Revenge in organisations

We live in a world where revenge is increasingly normalised - in politics, in media and in public discourse. Professor Mark Stein’s lecture on leadership, identity and revenge, delivered in memory of Eric Miller, was haunting and illuminating. Drawing on mythology, psychoanalytic theory and organisational life, he offered a nuanced exploration of revenge as something more than retaliation. Revenge, Stein suggested, is triggered by an experience of offence or injury. But what counts as an offence is highly subjective. It may be a serious betrayal or harm. Or it might be something more subtle - a humiliation, a perceived slight, or being overlooked. Either way, the individual feels wounded. And if the wound festers, if it is not named, understood or metabolised, it may erupt into a desire for revenge.

A psychoanalytic frame

Psychoanalysis, Stein argued, offers powerful tools for understanding this state of mind. Freud’s concept of Thanatos - the death drive - is foundational. Alongside the drive for life, creativity and connection (Eros), Freud posited an equally strong, often unconscious, pull towards destruction. When someone feels deeply hurt, especially in a context where they cannot express or process the hurt, Thanatos can surge. It becomes a force not only to destroy the other, but at times the self - or the system as a whole.

The theory deepens with the notion of splitting and projective identification, as developed by Melanie Klein. Stein used these ideas to show how revenge is not simply aimed at an external other but often targets parts of ourselves that we have disowned and projected outwards. For instance, if I cannot bear my own capacity for envy or vulnerability, I may locate these qualities in another person or group - and then seek to attack them.

This projection is more than fantasy; it can govern real-world relationships. It can underpin interpersonal conflict, scapegoating, and the creation of in-groups and out-groups within organisations. And because the “offending” quality is not truly external, no act of revenge ever quite satisfies. This leads to the endless cycle Seneca (a Stoic philosopher of Ancient Rome) described - revenge begetting revenge, in perpetuity.

Mania and the myth of restoration

Another key aspect Stein explored was mania - the fantasy that revenge will restore something lost. In the Greek tragedies, revenge is often fuelled by the belief that honour, dignity or love can be retrieved by punishing the wrongdoer. In organisational life, this can take subtler forms: the idea that removing a problematic colleague will restore harmony; or that avenging a past slight will redeem one’s damaged standing.

But these are illusions. As Stein pointed out, revenge rarely restores. Instead, it reopens wounds, damages trust and unleashes further acts of aggression. The original offence may become obscured, as each act of revenge creates new injuries. In the case of the Gucci family - which Stein used as an illuminating case study - a seemingly small conflict over business decisions escalated over decades, eventually ending in betrayal, imprisonment, and murder.

Leadership and the enactment of revenge

Stein made a compelling case for why leaders are often both the carriers and the enactors of revenge in organisations. Leaders have power - the symbolic and practical means to act on their feelings or those of their followers. But they are also targets. Projected onto them are the hopes, disappointments and grievances of others. When these projections go unexamined, the leader may find themselves caught in dynamics they do not fully understand - pressured to act on behalf of group fantasies, or punishing dissent under the guise of preserving order.

This dynamic is rarely acknowledged. Organisational cultures are often steeped in ideals of professionalism, rationality and progress. But beneath the surface, revenge can shape decisions: who gets promoted, who is excluded, how failure is explained, and how challenges to authority are dealt with.

My own experience

Stein’s framing helped me make sense of experiences I’ve had but struggled to articulate. Working in a think tank that purported to value inquiry and reflection, I found that critique - particularly of management systems that prized control and predictability - was unwelcome. When I questioned the dominant approach, my words were dismissed not on their merits but as a “diatribe”. I came to see that the content of my critique was less important than what it represented: a threat to a carefully held identity, a source of anxiety and perhaps shame.

Retrospectively, it seems that the responses I received may not have been about disagreement so much as the system defending itself against perceived attack. The result wasn’t a single act of revenge, but a series of subtle retaliations: marginalisation, withdrawal of support, increased scrutiny. I was not expelled outright - but I was no longer trusted.

Stein’s lecture helped me see that such dynamics are not unique to any one workplace. They are, sadly, quite common - particularly in systems that lack the capacity to hold conflict, or where status and identity are tightly guarded. Revenge can become institutionalised. It may be rationalised as performance management or framed as a response to “uncollegial” behaviour. But its emotional roots often go deeper.

What helps?

Stein did not offer easy answers. Revenge, once set in motion, is hard to stop. Forgiveness is rarely on the table - especially in systems governed by status, fear, and unacknowledged emotion. But he did gesture towards the importance of containment and negative capability - the capacity to sit with hurt, shame or anger without acting it out.

He also reminded us of the role that consultants and facilitators can play. If we are aware of our own capacity for revenge, our own projections, our own wounds, we are better able to recognise these in others. We may be able to name the dynamic before it becomes acted out. At the very least, we can avoid getting caught up in it ourselves.

Importantly, revenge thrives in secrecy. What helps, sometimes, is simply bringing it into the open - not as accusation, but as inquiry. What is going on here? What’s being defended? Whose identity feels under threat? In this sense, the work is not just psychological, but political. It is about naming power, recognising complexity, and holding difference without collapse.

Conclusion

Revenge in organisations is part of the emotional economy we all inhabit. As Stein showed, it has deep roots, in the psyche, in culture, in the social fabric. And its effects can be corrosive. Understanding it offers a kind of freedom. We may still feel the urge to retaliate. But we can choose, sometimes, not to. We can work to interrupt the cycle, however imperfectly.