The HR and the Managers are superfluous

Beyond Growth: Why Evaluating HR and Managerial Performance is a Moral and Strategic Necessity

In the contemporary corporate world, much of the focus revolves around growth, profitability, and efficiency. The conversations at leadership summits, board meetings, and strategic retreats often celebrate numbers—revenue targets, quarterly margins, and expansion indices. What is conveniently ignored, however, is the invisible erosion happening underneath this glossy surface. The decay of trust, empathy, and ethical sensibility. And at the heart of this corrosion often lie the very people entrusted with protecting the human fabric of an organization—HR departments and managerial personnel.

The Culture Crisis: When Leadership Turns into Damage Control

It is ironic that Human Resources—the very term that signals humanity—has come to represent the opposite in many organizations. Instead of facilitating human potential, many HR professionals become instruments of corporate detachment, acting not as bridges between management and workforce, but as filters, spies, and silencers. Similarly, managers, who should ideally mentor and guide, often metamorphose into petty autocrats, driven more by power-play than purpose.

This isn't a sweeping generalization. It is, in fact, a pattern—increasingly visible across industries and geographies.

Take the case of Uber (2017): Former engineer Susan Fowler’s blog post revealed systemic harassment and indifference by HR and management. Her repeated complaints about sexual harassment were ignored or trivialised. The HR department protected high-performing offenders, prioritising numbers over ethics. It led to a massive cultural reckoning, resignations, and a loss of public trust. This is not an exception. It is a reflection of a deeper illness.

The Dirty Job Syndrome: Performing the Violence of the Organization

Too often, HR and managerial staff act as enforcers of unpopular and morally ambiguous policies. Layoffs dressed in PowerPoint euphemisms like "rightsizing", "cost optimization", or "strategic restructuring" are carried out with robotic indifference, with no genuine regard for the emotional cost. Those who survive such culling operations are left bruised, traumatised, and hypervigilant.

This phenomenon is what we may call the “Dirty Job Syndrome”—where HR and managers perform the emotional violence of the organization, but do so while pretending neutrality or professionalism. The workplace warmth deteriorates, conversations become calculated, and employees begin to wear emotional armour. Collaboration gives way to cautious competition, and trust dies a slow death.

Artificial Backbiting, Induced Paranoia

What makes this toxicity worse is that it is often artificially manufactured. Performance reviews and competitive ranking systems (often HR-led) pit peers against one another, incentivising jealousy and betrayal over solidarity and collective learning. A notable example comes from the Microsoft “Stack Ranking” era, where employees were forced into a bell curve evaluation. This practice led to team sabotage, anxiety, and internal politicking—eventually compelling the company to abandon it after years of criticism.

When rewards and recognition are handed out selectively, often to those adept at self-promotion or sycophancy, it creates an atmosphere of quiet rebellion among the less visible yet consistently contributing members. They begin to ask: What is the point of effort if visibility matters more than impact?

The 80/20 Fallacy: A Dangerous Oversimplification

The glorified 80/20 Rule—claiming that 80% of results come from 20% of people—is used by many organizations to justify lopsided policies of reward and recognition. However, this logic is not just flawed; it is dangerously reductionist. It overlooks the interdependencies in real-world work environments, where outcomes are rarely the product of individual brilliance alone.

Imagine a restaurant where the chef is given 90% of the accolades and bonuses, while the servers, dishwashers, and kitchen prep staff are considered replaceable. Over time, morale drops. Turnover increases. And the chef, no matter how skilled, can no longer deliver excellence. The same applies to organizations—the so-called “top 20%” can only perform because the “unseen 80%” keeps the wheels turning.

More importantly, who determines the 20%? Often, it is managers and HR, based on vague criteria and subjective impressions, heavily influenced by biases and perceptions of loyalty rather than performance.

The Myth of “Fair” Competition

It is fashionable in corporate circles to talk about “fair competition.” Let’s break the illusion: Fair competition is an oxymoron. In environments where people do not begin from equal platforms—socially, economically, emotionally, or in terms of access to decision-makers—competition cannot be fair.

Awards, rankings, “employee of the month” badges—these create an ecosystem where the workplace mimics a gladiatorial arena. It breeds resentment, promotes artificial smiles, and perpetuates a zero-sum mindset. Employees no longer grow together; they climb over one another. 

Beyond Business: The Business of Business is More Than Business

As economist Peter Drucker once said, “Culture eats strategy for breakfast.” And yet, most organizations are obsessed with strategic growth while ignoring the cultural decay that such obsession breeds.

