Monday, 2 November 2026

The Babel of Consciences

To my friend Colin, for the nights lost in endless conversations, where thoughts meet and questions stay awake alongside us.


Why does humanity communicate more than ever, yet struggle to understand one another?

Never in human history have we possessed so many means of communication, and never has it been so easy to see how difficult it is for us to understand one another. Technology has eliminated distances, bridged geographical boundaries, made knowledge accessible to billions of people, and enabled the almost instantaneous transmission of information. We can communicate with anyone, anywhere, at any time. Yet the ability to exchange words does not necessarily imply the ability to exchange meaning. Behind the apparent unity of an interconnected world lies a deeper contradiction. Humanity has succeeded in connecting its machines without having succeeded in ensuring genuine understanding among its people.

The biblical account of the Tower of Babel, in the eleventh chapter of Genesis, offers a compelling symbol of this contradiction. Humanity, originally speaking a common language, attempts to build a city and a tower reaching towards heaven. The confusion of languages interrupts their undertaking and leads to their dispersion. Regardless of the theological interpretation of this narrative, we may ask what Babel would mean for humanity today. For modern confusion does not appear to lie primarily in the diversity of languages. It lies in the diversity of mindsets, perceptions, values, and, ultimately, the very criteria by which people understand reality.

Two people may speak the same language and use precisely the same words, yet attach entirely different meanings to them. For one, freedom means personal autonomy; for another, social responsibility. Justice may be understood as equality of opportunity, equality of outcomes, or the fair reward of individual effort. Progress may be associated with economic growth, technological innovation, or the moral advancement of society. Even truth, which ought to serve as a common point of reference, is frequently confused with personal conviction. Consequently, people do not merely disagree about the answers. Often, they cannot even agree on what the questions mean.

The problem, however, extends beyond the different meanings assigned to words. Every human being interprets the world through a complex network of experiences, knowledge, cultural influences, emotions, and social relationships. Family, education, environment, economic circumstances, and personal experiences all contribute to shaping individual perceptions. These factors are not, in themselves, obstacles to understanding. Human diversity can enrich collective thought. The obstacle arises when personal perceptions become unquestionable certainties and every opposing position is perceived as a threat.

Cognitive psychology has provided significant insights into this phenomenon. In a classic study published in 1979, Charles Lord, Lee Ross, and Mark Lepper examined how individuals holding opposing views on capital punishment evaluated scientific evidence concerning its effectiveness. They found that participants tended to regard information supporting their existing beliefs as more convincing, while approaching contradictory evidence with greater scepticism. This phenomenon of biased assimilation reveals an uncomfortable characteristic of human reasoning. Access to the same evidence does not always lead to shared conclusions. Sometimes, it reinforces the original disagreement.

This suggests that the pursuit of truth can give way to the need for self-validation. When a belief becomes closely associated with our personal or collective identity, questioning it may feel like questioning our very worth. Dialogue then changes its character. It ceases to be an attempt at understanding and becomes a contest for dominance. The other person is no longer regarded as a potential source of knowledge but as an opponent who must be defeated. The willingness to reconsider one's position, essential to genuine intellectual progress, comes to be perceived as weakness.

The digital age adds another dimension to this human tendency. Social media did not invent prejudice, propaganda, or social conflict. It has, however, created new conditions for the dissemination, amplification, and commercial exploitation of information. In 2018, researchers at MIT examined approximately 126,000 stories shared on Twitter between 2006 and 2017 and found that false news spread faster and more widely than true news within the dataset they studied. The research does not establish that every falsehood invariably prevails over the truth. It does, however, demonstrate how significantly surprise, emotion, and human behaviour can influence the circulation of information.

Even more troubling is the finding that mere exposure to different viewpoints does not necessarily reduce polarisation. In an experimental study published in 2018, Christopher Bail and his colleagues found that exposure to opposing political views on Twitter could, under certain conditions, intensify political polarisation. This finding does not mean that dialogue is futile. Rather, it suggests that genuine understanding requires more than passive exposure to different opinions. It requires a willingness to listen, examine arguments, and acknowledge the possibility of being wrong.

The consequences extend far beyond the digital world. When individuals and social groups cease to trust common procedures for establishing facts, one of the fundamental conditions of social coexistence begins to weaken. Democracy does not require its citizens to agree on everything. It does, however, depend upon their ability to disagree within a shared framework of institutions, reason, evidence, and mutual recognition. If every side believes that it alone possesses the truth and that all contradictory information must necessarily be the product of deception, disagreements become increasingly difficult to resolve through reasoned argument.

