It began, as these things often do, with a subtle disturbance in the ecosystem—something almost imperceptible. A sudden new form on the shared drive in our organisations template folder. A minor procedural update, announced with the solemn gravity usually reserved for constitutional reform. A checklist… for submitting other checklists. A new case plan template that includes private information about the client… that later has to removed again before sharing. A simplified financial reimbursement form… that has to go up to director level twice before it’s approved… exchanging hands over 9 times.
At first, I dismissed these signs as anomalies, isolated behaviours within the professional habitat in which I live and work. But over time, the patterns repeated. Multiplied.
One might say, I did what any curious observer might do when confronted by an unfamiliar species. I watched. I listened. I embedded myself in their world. Days turned into week, weeks into months, months turned into years…
Like Jane Goodall living among the chimpanzees, I moved quietly through shared workspaces, committee meetings, and mandatory training seminars. I became part of their environment— submitting my timesheets, and nodding thoughtfully during whole-office ‘Peer Reviews’, watching from afar the new “Forms Governance Advisory Panel” whose sole purpose seemed to be to make a task more difficult to complete. At first I offered little resistance, I played along. As I developed trust, I pointed out flaws, experimentally, testing the limits of their insight. And in doing so, I learned.
The capacity to miss achieving outcomes for the appearance of achieving proper process was not mere oversight—it was structural, reinforced, and rewarded. It was something deeper—less like error, more like ritual. Predictable. Replicable. Not random, but systemic. It wasn’t just a behaviour. It was a cluster of traits. That’s when I realised: I wasn’t observing isolated behaviours. I was documenting a syndrome.
A Field Diagnosis
What I was observing was not the occasional misjudgment or the natural clutter of a busy organisation. No—it was something more persistent. More elegant even, in its internal logic. I came to see that entire systems had evolved, not to achieve results, but to appear constantly ready to deliver them.
These systems were inhabited by well-meaning individuals who moved with great care through intricate procedural rituals—forms passed reverently from desk to desk, approvals sought in triplicate, each step faithfully recorded in a document no one would ever read. It was, in its way, a remarkable feat of adaptation. A kind of ecological equilibrium—held together by policy, templates, and calendar invites.
It was only after years of immersion that the pattern revealed itself clearly enough to name. I call it Bureaucracy Blindness Syndrome—or BBS. A cognitive condition in which the need for process is no longer weighed against purpose. Instead, process becomes its own quiet goal – instinctually. The true belief that developing the correct procedure is the desired result.
Those affected often believe they are protecting systemic integrity. But their behaviours follow a consistent rhythm: the generation of new forms and policy in response to non-existent problems, the layering of documentation over human judgment, and the loud resistance to any metric that might measure actual change.
In the field, I observed critical behavioural, cognitive and emotional differences in patients I believe to be affected by BBS.
Table 1
Contrasting Responses: BBS-Affected vs Outcome-Focused Individuals
Scenario / Prompt | BBS-Affected Response | Outcome-Focused Response |
---|---|---|
“We need to document a rationale for that decision.” | “Great, I’ll create a Decision Rationale Form (DRM-02c) and, depending on the decision, it’ll require four (4) levels of sign-off.” | “Sure. One paragraph in the report will do.” |
“Let’s get a consultation on this new process.” | “We should form a Consultation Advisory Panel to decide the Terms of Reference for broader stakeholder input.” | “Ask the two people who do it daily.” |
“This policy is out of date and never used.” | “Let’s revise it, reformat it, and send it out for version control and formal endorsement. Ensure all employees acknowledge it is through our HR compliance monitoring dashboard.” | “Delete it.” |
“Can we simplify this form?” | “Yes, let’s create a sub-form for the simpler elements and reference the original in an annexure, ensuring it’s used in all other circumstances.” | “Yes. Cut it to one page.” |
“No one is following this new procedure.” | “We need to increase mandatory training and create a compliance monitoring dashboard. Track employee acknowledgement of each new procedure, even if it isn’t relevant to them” | “Maybe there’s too many?” |
“How are we tracking success?” | “Well, uptake of the new process forms has increased by 40% this quarter.” | “What’s the impact on the clients?” |
“Do we need approval for this minor change?” | “Absolutely. We’ll initiate a Change Management Proposal and circulate for Level 3 sign-off, send to the manager so they can get the admin team to take a look at it” | “I fixed it.” |
“We’re short-staffed today.” | “Let’s draft a workflow exception policy and convene a resource reallocation strategy an all-staff meeting at 10am.” | “OK, I’ll cover phones. You take front desk.” |
“There’s been a complaint.” | “We’ll open a feedback incident file and create a reflective practice template for future prevention.” | “Let’s call them and sort it out.” |
“Can we trial this idea before rolling it out?” | “Of course. We’ll do a pre-pilot pilot, then a review of the pilot’s readiness for a formal pilot phase.” | “I’ll try it Monday and see how it goes.” |
What follows are the diagnostic criteria I have gathered—drawn from long hours in meeting rooms, shared drives, and that most sacred of habitats: the email chain.
