree at a time. No one comments directly. This is not considered safe behaviour.
This week saw the celebration of David Attenborough’s 100th birthday. For decades he has calmly observed the behaviour of animals in the wild: territorial disputes, dominance rituals, grooming, and complex social hierarchies.
Watching modern organisations, much of it would feel strangely familiar.
Humans like to think of themselves as highly evolved. Yet if animals behaved the way people behave in workplaces, we would describe the species as deeply unstable.
Take the meerkat.
In the wild, meerkats are cooperative creatures. They take turns keeping watch, share information, and respond quickly to danger. No strategy away days required.
Now imagine, instead, if they behaved like humans.
Here the senior male emerges from the burrow slightly late. This is a dominance display. He signals authority by not acknowledging those who arrived on time.
He sighs, then asks for an update on a project he has shown no prior interest in whatsoever.
A younger meerkat cautiously offers an idea.
The senior male nods.
“I’m not sure the group is ready for that conversation.”
This is not technically aggression. Among humans it is known as leadership.
The younger meerkat smiles politely and immediately resolves never to speak again unless absolutely necessary.
Elsewhere, a disagreement is unfolding near the office window.
One faction insists fresh air is essential for wellbeing and cognitive performance. Another claims even the slightest breeze causes immediate physical distress.
At first glance, the dispute appears to concern ventilation.
In reality, it is about territory, control, and unresolved resentment dating back to an incident involving someone eating another person’s yoghurt.
The HR manager approaches cautiously.
Years of experience have taught her never to take sides in disputes involving windows, fridge shelves or emails copied to “All Staff.”
She suggests compromise.
Both sides immediately reject it for entirely different reasons.
This is considered a successful intervention.
In the animal kingdom, dominance displays are usually direct. A gorilla beats its chest. A stag lowers its antlers. Conflict is brief, visible and resolved.
Humans prefer a more refined approach.
Observe the senior manager entering a meeting slightly late. He does not raise his voice. Instead, he asks why “we are still not further forward on this.”
No one answers.
A junior colleague presents a proposal. It is received with thoughtful silence.
Then:
“I’m not sure the organisation is ready for that conversation.”
This is not aggression. It is governance.
The colleague smiles, makes a mental note never to volunteer again, and returns to contributing only when explicitly requested in writing.
Humans are perhaps the only species capable of expressing hostility entirely through tone of email.
“Just circling back on this.”
Few sentences in nature carry such weight.
Meanwhile, in another part of the organisation, a different ritual is underway.
The Diversity and Inclusion event has gathered the tribes. Senior figures speak warmly about difference before quietly promoting individuals who look reassuringly familiar.
Difference is welcomed, provided it does not disturb existing patterns.
The organisation celebrates individuality while gently discouraging anything genuinely individual.
Unlike humans, ecosystems tend to prefer diversity for functional reasons. Monocultures rarely survive long.
Humans prefer diversity that behaves consistently.
Among meerkats, information flows quickly and directly. In human organisations it is filtered, reinterpreted, forwarded, softened, and occasionally weaponised.
“I don’t like gossip,” says one employee quietly, “but people are saying…”
This is the human equivalent of a warning call.
Within hours, the information has travelled across departments, losing accuracy but gaining confidence at every stage.
No one knows the source. Everyone knows the implication.
Humans call this communication.
The senior male continues to speak warmly about collaboration while carefully withholding information from neighbouring tribes.
Several partnership meetings are scheduled to discuss alignment. No meaningful exchange takes place.
This is considered progress.
HR monitors the situation closely.
It is widely understood within HR that most organisational problems present as policy issues but behave like emotional weather systems.
The window dispute remains unresolved. The yoghurt incident is occasionally referenced. The thermostat continues its quiet territorial role.
And so the humans return to their desks.
At first glance the colony appears stable.
For now, an uneasy peace holds across the open-plan savannah.
One suspects the meerkats would have resolved the window issue by now.
blairmcpherson.co.uk