We must not overlook, however, that human misunderstanding does not arise exclusively from our cognitive limitations or differing perceptions. There are circumstances in which confusion serves political, economic, and ideological interests. Misinformation, the selective presentation of facts, the systematic cultivation of fear, and the transformation of public debate into spectacle can become instruments of manipulation. When attention becomes a marketable commodity and social confrontation a means of influence, genuine understanding may come into conflict with the interests of those who benefit from maintaining confusion. Thus, modern Babel is not merely the product of human weakness. It can also become an object of deliberate exploitation.

It would, of course, be an oversimplification to attribute this situation entirely to technology. A systematic review of 496 scientific studies, published in Nature Human Behaviour, identified both positive and negative associations between digital media and democratic processes. Increased political participation coexists with evidence of intensified polarisation and declining institutional trust in certain environments. Technology, therefore, is neither the sole cause of society's problems nor a guarantee of their resolution. Its influence depends on human behaviour, institutions, and the incentives that shape its use.

At this point, the question of education inevitably arises. Modern society frequently confuses information with knowledge and knowledge with wisdom. Yet these represent different levels of human understanding. Information tells us something. Knowledge enables us to explain it. Critical thinking helps us determine whether that explanation is sound. Wisdom, in its philosophical sense, is associated with the ability to use what we know with judgement, moderation, and responsibility. A person may possess an enormous amount of information and still be unable to recognise the limits of their own understanding.

If education becomes limited to the accumulation of information and the development of professional skills, while neglecting moral judgement, dialogue, and intellectual independence, technologically advanced humanity risks remaining vulnerable to the same prejudices that characterised previous generations. Technological development does not automatically imply moral progress. Our ability to construct increasingly powerful tools does not guarantee that we possess the maturity to use them for the benefit of humanity.

Here, modern Babel acquires a deeper dimension. It is not merely a question of the inability to communicate across different mindsets. It concerns the possible weakening of the very willingness to seek a truth that may lie beyond our personal convictions. When truth is treated as the property of a group, an ideology, or an individual, its pursuit is replaced by the defence of identity. Doubt ceases to function as an instrument of knowledge and is presented as weakness, while certainty acquires value regardless of the evidence supporting it.

There is, however, a fundamental difference between seeking the truth and seeking to be right. In the first case, a person accepts the possibility of error and remains open to knowledge. In the second, personal conviction becomes something that must be defended at any cost. Truth then ceases to be a destination and becomes an instrument of self-validation. And when this attitude dominates public discourse, people may use the same words, invoke the same values, and refer to the same events, yet remain incapable of finding common ground even at the level of reason itself.

We must not, however, confuse the recognition of different perspectives with the denial of objective reality. The fact that people interpret events differently does not mean that all interpretations are equally well-founded. The scientific method, logical argumentation, and the possibility of publicly scrutinising claims remain fundamental instruments for approaching reality. Truth is not determined by how many people agree with us, nor by the intensity with which we defend our opinions. On the contrary, recognising that we may be mistaken is a necessary condition for moving closer to it.

Perhaps the greatest threat to human understanding is not disagreement itself, but the moral discrediting of those with whom we disagree. When a different opinion is automatically associated with malicious intent, ignorance, or immorality, the possibility of meaningful dialogue disappears. People begin to divide themselves into opposing camps, and social life becomes a perpetual confrontation between identities. We no longer listen in order to understand. We listen in order to identify the next argument we can use against the other person. In this way, communication may continue endlessly while understanding steadily diminishes.

Yet there is an even deeper dimension to modern misunderstanding, one that concerns neither a lack of knowledge nor the limitations of human reason, but our relationship with truth itself. What happens when a person knows that a piece of information is false but chooses to spread it because it serves their interests? When someone recognises that another person is right but refuses to acknowledge it because doing so would require abandoning their own position? When honesty gives way to expediency and personal advantage becomes more important than moral consistency? At that point, the problem is no longer merely cognitive. It becomes a matter of conscience. Truth is rejected not because it is incomprehensible, but because it is unwelcome. And a society in which truth is treated as an instrument rather than a value risks losing something far more important than the ability to communicate: the trust that makes human coexistence possible.

A person who does not know can learn. Someone who is mistaken can reconsider. But a person who knows the truth and deliberately distorts it presents a fundamentally different problem, because the difficulty lies not in knowledge but in moral choice.

The contradiction becomes even more striking when we consider that modern humanity possesses unprecedented opportunities to study the functioning of the human brain, understand cognitive biases, and identify the mechanisms that influence behaviour. We know more about the limitations of human judgement, yet this does not mean that we have learned to overcome them. Self-awareness does not automatically emerge from an understanding of psychology. It requires personal effort, honesty, and the willingness to confront our own contradictions.

