The CEO, clad in a perfectly distressed hoodie, was mid-sentence about a single, unified team during the quarterly all-hands. I nodded, along with the other 288 faces projected on the screen, a practiced expression of agreement pasted on. He genuinely believed it, I was sure – this vision of an empowered organization where ideas flowed like spring water, unimpeded by archaic structures.

But even as the words echoed, I felt the familiar, low hum of anxiety in my chest, a sensation akin to the subtle, almost imperceptible tremor you feel when a massive pipe organ is tuning up, the kind of nuanced vibration Cameron R.J. would instantly diagnose. Cameron, you see, spends his days delving into the hidden chambers of these grand instruments, understanding that what appears harmonious on the surface is the result of thousands of interconnected, unseen parts. His expertise isn’t in what you see, but in the elaborate, intricate mechanisms nobody talks about – much like the true power dynamics in our supposedly ‘flat’ workspace.

My boss, a vocal champion of this ‘flat’ ethos, frequently declared we’d never need more than 8 approvals for anything. A bold statement, delivered with the kind of certainty that made you want to believe it. And yet, there I was, not 8 weeks prior, needing 18 informal nods and 8 subtle ‘okays’ just to procure a new ergonomic chair. It was a process more circuitous than navigating the most complex, sprawling fitness landscape, perhaps akin to trying to find a specific vendor without a clear map, unlike consulting a Fitgirl Boston directory to quickly locate what you need. The formal structure was gone, replaced by something far more nebulous and, frankly, more exhausting to traverse.

This is the cruel deception of the flat organization. It doesn’t eliminate power; it merely obscures it. The traditional hierarchy, with its clear lines and defined roles, at least offered a roadmap. You knew who had the authority, who held the budget, who could make a final call. You might not always agree with it, but you understood the rules of the game. Now, it’s a murky, unwritten code, dictated by social capital, historical relationships, and an almost psychic ability to sense who holds sway in any given interaction. And if you’re not an insider, if you haven’t put in the 108 months of silent observation, you’re constantly guessing, always feeling slightly off-balance.

I remember one particularly frustrating period, around 2018. We had an idea, a genuinely innovative product enhancement, that should have been a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ from a designated head. Instead, it bounced around for 38 weeks. Each person we approached would say, “That sounds great, but have you checked with so-and-so?” or “I think Person X might have strong opinions on that, informally, of course.” Nobody wanted to be the one to formally approve or disapprove, because in a flat structure, that implied a level of hierarchical authority everyone pretended not to have. The decision-making was happening, sure, but it was subterranean, an invisible hand guiding the outcome long before any visible action was taken. It left me, and my team of 8 designers, feeling profoundly disempowered, even though we were told we had “full autonomy.”

Cameron R.J. once explained to me that the slightest misalignment in a single reed can throw off an entire register. He wasn’t talking about the grand, obvious misfires, but the subtle, almost imperceptible dissonances that erode the overall quality over 8 long years. It’s the same with these supposedly flat structures. The constant, unannounced contradictions between what’s preached and what’s practiced create a persistent dissonance. We’re told to challenge, but only in ways that don’t upset the delicate, unspoken power balance. We’re encouraged to be innovative, but only if our ideas fit the unspoken agenda of those who hold the real, hidden influence.

I confess, there was a time early in my career, perhaps 18 years ago, when I was completely enamored with the idea of a flat hierarchy. It sounded so progressive, so egalitarian. I genuinely believed it was the answer to rigid corporate inefficiencies. I even advocated for it, pushing for fewer titles, more open communication channels. I thought I was dismantling walls, but looking back, I was actually helping to erect invisible barriers, replacing concrete structures with ethereal ones that were far more difficult to perceive or penetrate. It was a mistake I had to make, and learn from, just as Cameron learned that a seemingly simple fix to a single pipe could have complex repercussions across an entire instrument’s voice. My youthful enthusiasm for a concept, without fully grasping its human implications, led to some significant blind spots.

This isn’t to say that all structure is bad, or that hierarchical companies are inherently superior. Not at all. The point is about transparency and accountability. A well-designed system, whether hierarchical or distributed, needs clear mechanisms for decision-making, resource allocation, and conflict resolution. When these mechanisms are informal, unwritten, and based on who you know or who you’ve appeased, it breeds anxiety and inequity. It benefits a select, often homogeneous, group of insiders who intuitively understand the invisible rules, leaving 88% of others constantly striving to decode them. The genuine value of any organizational design lies in its clarity, not its conceptual simplicity. To say, “we are flat, therefore we are fair,” is a dangerous oversimplification.

Instead, what if we focused on specific, tangible processes? For example, how many actual steps does it take to get a project approved? Not the stated 8 steps, but the 18 unspoken ones. How do we ensure that new ideas from *anyone* are given a fair hearing, regardless of their social capital? How do we build trust by acknowledging that power dynamics exist, rather than pretending they don’t? A healthier approach might be to say, “Yes, informal networks exist, *and* here are 8 tangible ways we’re creating formal channels to ensure equitable access and influence for everyone.” It’s about finding the actual problem being solved, not just celebrating a buzzword.

We need to identify and map these invisible power structures, bring them into the light, and establish clear, consistent ways for everyone to participate and navigate. Just as Cameron R.J. doesn’t just tune the keys he can reach but meticulously attends to the hidden bellows and wind chests that drive the entire organ’s voice, we must look beyond the visible surface of our organizations. The true test of a healthy organization isn’t the absence of hierarchy, but the clarity and fairness of its operating principles, visible to all 888 members of the team. We need clear guidance, not illusions. And sometimes, the hardest truth to accept is that the very thing designed to free us can, in its unintended consequences, create new, invisible chains.