I’ve sat in enough boardrooms to know this: what derails a decision is rarely the lack of intelligence or information. It’s the invisible current under the surface — the collective flinch when a hard truth swims into view, the polite sidestep around the elephant in the room, the strange way everyone suddenly becomes fascinated with minor agenda items when the big one looms.
From my Tavistock training and years of observing leaders, I’ve learned that these aren’t random quirks. They’re defense mechanisms — the mind’s ancient way of protecting us from anxiety. Only here, it’s not just one person’s mind at work; it’s the group’s psyche. A board becomes like a living organism with reflexes of its own.
Sometimes it’s like watching an entire ship’s crew turn their eyes away from the iceberg, even as the tip glints right there on the horizon.
Denial and Avoidance — The Illusion of Safety in Busyness
I’ve seen boards master the art of the packed agenda. Every meeting, every minute full — operational updates, financial minutiae, procedural reports — until the “strategic risks” section is crammed into the last ten minutes.
It’s not poor planning; it’s a collective shield. If we never open the box, we never have to face what’s inside. Denial feels like breathing clean air after being underwater — instant relief — but it also means we never learn if we can swim through the waves.
Enron’s board is an infamous example: warning signs of financial misconduct were everywhere, yet directors refused to truly see them. In less dramatic cases, avoidance comes dressed as “efficiency”: brisk meetings, swift approvals, no uncomfortable detours. Short-term calm, long-term blind spots.
Projection and Scapegoating — The Convenient Villain
Under pressure, boards love a villain. I’ve watched otherwise level-headed directors unite in fiery speeches about “the regulators,” “market conditions,” or “that one troublesome department.”
It’s like finding a leak on the ship and deciding to yell at the weather instead of patching the hole. Projection bonds the group in the moment — nothing brings people together faster than a shared enemy — but it distracts from the hard truth: sometimes the storm is inside.
I’ve seen this dynamic turn whole meetings into “fight or flight” mode. In fight, the energy goes into dismantling an opponent (inside or outside the company). In flight, it’s postponing meetings, avoiding reports, and keeping discussion safely away from the threat. Either way, attention shifts outward, away from the uncomfortable self-examination.
Splitting and Polarisation — Black-and-White Thinking in a Grey World
If you’ve ever watched a board split into “visionaries” and “guardians of tradition,” you know how quickly nuance evaporates. Complex strategy becomes a duel, the boardroom table itself turning into a chessboard — black squares and white squares, no grey in between.
This is splitting: simplifying reality into “good” and “bad” camps to ease anxiety. It’s tempting because it gives clarity — but it’s clarity without complexity, and decisions made on that sugar high rarely last.
I’ve seen founder-CEOs idealised by some and demonised by others, with the group unable to integrate perspectives. The result: stalemates, turf wars, and decisions that ignore the messy middle where most solutions live.
Dependency — Waiting for the Hero
There’s a subtle sigh of relief that runs through a board when everyone decides: the CEO will sort it out. I’ve seen directors lean so heavily on a “hero” leader that they shrink back from real engagement.
It’s tempting — like believing the pilot alone keeps the plane in the air — but leadership is a shared cockpit. Over-dependence leaves boards passive, waiting for rescue, and then resentful when the miracle doesn’t come.
I’ve watched this cycle play out: hiring a superstar CEO with sky-high expectations, then swinging to disappointment when they fail to deliver omnipotent solutions, only to search for the next saviour. It’s the group’s way of dodging the anxiety that comes with shared responsibility.
Rationalisation — Hiding in the Data
Some defenses wear a suit and tie. They show up as more analysis, more committees, more reports “just to be sure.” I once worked with a team that spent six months preparing to prepare a plan — layers of process wrapped so tightly around the issue that no one could actually touch it.
It’s like wrapping a fragile vase in so much bubble wrap you forget what’s inside. Order and structure have their place, but they can become walls that keep out the very change we need.
NASA’s Challenger disaster is a textbook example: engineering concerns were drowned under a “can-do” culture and a rigid chain of command. No one wanted to break the pattern, even with evidence of risk staring them in the face.