The crucial issue, therefore, is not to create a world in which everyone thinks alike. Such a world would not represent the overcoming of Babel, but the denial of human freedom. The real challenge is to develop a common language of understanding without abolishing diversity of thought. To disagree without denying the human worth of others, to seek evidence without subordinating facts to our desires, and to reconsider our beliefs without feeling that we are losing our identity.

Perhaps, ultimately, the most important question that Babel poses to modern civilisation concerns not language, but conscience. The human capacity to turn inward, recognise one's limitations, and perceive another person not as an obstacle to personal certainty, but as a fellow traveller in the effort to understand the world. Such an attitude does not require us to abandon our convictions. It requires us not to consider them beyond examination.

Humanity does not need a single common language in the literal sense, nor does it need a unified ideology. It needs something far more difficult and profound: a shared commitment to truth, human dignity, and the responsibility that comes with coexistence. For a civilisation is judged not only by what it can build, but also by whether its people can understand one another.

And perhaps this is the greatest irony of our time. We have acquired the means for the entire world to speak to the entire world, yet we are still searching for the wisdom that would allow us to truly listen to one another.

References

Lord, C. G., Ross, L., & Lepper, M. R. (1979). Biased assimilation and attitude polarization: The effects of prior theories on subsequently considered evidence. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 37(11), 2098–2109

Vosoughi, S., Roy, D., & Aral, S. (2018). The spread of true and false news online. Science, 359(6380), 1146–1151.

Bail, C. A., et al. (2018). Exposure to opposing views on social media can increase political polarization. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 115(37), 9216–9221.

Pennycook, G., & Rand, D. G. (2021). The psychology of fake news. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 25(5), 388–402

Lorenz-Spreen, P., Oswald, L., Lewandowsky, S., & Hertwig, R. (2023). A systematic review of worldwide causal and correlational evidence on digital media and democracy. Nature Human Behaviour, 7, 74–101.

The Holy Bible, Genesis 11:1–9.


Sunday, 25 October 2026

The Morality of Self-Deception

“Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness.”

Matthew 23:27, King James Version

With this remarkably severe comparison, Christ exposes one of the deepest contradictions of human nature: the distance between what a person appears to be and what they truly are. Whitewashed tombs, immaculate and carefully maintained on the outside, conceal decay and death within. So it is with those who cloak themselves in virtue, piety and moral superiority, while behind that carefully cultivated image may lie self-interest, injustice and corruption.

Yet this image goes beyond deliberate deception. It leads us to a more profound question: what happens when someone who is pretending has managed to convince even themselves that they really are the person they claim to be?

There are two forms of hypocrisy worth distinguishing.

The first is conscious hypocrisy. A person knows who they are, what they are doing and whose interests they serve. Nevertheless, they choose to present a different image of themselves. They use morality as a mask, virtue as a form of self-promotion, and piety as a means of acquiring status, power or trust. They know they are deceiving others and, precisely because they know it, they remain aware of the distance between reality and pretence.

The second form is more complex and potentially more dangerous. It is hypocrisy that has evolved into self-deception. A person has repeated their falsehoods so often, and identified so deeply with the image they have constructed, that they eventually accept it as their true identity. They are no longer merely playing the part of a virtuous person. They are convinced that they are virtuous. They no longer pretend to serve the truth. They believe that their own understanding of things is the truth itself.

At this point, the mask ceases to be merely an instrument of deception and becomes part of the person’s identity. Self-criticism recedes, doubt disappears, and every opposing view is perceived as a threat. Such a person no longer feels the need to account for their actions, because they have convinced themselves that their intentions are good. And when someone takes the goodness of their intentions for granted, they may eventually find ways to justify even their most unjust actions.

Modern psychology offers us several tools for understanding this phenomenon. One of them is cognitive dissonance, a concept developed by Leon Festinger in 1957. When a person’s actions conflict with their beliefs or with the image they hold of themselves, psychological discomfort may arise. To reduce that discomfort, they may change their behaviour. But they may also take an easier route: reinterpret their actions so that they appear consistent with their supposed moral integrity.

In this way, injustice can be presented as necessary firmness, vindictiveness as the pursuit of justice, self-interest as public service, and coercion as the protection of the common good. The individual does not necessarily deny the facts. Instead, they alter the moral meaning of those facts so that they need not question themselves.

The psychologist Albert Bandura described related mechanisms through the concept of moral disengagement. People can disconnect their actions from the moral principles they claim to uphold by employing justifications, euphemisms or shifting responsibility onto others. In doing so, they may commit acts they would condemn under different circumstances, while continuing to believe that their moral integrity remains intact.

Yet this phenomenon has concerned thinkers for far longer than modern psychology has existed.

Socrates, as portrayed in Plato’s Apology, emphasises the importance of recognising one’s own ignorance. Awareness of the limits of one’s knowledge is a prerequisite for the pursuit of truth. Conversely, those who are convinced that they know what they do not actually know deprive themselves of the very motivation to question their assumptions.