The old mantra “the business of business is business” no longer holds water. Today, the business of business is to evolve, to include, to care, and to correct. A truly learning organization must measure not just profits, but emotional health, retention of integrity, and cultivation of creativity.

If HR and managers are not being evaluated on moral courage, ethical integrity, emotional intelligence, and inclusivity, then the entire performance evaluation process is a farce.

Proposed Metrics for HR and Managerial Evaluation:

1. Trust Quotient – anonymous feedback from team members.
2. Ethical Decision Index – audit of past decisions and their social/emotional impact.
3. Inclusion and Empathy Rating – diversity of interactions and non-discriminatory behavior.
4. Supportiveness Score – how many team members grew or improved under their leadership.
5. Crisis Response Effectiveness – how well they protected people, not just policies.

HR and Managers, a tragedy of errors

It is one of the quietest tragedies of the corporate world—how **brilliant students from esteemed institutions**, the so-called blue-eyed boys and girls of society, brimming with dreams and purpose, slowly transform into **monsters with stony eyes**, their souls calcified by power, hierarchy, and ambition. Once idealists, they become **heinous hyenas**, feeding off the flesh and fatigue of the workforce, thriving in boardroom hunts and email ambushes. They forget that leadership is not about making others work while doing nothing—it is about working *with* others. In a truly organic organization, the flow of work would be *horizontal*, not vertical—workers would rise to become managers through experience, merit, and wisdom, not through degrees and detachment. *Self-policing* and *mutual respect* would replace surveillance and authoritarianism. 

Layoffs, an organizational failure

Layoffs, meanwhile, are not signs of corporate maturity but *institutional failure*. Every time an employee is shown the door, an organization should hang its head in shame, not pat its back for creating "re-employable" profiles. What pride can there be in displacing lives? And let us make no mistake—HR and managers do not do the “dirty job.” That title belongs, with dignity, to our sanitation workers, our scavengers, our sweepers—the ones who clean without cruelty, who leave behind cleanliness, not chaos. In contrast, many HR managers **spread dirt with policy** and **spray fear with emails**. Thus, the new vision of learning organizations must be **radical**: a model where HR and managerial positions are either **reinvented** or **dissolved**, where trust, self-direction, and shared ownership create a workplace of *fresh air*, not polluted hierarchies. Imagine such a place—*a Manager-Free, HR-Free zone*—not as anarchy, but as a sanctuary where people come to work, not to survive, but to **breathe, belong, and build**.

Conclusion: Toward a Culture of Accountability and Healing

In conclusion, HR and managers must no longer be allowed to operate in insulated bubbles, armed with flawed theories, toxic hierarchies, and power without accountability. A business that grows while its soul rots from within is destined to implode. Evaluating the performance of HR and managers is not merely an HR function—it is a cultural detox, a strategic intervention, and a philosophical necessity.

It’s time we asked: Are they here to facilitate growth—or to sabotage it from within?

Until we treat emotional erosion with the same seriousness as financial loss, no organization can claim to be future-ready.

The Case for a New Corporate Humanity

In the architecture of a truly learning organization, **HR and managerial roles as they exist today are not just redundant—they are counterproductive**. These positions have become synonymous not with empowerment or evolution, but with constant critique, exclusion, and fear. Their purpose seems fixated on **highlighting what is not going right**, *who* is not right, and *why* someone should be "corrected," disciplined, or removed—rather than focusing on **how to make every individual feel seen, valued, and emotionally energized**. HR and managers, more often than not, become **curators of failure** rather than catalysts of growth.

Let's call a human a human

Their inflated titles and inflated egos often lead them to assume the role of **demi-gods and goddesses**, issuing verdicts with a disturbing sense of moral superiority, untouched by the very labour they assess. But we must resist the urge to discard them as individuals. Instead, let us **re-humanize** these roles. Let HR and managers become *workers* again—humble participants in the shared journey of progress. Let them sweep floors, write code, handle customers, and learn the daily struggles of the people they once judged from glass cabins. **Let the process make them human again**—not gatekeepers of punishment, but **facilitators of empathy**.

Out-of-the-box thinking

The audacity to throw someone out of their livelihood, masked as "policy implementation," is no less destructive than ideological terror—it devastates families, dreams, and psyches. Managers and HR should not behave like corporate terrorists, instilling fear and silencing voices. They should instead be **healers**, **listeners**, and **doers**. Only then can we move toward workplaces that are truly inclusive, ethical, and emotionally sustainable.

