People Don't Resist Change. They Remember.
I was introducing plans for yet another reorganisation to my team.
The rationale was familiar. New challenges. Greater efficiency. Better outcomes. A structure fit for the future.
Before I could continue, one member of staff interrupted.
"I'm not against the change. I'm still angry about the last one."
The room fell silent.
Everyone knew exactly what he meant.
His comment wasn't really about the proposed reorganisation. It was about all the previous ones. The changes, the promises, the disruptions and the disappointments.
Organisations often assume resistance is about the future.
Middle managers know it is usually about the past.
Organisations have memories stored in reports, minutes and policy documents.
People store theirs somewhere else.
They remember restructurings, abandoned initiatives, broken promises and careers that stalled unexpectedly.
Organisations often have short memories.
Middle managers often have long ones.
That is one reason why resentment is such a common but rarely discussed emotion in organisational life.
Middle managers are particularly vulnerable. They tend to stay longer than senior leaders. They live through multiple organisational eras. Different chief executives. Different priorities. Different restructurings. Different promises.
They remember initiatives that were once described as essential but quietly disappeared a few years later. They remember who was promoted, who was redeployed and who paid the price when things went wrong.
The organisation moves on.
Middle managers often cannot.
Resentment rarely starts with one dramatic event. More often it accumulates over time. Being passed over for promotion. Taking on extra responsibilities without recognition. Watching the same people receive the best opportunities. Being blamed for decisions made elsewhere.
Each event leaves a residue.
One restructuring I was involved in reduced the number of middle management posts. The remaining roles carried broader responsibilities and a higher grade. Everyone had to apply for the new positions.
From the board's perspective this was fair and transparent.
From the managers' perspective it felt like a vote of no confidence.
Many were successful. Many got the new jobs.
But they did not forget being required to compete for positions they believed they already held.
The organisation saw a completed process.
The managers experienced a lasting emotional event.
In another restructuring, following a critical inspection report, the board concluded the organisation needed "fresh blood". Too many management posts had been filled internally. New roles were created and advertised externally.
The message was never stated directly, but many middle managers heard it anyway.
The problem is you.
Ironically, many of those same managers secured the new posts.
The restructuring achieved its objective.
The resentment remained.
The organisation changed the structure.
It did not change the memory.
At the time, I was a senior manager involved in redeployment decisions. The board publicly committed itself to avoiding compulsory redundancies. Staff would be redeployed and salaries protected for twelve months.
It felt humane. It felt fair.
One manager, Dave, had already been redeployed from an operational role into training following an earlier reorganisation. Eighteen months later he was redeployed again when the training function was outsourced.
Like many middle managers, Dave was not trapped by the organisation so much as anchored by real life. A mortgage, school-age children and a family's roots in the area made the theoretical alternatives much less attractive than they appeared on paper.
Looking back, I am less certain we were helping as much as we thought.
We solved the procedural problem.
We avoided the emotional reality.
Some people had effectively been told there was no longer a future for them in their current role. Yet instead of discussing an exit package, we found them another position.
They remained employed but often felt rejected.
The organisation assumed the issue was resolved because they stayed.
The individuals drew a different conclusion.
They believed the organisation had shown them exactly what it thought of them.
Organisations often interpret staying as acceptance.
It isn't.
Many sat in jobs they did not want, waiting for retirement or an opportunity to leave.
Not angry enough to resign.
Not committed enough to fully re-engage.
Resentment has a long shelf life.
It also spreads.
Stories are told and retold. New employees learn old grievances. Middle managers become carriers of organisational memory. Senior leaders move on. The stories remain.
The emotional weather of the workplace changes.
People become more sceptical. Less trusting. Less willing to give management the benefit of the doubt.
The conventional wisdom is that people resist change because they dislike change.
That has not been my experience.
More often they resist because they remember previous changes and how those changes were handled.
The issue is not change itself.
It is memory.
Organisations spend enormous effort managing change.
Much less effort understanding what people remember from the last one.
Before announcing the next transformation, restructuring or cultural reset, leaders might ask a different question.
What memories are we walking into?
The lesson is not that organisations should avoid difficult decisions.
Nor is it that they should be tougher.
The lesson is that unresolved resentment has a cost.
Sometimes the most compassionate thing an organisation can offer is not protection from difficult truths but honesty.
Honesty.
Blair McPherson blairmcpherson.co.uk