Christian teaching presents a related, though distinct, concern. In the Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector (Luke 18:9–14), the Pharisee prays by listing his virtues and comparing himself favourably with others. The tax collector, by contrast, stands at a distance and says:

“God be merciful to me a sinner.”

Christ concludes that it was the tax collector, rather than the Pharisee, who went home justified.

The essential point of the parable is not that the tax collector had necessarily been a better person throughout his life. It is that he recognised his moral condition, whereas the Pharisee regarded his own virtue as an established fact.

Here lies a deeper dimension of the image of the whitewashed tombs.

A person who knows they are capable of being wrong retains the possibility of correcting themselves. Someone who has elevated their own moral judgement to the status of unquestionable truth risks losing even the ability to recognise their mistakes.

But this raises a difficult philosophical question: if someone has genuinely convinced themselves that they are doing good, are they still responsible for the harm they cause?

The answer is not straightforward. Moral responsibility is connected, among other things, to intention, knowledge, freedom of choice and the ability to foresee the consequences of one’s actions. We cannot necessarily assign the same degree of responsibility to someone who deliberately deceives others and someone who acts under a genuine, perhaps involuntary, misconception.

There is, however, a crucial distinction between being unable to know the truth and being unwilling to seek it.

People are not always responsible for what they do not know. They may, however, bear responsibility for how they respond to their own ignorance, particularly when evidence that they are mistaken is available to them and they systematically choose to reject it.

Self-deception does not always arise from a conscious decision. It may develop gradually through fears, desires, social pressures and psychological mechanisms over which we have only limited control. But this does not mean that every form of self-deception is morally innocent.

There are circumstances in which people avoid examining their actions precisely because they suspect what they might discover. They refuse to listen to opposing views, make no effort to seek evidence that might challenge their convictions, and dismiss all criticism in advance as malicious.

At that point, ignorance ceases to be merely a limitation of knowledge. It can become a form of moral avoidance.

And here responsibility takes on a particular significance: it concerns not only the wrongs we commit, but also the effort we make, or deliberately avoid making, to determine whether we are truly doing what is right.

This does not mean that every doubt is a virtue or that every certainty is evidence of hypocrisy. Human beings need convictions in order to act and principles by which to orient themselves. But they also need the intellectual honesty to acknowledge that their beliefs may be mistaken and that good intentions do not guarantee good outcomes.

This distinction becomes even more important when self-deception is combined with power.

A person who deceives themselves may cause harm within their immediate circle. But when that person acquires authority over others, their private delusions can become a collective reality. The conviction that they are serving a higher purpose may be used to justify oppression, injustice and even the destruction of those regarded as opponents.

History offers numerous examples of individuals and institutions invoking noble ideals to legitimise actions that contradicted those very ideals. We need not assume that all of them knew they were deceiving others. Some may have sincerely believed that they were acting for the greater good.

But the sincerity of a belief is no proof of its truth.

Nor does invoking a noble purpose automatically absolve anyone of responsibility for the means they employ.

This brings us back to Christ’s original image.

A whitewashed tomb does not cease to be a tomb simply because its exterior is clean. And injustice does not cease to be injustice merely because the person committing it chooses to call it justice.

The outward mask may deceive others. It may even deceive the person wearing it. But it cannot, by itself, alter the reality it conceals.

Perhaps, then, the deepest warning we can draw from Christ’s words concerns not only the need to be honest with others. Above all, it concerns the need to be honest with ourselves.

For self-knowledge does not begin when we discover our virtues, but when we find the courage to acknowledge our contradictions.

True moral integrity does not lie in the conviction that we are always right, but in the willingness to examine whether we actually are. It does not lie in the absence of mistakes, but in our ability to recognise them, accept responsibility for them and attempt to put them right.

The conscious hypocrite knows that a distance exists between the mask and the face beneath it. The self-deceived individual has lost awareness of that distance.

The first whitewashes the tomb to deceive others. The second whitewashes it to avoid confronting what lies within.

And perhaps the greatest tragedy is not that the latter has forgotten what lies inside the tomb, but that they have stopped asking.

For the more thoroughly one whitewashes a tomb, the easier it becomes to forget what lies within. And when the whiteness of its surface becomes, in one’s own mind, proof of its purity, hypocrisy has completed its work: it no longer needs to conceal the truth, because it has extinguished the very need to seek it.

Monday, 28 September 2026

Greece Under “Occupation”: From the Kotsambasis to Modern Networks of Influence

The political independence of a state can easily be represented by a Constitution, a flag, borders, a government and membership in international organisations. Its actual autonomy is far more difficult to measure. It depends on who can restrict its choices, who controls access to financing and critical infrastructure, who participates in shaping policy before it ever reaches Parliament, who possesses the economic and communicative resources to place an issue at the centre of public debate, and which people inside the country function as connecting nodes to more powerful centres abroad.