It is time to **rebuild organizations not around hierarchy, but around humanity**—a structure where no one watches over others with suspicion, but where all stand shoulder to shoulder, building something meaningful with mutual care. That is the future of work. That is the soul of a learning organization.

Lessons from the Mahabharata [Lesson 2]

The Perils of Greed and Ego: A Story Collection from the Mahabharata

1. Duryodhana and the Dice Game: The Fall of a Prince

(Already given above, forming the central story)

Blinded by jealousy and greed, Duryodhana’s humiliation of Draupadi in the dice hall sowed the seeds of the Kurukshetra war. His ego refused any path of compromise, leading to the destruction of the Kuru dynasty.   

2. Karna’s Loyalty and the Trap of Ego

Karna, born to Kunti before her marriage and abandoned at birth, grew up unaware of his royal lineage. His heart carried a deep wound of rejection, and his ego yearned for recognition as a warrior equal to Arjuna. 

When Duryodhana made him king of Anga to humiliate the Pandavas, Karna became eternally loyal to the Kaurava prince. Yet this loyalty, fueled by ego and gratitude, chained him to Duryodhana’s doomed cause.

• Even when he learned the truth of his birth—that he was the eldest Pandava—Karna’s pride would not let him reconcile with his brothers.
• His ego demanded that he prove his superiority over Arjuna, and so he fought against his own bloodline in the great war.

Karna’s inability to set aside personal pride led to his tragic death at Arjuna’s hands, struck down while his chariot wheel was stuck in the mud. His story reminds us that ego can blind us to the higher call of dharma, dragging even noble hearts into ruin.

3. Shakuni’s Revenge and the Web of Greed

Shakuni, Duryodhana’s maternal uncle, was the mastermind behind the Kaurava schemes. His own ego and greed for revenge fueled the Kuru downfall.

• Shakuni harbored hatred for Bhishma and the Kuru line because of the suffering of his family in Gandhara, where his kin had been imprisoned.
• His plan to destroy the Kuru dynasty from within aligned perfectly with Duryodhana’s ambition.

Shakuni’s cunning and greed for vengeance were the sparks that ignited the dice game and the war.
Yet, in the end, he too perished in the battlefield, his dream of revenge fulfilled only through a sea of death that left his sister’s lineage extinct. 

The Lesson Woven Through All Three Stories

The Mahabharata paints an unflinching portrait of how greed and ego can entangle multiple lives:

• Duryodhana’s greed for power brought his own destruction.
• Karna’s ego and loyalty to the wrong cause sealed his tragic fate.
• Shakuni’s greed for revenge led to the annihilation of the very family he claimed to protect.

In the end, Kurukshetra was not only a battlefield of arrows but of human flaws—where unchecked pride and desire consumed entire generations.

4. Bhishma and Drona: Silent Witnesses to Ego’s Reign

In the royal halls of Hastinapura, two pillars of wisdom and valor stood helpless as Duryodhana’s greed and ego consumed the Kuru dynasty—Bhishma, the grandsire bound by his vow, and Drona, the legendary teacher of princes.

Bhishma, the guardian of the Kuru throne, saw the storm gathering long before the war. His heart ached at Duryodhana’s arrogance, and he warned him repeatedly:

“Greed and anger lead only to ruin, my child. Bend before dharma, and the kingdom will be yours in glory.”

But ego makes the ears deaf. Duryodhana laughed off his advice, and Bhishma, bound by his terrible oath of loyalty to the throne, could only watch as innocence was humiliated in the dice hall.
When the war came, Bhishma fought for a cause he did not believe in, silently carrying the weight of dharma’s betrayal. His deathbed of arrows became a symbol of the suffering that follows when the wise remain silent before greed.

Drona, too, fell into a trap spun by ego and loyalty. His pride as a teacher bound him to Hastinapura, even as he recognized the unrighteous path of Duryodhana. His ambition for his son Ashwatthama’s glory and attachment to power led him to the battlefield, where he fought against his own beloved students—the Pandavas.
His death, brought about by a trick born of Krishna’s strategy, became another silent testament to the ruin of ego-driven choices.

Unified Moral of the Collection

Across these four stories, the Mahabharata teaches that unchecked greed and ego spare no one:

• Duryodhana’s pride led him to reject peace and lose everything.
• Karna’s ego and loyalty chained him to the wrong side of history.
• Shakuni’s greed for revenge destroyed the very family he sought to avenge.
• Bhishma and Drona’s silence and attachments made them witnesses and victims of ego’s final dance.

The Kurukshetra War is thus more than a clash of armies; it is a mirror held up to the human heart, showing that when desire and pride rule, destruction follows like a shadow.