Why These Hidden Patterns Matter
For me, understanding these patterns has never been about theory for theory’s sake. I’ve watched them play out in real time — and I’ve seen the cost when they go unchallenged.
Unconscious defenses don’t just make meetings awkward; they can steer entire companies off course. They blur reality, delay critical choices, and trap teams in loops they’ve run before. A board locked in dependency might postpone succession planning, trusting the current leader will “figure something out,” only to panic when a crisis hits. A team hooked on scapegoating might spend years blaming outsiders while its own weak spots quietly deepen.
History is littered with examples. Blockbuster’s board clung to the comfort of its rental model and dismissed new ideas, missing the obvious tide of digital streaming. Marks & Spencer in the ’90s soared on big profits — until a Tavistock case study showed how that success fed a kind of collective narcissism, dulling their edge until the stumble came.
When a board’s group psyche turns defensive, the organization’s health is already in the danger zone. But there’s another side to this. When leaders are willing to look at their own dynamics through a psychoanalytic lens, something shifts. I’ve seen boards course-correct simply by asking, “Are we in fight-or-flight mode about this?” — and then making space for the honest answer.
Sometimes the breakthrough comes from an outsider — a facilitator who can name the “here-and-now” feelings in the room: the tension, the fear, the excitement that might be quietly steering the conversation away from what matters. That moment of recognition is often enough to break the spell.
Tavistock work teaches us that if you can sit with the fear long enough to see it clearly, you can lead from clarity instead of from reflex. And once board members become aware of both their own and the group’s inner weather, decisions stop being something that just happens — they become something you can steer with intent.
What Helps
Shifting boardroom culture isn’t about adding another strategy document; it’s about working with the human dynamics — the weather patterns in the room. These approaches consistently make a difference:
1. Name the Weather
The most transformative moments often start with a simple observation. When the conversation suddenly swerves away from a thorny topic, asking, “What are we avoiding here?” can break the spell. The Tavistock approach calls this “working in the here-and-now”: noticing the tension, fear, or relief in the moment and naming it.
2. Create a Safe Harbour for Difficult Dialogue
Great leaders model vulnerability by reflecting on their own reactions and inviting others to do the same. A chair might say, “It seems we always run out of time for strategic issues — what might we be avoiding?” Such conversations can feel uncomfortable at first, but they are where trust grows. Sometimes it means bringing in an external facilitator or group coach trained in systems-psychodynamic methods to help the board see itself in real time.
3. Invite the Storm
If dissent isn’t welcomed, it will leak in through cracks — often at the worst possible moment. Many unconscious defenses thrive in homogenous, insular groups. Diverse perspectives — in background, expertise, and thinking style — create healthy friction and uncover blind spots. An independent director willing to play devil’s advocate can prevent the “mutual admiration society” trap and surface the hard questions early. When optimism dominates, it helps to ask, “What could go wrong here? What are we not seeing?”
4. Keep the Mirror Handy
It’s easy to lean too heavily on a “hero” leader or to hide inside layers of process. The harder part is asking, “What’s my role in this dynamic?” Traditional board training covers regulation and strategy, but emotional competence is equally vital. Coaching, role-plays, and case studies of board failures can help leaders recognise when a heated debate is really about underlying fears — or when past experiences are steering present reactions.
5. Integrate Psychology into Governance
Some boards go beyond the usual checklists in their reviews, probing into trust levels and team dynamics. Tavistock-trained consultants may be invited to observe meetings and point out patterns: the topics that always get deflected, the moments when decision-making bogs down in “defensive routines.” Treating the board not just as a rational body but as a human group with emotions and unconscious patterns opens new possibilities for performance.
Boardrooms are full of brilliant minds, but brilliance alone can’t pierce the fog of anxiety. That takes awareness — the kind that sees the invisible currents, catches the evasions, and remembers that safety bought at the price of truth is never really safe.
In the end, leadership isn’t about avoiding the storm. It’s about learning to sail through it together.