It is in this sense that the term “occupation” is used here. It describes a condition in which the institutions of independence formally exist while the actual exercise of sovereignty is constrained by a dense web of economic dependencies, geopolitical commitments, transnational interests and domestic networks capable of transforming external power into internal influence.

The history of this mechanism predates the establishment of the Greek state.

Within the Ottoman Empire, authority in the Greek-speaking territories was not exercised solely by the central administration. Local notables, kotsambasides, communal leaders, ecclesiastical figures, tax intermediaries and local economic elites stood between imperial authority and local society. Their position allowed them to accumulate social, economic and political power. Authority therefore also functioned through networks. Access to the person who made the decision constituted a form of power in itself.

The Revolution of 1821 overthrew Ottoman sovereignty in the territories from which the new Greek state was formed. Societies, however, do not restart from zero with the signing of a treaty. People, property, families, local hierarchies, relationships of protection and networks of acquaintances entered the new political order with them. The historiography of Greek clientelism has highlighted this continuity. Sections of the pre-revolutionary elites were incorporated into the new political class, while personal mediation continued to play an important role in gaining access to the state.

At the same time, the newly created Greek state was born within a system of international protection. Britain, France and Russia played a decisive role in the process of its creation, in determining its international status and in selecting the monarchical solution. In 1832, the Bavarian Prince Otto was chosen for the Greek throne, while the three Powers guaranteed the large loan of 60 million francs associated with the establishment of the new regime.

This external presence did not remain confined to diplomacy. It penetrated domestic political life through the English, French and Russian parties. John A. Petropulos’s classic study of the nineteenth-century Greek state documents the ways in which Greek political factions were linked to the three Protecting Powers and their embassies. Domestic political rivalry therefore became intertwined with international competition.

This reveals one of the deeper patterns of modern Greek history. A foreign power seeking influence rarely needs to administer a country directly. Far more effective is a domestic mechanism that understands the language, the society, the political balance and the relevant personalities, while having its own reasons for connecting its power to an external centre.

The domestic actor may gain protection, money, access, political connections, professional opportunities or social prestige. The external centre gains a person or organisation capable of operating within the local system far more effectively than a foreign official could.

This phenomenon is not uniquely Greek. In examining contemporary mechanisms of foreign interference, the European Parliament explicitly uses the term “domestic proxies” and notes that foreign actors may be assisted by political accomplices inside EU member states who derive political or economic advantages from advancing foreign strategies. The same resolution observes that the use of domestic proxies and cooperation with domestic allies can blur the boundary between external and internal influence.

In Greece this mechanism was already visible during the nineteenth century. A political actor connected to one of the Protecting Powers was not necessarily its passive instrument. He could also use that relationship to strengthen his own position domestically. Dependence therefore created a system of mutual usefulness between partners whose actual power, however, was far from equal.

Later, the same basic mechanism acquired a much more tangible economic form.

The Greek bankruptcy of 1893 and the military defeat of 1897 led to the establishment of International Financial Control in 1898. The International Financial Commission, composed of representatives of six foreign powers, acquired supervisory authority over specific sources of Greek state revenue. State monopolies, tax revenues and customs receipts were assigned to service the country’s creditors. Economic sovereignty was therefore restricted through the mechanism of debt.

This is central to understanding the history that followed. The power generated by lending is different from military conquest, yet it has real political consequences. A state dependent on the next tranche of financing occupies a considerably weaker negotiating position than the body capable of deciding whether that financing will continue.

In 1927 Greece again faced serious economic and fiscal difficulties and turned to the League of Nations. The Geneva Protocol of 15 September 1927 was linked to a £9 million loan and to an institutional reorganisation of the Greek monetary system. The Bank of Greece itself records that the League of Nations, which mediated the loan, proposed the creation of a separate central bank and that the Bank of Greece was established within the framework of that agreement.

The repetition of the pattern is striking. Economic crisis, a need for foreign financing, negotiations with a more powerful external institution, financial assistance, and accompanying changes in domestic institutions or economic policy.

After the Second World War, the system assumed another form. Greece found itself at the centre of the first confrontations of the Cold War, while the devastated economy and the Civil War made the country exceptionally dependent on external support. Britain could no longer maintain its previous level of involvement, and the United States assumed a central role.

American government archives are remarkably explicit.

In a memorandum from Dean Acheson to President Truman on 23 May 1947, it was stated that the Greek government would retain responsibility for domestic reconstruction, while the United States government would exercise “full control” over the expenditure of American funds and over Greek government programmes directly affecting the success of American assistance.