Bureaucratic Blindness Syndrome (BBS)
Proposed Condition — DSM-6
Diagnostic Code: 99.99
Diagnostic Criteria
A. A pervasive pattern of excessive procedural elaboration and inability to recognise task simplification, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by four (or more) of the following:
- Creates or expands documentation, forms, checklists, or reporting mechanisms in response to simple or previously resolved tasks, despite objective evidence that the current process is already sufficient.
- Demonstrates persistent belief that no task, however minor, is complete without a written policy, two levels of approval, and a monthly compliance audit.
- Displays marked distress when colleagues bypass unnecessary steps or streamline processes, even when outcomes improve.
- Routinely initiates new administrative procedures during periods of severe organisational inefficiency or financial deficit, citing “accountability” or “best practice” despite an obvious need for a focus on outcomes.
- Shows resistance to feedback suggesting simplification, interpreting such feedback as negligence or a threat to institutional integrity.
- Experiences satisfaction or perceived accomplishment primarily through the act of form creation, version control, or workflow mapping, rather than task completion or outcome.
- When confronted with inefficiency, reflexively proposes additional oversight, an all-staff meeting or ‘a working body’ rather than resolve the root causes.
B. The behaviour results in significant impairment in workplace efficiency, team morale, or organisational adaptability.
C. The behaviour is not better explained by oppressive managerial control of low paid employees, who are outnumbered by budget-tight-executives 3:1, just doing it for minimum award-level salary.
Specifiers (subtypes)
- With Delusional Formalism: Believes all social or professional dysfunctions can be resolved through a correctly formatted policy document.
- With Hierarchical Fixation: Strongly believes that adding more layers of approval improves quality, regardless of context or history.
- With Redundancy Justification: Insists that duplicate forms, steps, or approvals serve a unique and essential purpose, even when outcomes are identical or the process was recently streamlined.
- With Acronym Proliferation: Exhibits compulsive creation and use of internal acronyms for every process or document, often leading to confusion and obfuscation rather than clarity.
- With Compliance Evangelism: Views any deviation from stated procedure as morally or professionally suspect, regardless of context or consequence; frequently invokes “risk” or “governance” in conversations unrelated to either.
- With Procedural Hoarding: Resists removal or revision of outdated forms, checklists, or workflows, regardless of relevance. May express emotional attachment to legacy procedures (“Just in case we need it someday”).
- With Serial Committee Formation: Habitually proposes new committees, working groups, or advisory panels to address issues already within someone’s remit or solvable by common sense.
- With Cascade Escalation: Routinely responds to small problems by escalating to upper management or regulatory bodies, rather than seeking proportionate or local resolution.
- With Form Reification: Treats forms or documentation as ontologically real and authoritative, even when disconnected from actual practice. Believes that if a form exists, it must be used.
- With Digital Workflow Fetishism: Insists on migrating all functions to complex digital platforms, regardless of usability or cost-benefit. Views software complexity as inherently virtuous.
This field report marks only the beginning. Much remains to be studied—patterns of social reinforcement among the affected, habitat preferences (notably open-plan offices and Teams channels), and the curious absence of self-awareness in even the most seasoned procedural architects. I have no doubt there are variants yet undiscovered. Future research will focus on intervention methods, containment strategies, and whether those afflicted can ever be gently reintroduced to outcome-based work without distress.
But for now, I continue to observe. Quietly. Patiently. Among the forms.