I’m not a big fan of institutions.
An institution believes in organizing people around a structure that kills the incentive to think, to innovate. It creates a routine in the way people work and think and process information. It makes them believe that it is the only way they can exist, bounded and shackled. Thus inhibiting free thoughts, and free will. Without real dreams, without real ambitions.
Institution put you in a comfort zone from where you see your dreams floating away.
In an institution a person is made to tiptoe walking across a maze of ‘you can’t do this – you can’t do that. He has to rote learn the only way of doing things, procedure that he must follow, the rules that he need to adhere to. It doesn’t matter how he works, when he works. He should abide by the tightrope of rules, work as everyone else do. Because he is not he. He is just like everyone else. He is dispensable. A single one among the army of thousands of task-repeating robots.
This is the first order of any institution. Institution kills identity.To rip any person off his real identity. To make him a commodity. A line item. An article in the list. That can be replaced and remolded as per institution’s needs and requirements. To make him think like all other do do. To make him do things like every other person does.
That’s why he is given an employee number that he must carry all the time. A uniform that he must wear. A code of conduct he must follow. That is why he is expected to do things like every other guy in your office.
I know men doing the same things for each day of their working lives.
Institution kills identity.
Waking up at the same hour. Donning the same kind of suit. Following the same path. Eating the same food. Doing the same things, again and again, year after year, like a wound spring in a clockwork, repeating , imitating, duplicating, without stopping, without resting, wearing himself out, giving up on his dreams, sacrificing his life, sacrificing his time with his family, forgetting how to see life as it unfolds before him, to relish the first drop of rain on tongue, to smell the fragrance of wetted earth, to feel the warmth of the winter sun, to feel the summer wind caressing face and body.
He sacrifices all this and more, until he is left with nothing else but this job to hold onto, because that is what is left with him now. That is his sole identity. That is what his knows doing. And then on one fine day when institution will find it convenient, they will take this off from him. Rips him off this alter ego, this identity, to which he has clung on to all these years like his baby.
Because he is not required anymore, that he is a cost now, that they need someone with a new perspective.
The institution killed identity, his creativity, on the he very first day it gave him an ID card and made him one among the many. He did whatever he wanted him to do, and in process he dug his own grave, he gave up what he was, to become a dispensable commodity ready to be thrown at the drop of a hat.