Preparatory American documents also proposed general supervision of public finances and participation in the formulation of fiscal policy. The official instructions issued to the head of the American Mission for Aid to Greece gave him substantial powers relating to the conditions attached to aid and the supervision of reconstruction programmes.

Even more revealing is a telegram from the U.S. State Department in November 1947. It acknowledged that the United States government had necessarily become involved in certain aspects of Greek internal affairs and stated that American influence should be exercised as discreetly as possible. The same document noted the desirability, where possible, of leaving responsibility and public credit for measures to the Greek government and the Greek people.

This document is particularly important to the argument developed here. It demonstrates that external power can be exercised effectively without continuously appearing in the foreground. Discreet influence requires local institutions and local people capable of implementing, supporting and legitimising decisions within the domestic political environment.

This is precisely the role that is so often missing from narratives of Greek dependence.

Foreign actors possess no magical ability to impose anything they wish upon a society. They require domestic collaborators, groups with converging interests, political interlocutors, business partners, administrative officials, people with access to the media, and networks capable of transferring a priority from the international level into the domestic political system.

In some cases there is ideological identification. In others there is financial gain, professional advancement, political protection or access to international centres. Frequently, several of these factors coexist. A person does not need to receive secret instructions in order to serve an external interest in practice. It is sufficient for his own position, financing or political power to be strengthened when specific external priorities are successfully promoted within the country.

Post-dictatorship Greece added to this mechanism an extensive system of party and social mediation. Political science literature has described Greek “bureaucratic clientelism”, party patronage and the close relationships between organised interests and political parties. For large sections of society, the state became less an impersonal mechanism applying universal rules and more an arena in which organised groups competed for positions, resources, privileges and access.

The old kotsambasis did not survive as a person. The function of the access broker found new forms.

The local party boss, the trade-union official, the business association, the legal or consultancy firm, the powerful publisher, the professional organisation, the think tank, the NGO, the expert moving between the private and public sectors, the academic network and the public-relations company can, depending on circumstances, act as nodes within a far more complex system.

This is one of the major transformations of the twenty-first century. Political influence is no longer concentrated solely within political parties.

Modern public policy is produced within an ecosystem of organisations. Ministries work with consultants. European programmes finance projects. Foundations fund research and organisations. Think tanks produce policy proposals. NGOs participate in public consultations and international networks. Companies and professional associations maintain organised representation. Academics and experts serve on committees. Media organisations decide which experts and which studies become visible to the wider public. Within this system, money does not need to purchase a political decision directly in order to acquire political significance.

Funding determines which programmes can exist. Programmes create jobs and organisations. Organisations produce research and recommendations. Recommendations create experts. Experts gain access to committees and media platforms. The repetition of particular ideas gives them legitimacy and gradually introduces them into the vocabulary of public policy.

Economic capital can therefore be converted into social capital and, ultimately, into political influence.

International scholarship has examined this problem through resource dependence theory. An organisation that depends significantly on external donors must take into account the priorities of the sources that make its survival possible. This does not automatically turn every funded organisation into an instrument of its donor. It does, however, create a real system of incentives within which funding, agenda-setting and organisational strategy can interact.

The phenomenon becomes politically critical when such networks enjoy greater access to centres of power than the citizen who is supposedly the source of democratic sovereignty.

The European Union itself has recognised that foreign interference can operate through political allies, the financing of parties and organisations, media outlets, economic dependencies, academic and cultural institutions, and what it describes as “elite capture and co-optation”.

The issue therefore extends far beyond money. It concerns the creation of social networks of influence.

Someone funds a programme. Someone administers that funding. Someone selects the participants. Someone writes the report. Someone is invited as an expert. Someone has access to a minister or to a European institution. Someone appears on television to explain to the public why a particular policy is necessary. These individuals may act entirely in good faith and genuinely believe in the positions they defend. The operation of the network remains politically significant because it produces accumulated access that the ordinary citizen does not possess.

Greece now has an institutional framework for lobbying. Law 4829/2021 established a Transparency Register, and the OECD records for 2026 that Greece fulfils 60% of its regulatory criteria for lobbying and 56% of its criteria relating to implementation in practice. The Greek framework defines lobbying as direct communication with institutional representatives for the purpose of influencing decision-making and covers individuals and organisations carrying out such activity for remuneration.

This, however, captures only one part of the contemporary ecosystem of influence. Political influence may occur long before direct contact with a minister. It may lie in deciding which research is funded, in constructing a network of experts, in repeatedly producing particular policy proposals, in obtaining access to the media and in the ability of an organisation to transform its own agenda into an issue of national debate.