To be continued...

  

Lessons from the Mahabharata [Lesson 1]

The Mahabharata, an ocean of timeless wisdom, weaves life lessons through the fates of kings, warriors, and sages. Among its deepest teachings is the importance of dharma and truth—a principle the Pandavas clung to even in the face of betrayal and exile. Yudhishthira, the eldest Pandava, remains an enduring symbol of this, for he chose to accept thirteen years of exile after the infamous dice game rather than break his word, demonstrating that honor often demands sacrifice. In contrast, the story of Duryodhana reflects the consequences of greed and ego; his refusal to yield even five villages to the Pandavas sealed the doom of the Kauravas. The epic also teaches courage and the value of teamwork, as seen when Arjuna, with Krishna as his charioteer, regains his will to fight after the divine discourse of the Bhagavad Gita, learning that one must act without attachment to results. Moreover, tales such as that of Bhishma—lying on a bed of arrows, waiting for the right cosmic hour to depart—remind us of the need to accept change and let go of things beyond our control, for even the mightiest must bow to time. The Mahabharata thus remains not merely a chronicle of war but a mirror to human life, urging us to strive for righteousness, confront our weaknesses, and rise above the storms of desire and pride.

Life Lessons from the Mahabharata: A Timeless Compass for the Soul

The Mahabharata is not merely an epic of kings and warriors; it is a mirror to human life, reflecting our struggles with duty, desire, truth, and destiny. Across its countless verses and stories, it whispers lessons that remain as urgent today as they were thousands of years ago. Through the triumphs and tragedies of its characters, we are taught that dharma (righteousness), courage, humility, and self-awareness form the foundation of a life well-lived.

One of the most profound lessons of the Mahabharata lies in the importance of dharma and truth. Yudhishthira, the eldest Pandava, is a shining embodiment of this principle. Throughout his life, he chooses the path of righteousness, even when it demands great personal sacrifice. His moment of moral compromise during the war—when he utters the half-truth that leads to Drona’s death—illustrates the weight of even a single lie. His chariot, which had always floated above the ground due to his perfect truthfulness, finally touched the earth, symbolizing the spiritual burden of his choice. In this, the Mahabharata gently warns us: truth may be inconvenient, but dishonesty leaves an enduring scar.

The epic also explores the destructive power of greed and ego through the tragic figure of Duryodhana. Offered peace even after the Pandavas’ exile, he arrogantly refused to give them even “land enough to fit the point of a needle.” That single choice ignited a war that annihilated his dynasty. His story is a timeless reminder that unchecked pride blinds reason and turns opportunities for harmony into invitations for ruin.

Equally compelling is the lesson of courage and accepting one’s duty, embodied in the story of Arjuna on the battlefield of Kurukshetra. Confronted with the unbearable reality of fighting his own family and teachers, Arjuna faltered, his bow slipping from his hands. In that moment of despair, Krishna delivered the immortal counsel of the Bhagavad Gita, urging him to perform his dharma without attachment to the fruits of action. Reborn in spirit, Arjuna rose to fight—not out of anger, but from a place of clarity and purpose. Through his journey, we learn that true courage is born from inner alignment, not aggression.

The Mahabharata also teaches the inevitability of change and the wisdom of letting go. Bhishma, the grand patriarch who had spent his life shaping the destiny of the Kuru dynasty, met his end on a bed of arrows, waiting for the right cosmic hour to die. In his final moments, he released the illusion of control, surrendering to the flow of time. His story reminds us that even the mightiest must bow to the rhythm of life, and that peace comes in accepting what we cannot hold forever.

Lastly, the fate of Karna stands as a haunting reminder of the power of choices and loyalties. Born to royalty but raised as a charioteer’s son, Karna spent his life battling the stigma of rejection. His unwavering loyalty to Duryodhana, though noble in sentiment, bound him to the path of adharma. When his chariot wheel sank in the mud and his pleas for a pause went unanswered, his tragic end was sealed—not by fate alone, but by the accumulation of choices that led him there. His life whispers that our allegiances and actions shape our destiny, and misplaced loyalty can lead to inevitable downfall.

The Mahabharata, in its vastness, is more than a chronicle of a great war; it is a living guide for navigating the battlefield of life. It urges us to uphold truth even when it is hard, to temper ambition with humility, to accept change with grace, and to choose our paths with awareness. Its stories remind us that victory and defeat are transient, but the pursuit of dharma leaves a legacy that outlives time itself.

To be continued...