The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) has used the term policy capture to describe a process in which public decisions are systematically or repeatedly directed away from the public interest and towards the interests of specific groups. It notes that this can occur through illegal practices, but also through entirely lawful mechanisms such as lobbying, political financing, the shaping of information available to decision-makers and close social relationships. This observation fundamentally changes the way power should be understood. A system may be formally lawful while distributing the actual capacity to influence decisions in an extremely unequal manner. The citizen has one vote.

An organised institution may have permanent staff, lawyers, economists, communications specialists, consultants, access to international conferences, personal relationships with political officials and a continuous presence in the policy-making process. These two forms of political presence do not carry the same actual weight.

OECD data for Greece are revealing. In its trust survey published in 2026, only 21% of respondents in Greece believed that people like themselves had a say in what the government does. The figure remained at 21% in both 2023 and 2025, while Greeks also gave low assessments of the system’s ability to take different interests into account and deal with complex issues in the public interest. 

This is the first direct cost to the citizen: political inequality. The vote remains equal. Access to the production of policy does not.

The second cost appears in the economy.

When organised groups obtain privileged access to taxation policy, subsidies, public contracts, licensing procedures, regulation or the distribution of state and European resources, their benefits exist within a system of finite resources. Preferential treatment for one group may mean a higher tax burden for others, barriers to entry for smaller businesses, more expensive services or lower-quality public goods. The OECD associates policy capture with greater inequality, erosion of trust, the weakening of democratic values and lower economic growth.

The third cost is the diffusion of responsibility.

The Greek crisis after 2010 provides a characteristic example. Greece lost access to international markets and entered programmes of international financing that linked disbursements to fiscal targets and specific reforms. Decisions affected salaries, pensions, taxes, labour relations, public property and social services. Enhanced surveillance ended in 2022, but Greece remains under post-programme surveillance. The European Commission published another post-programme surveillance assessment on 3 June 2026. The financial consequences of these programmes extend much further into the future. Official EFSF repayment schedules include Greek principal repayments extending to 2070.

Within such a system the citizen faces a problem of democratic accountability. A government can invoke obligations to creditors or the European framework. European institutions can point out that final legislative decisions are taken by the Greek government and Parliament. The actual decision has emerged through a multilevel process of negotiation, making responsibility increasingly difficult to locate.

The fourth cost lies deeper within society and concerns the citizen’s own perception of the state.

In a state of strong institutions, a person knows that a service, licence, position or benefit depends upon general rules. When society becomes accustomed to mediation, the first question becomes: “Who do you know?”

That is where the political downgrading of the citizen begins. From a bearer of rights, he becomes a seeker of access. He looks for the MP, the party acquaintance, the trade-union official, the business figure, the person who “has connections”. The state gradually ceases to be experienced as a common institution and becomes an arena in which different networks compete for access. This is perhaps the deepest connection between the kotsambasis and the contemporary mechanism. The historical figure has disappeared. The function of the intermediary remains.

Today, however, the intermediary may possess a far greater reach. He may connect the Greek government with a foreign government, a multinational corporation, a European institution, an international foundation or a policy network. He may participate simultaneously in companies, organisations, research structures, committees and media outlets. He may move ideas, financing and people between different institutions. This is the contemporary carousel of influence. And there is no single player.

British interests have their own priorities. French, German, American, Russian, Chinese and other state or private centres have theirs. European institutions operate within their own institutional framework. Multinational companies pursue profit and access to markets. Private foundations promote programmes consistent with their stated purposes. Greek business groups pursue their own interests. Politicians seek power and re-election. Organisations require resources. Media organisations need revenue and access.

The lines intersect. Some Greek actors use international relationships to reinforce their own domestic position. Some external actors use their Greek interlocutors to reinforce theirs. Some individuals move between more than one of these worlds and create bridges between different interests.

It is within this environment that the concept of the “domestic proxy” becomes important. It does not describe every person who cooperates with a foreign organisation, nor every institution receiving international funding. It describes a situation in which a domestic actor uses his position to facilitate the advancement of an external interest while simultaneously obtaining political, economic or another form of advantage from that relationship. The European Parliament explicitly recognises the existence of this mechanism within European democracies.

Greek public debate frequently examines the foreign actor and pays much less attention to the domestic side of the relationship. Yet without that domestic component, much of the influence would be impossible. That is where the most uncomfortable questions begin.

Who opens the door?

Who gains locally from the relationship?

Who translates an external interest into Greek political language?

Who presents it as an obvious necessity?

Who produces the study that supposedly proves it?

Who finances the study?

Who invites its author onto the committee?

Who presents that person as an independent expert?

Who reaches the ministry before the citizen, the small business owner or the local community that will eventually live with the consequences of the decision?

These questions require no conspiracy theory. They require transparency. Funding, boards of directors, contracts, declarations of interests, lobbying, movement of personnel between the public and private sectors, membership of committees, ownership of media organisations and public subsidies can all be investigated.

That is where serious journalistic and academic scrutiny should be concentrated.

The mechanism of contemporary “occupation” has no need for a foreign governor sitting in a palace. It is far more effective to possess a network of people who already operate within the institutions of the country and whose interests sufficiently coincide with those of external centres for the general direction to reproduce itself without constant intervention. No one necessarily has to pick up the telephone. The system of incentives performs much of the work.

Greek history demonstrates a remarkable resilience of this mechanism. Ottoman administration relied on local intermediaries. The Great Powers developed political networks within the early Greek state. Creditors obtained institutionalised financial control in 1898. The League of Nations linked financing to institutional reforms during the interwar period. The United States acquired exceptionally extensive influence over economic and political reconstruction after 1947. Post-war and post-dictatorship Greece developed mass party and clientelist networks. The debt crisis again linked financing to external surveillance. The contemporary world has added an immense architecture of supranational institutions, private networks, lobbying, organisations, consultants, foundations and policy production. The continuity does not lie in the same people. It lies in the value of mediation. Whoever controls access between the citizen and power acquires influence.Whoever can connect domestic power with a stronger external centre acquires even more. And the less visible the network becomes, the harder it is for the citizen to understand who is actually influencing a decision. That is where the real democratic problem lies. Greece can have an elected Parliament while some of the most important parameters of a policy have already been shaped before the bill ever reaches MPs. 

It can hold free elections while access to centres of power remains extremely unequal. It can have hundreds of civil-society organisations while the citizen still lacks a clear picture of who funds some of them, which international networks support them and how much access they possess to decision-making.It can have media pluralism while economic power still determines to a significant degree who possesses the resources to produce public discourse continuously. Formal democracy therefore does not by itself guarantee substantive popular sovereignty. The citizen must be able to see the networks.

To know who finances whom.To know which interests are represented on a committee..To know the financial relationships of an organisation producing policy recommendations. To know who pays a lobbyist. To know the route followed by an individual moving from a corporation into a ministry and from a ministry into an international organisation.

To be able to follow the money, the relationships and the decisions. Real liberation of a society begins precisely there. Greece liberated itself militarily from the Ottoman Empire. The history that followed demonstrates how much more difficult it is to free a society from dependence on the intermediary, from the external protector, from the creditor who transforms debt into political leverage and from the domestic actor who turns his relationship with more powerful external players into personal or organisational advantage. Two centuries after the Revolution, perhaps this is the question most worth asking.

How much is formal sovereignty worth when the ordinary citizen stands at the far end of a network whose most powerful members possess money, international connections, access to institutions and the ability to shape even the framework within which public debate will take place? The most effective form of power does not always need to issue orders. It is enough to shape the people, incentives, networks, dependencies and limits within which decisions are made.

And when such a system becomes sufficiently deep, the citizen may continue to vote freely while a significant part of the field within which he is asked to choose has already been shaped before he ever reaches the ballot box.

Bibliography and Sources

Petropulos, John A., Politics and Statecraft in the Kingdom of Greece, 1833–1843, Princeton University Press. A classic study of the creation of the Greek state, the role of the Protecting Powers and the English, French and Russian parties.

Clogg, Richard, A Concise History of Greece, Cambridge University Press. On the formation of the Greek state, the monarchy of Otto and the political development of Greece during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.

Jelavich, Barbara, Russia and the Formation of the Romanian National State, 1821–1878, together with her related studies on Russian policy in the Balkans. Useful for the broader geopolitical environment of Great Power competition in Southeastern Europe.

Frary, Lucien J., Russia and the Making of Modern Greek Identity, 1821–1844, Oxford University Press, 2015. On relations between the newly established Greek state and Russia and the operation of international networks of influence.

Lyrintzis, Christos, “Political Parties in Post-Junta Greece: A Case of Bureaucratic Clientelism?”, West European Politics, 1984. On the transformation of Greek clientelism within the mass political parties of the post-dictatorship period.

Pappas, Takis S., and Assimakopoulou, Zina, “Party Patronage in Greece: Political Entrepreneurship in a Party Patronage Democracy”, in Party Patronage and Party Government in European Democracies, Oxford University Press. On party patronage and the use of state resources by political networks.

Zambarloukou, Stella, “Interest Group Politics”, The Oxford Handbook of Modern Greek Politics, Oxford University Press. On the relationship between organised interests, professional groups and the Greek political system.

Papathanassopoulos, Stylianos, “The Media”, The Oxford Handbook of Modern Greek Politics, Oxford University Press. On the historical relationship between media ownership, political elites and economic interests in Greece.

Bank of Greece, “History of the Bank of Greece”. The official history records that the Bank was established in 1927 under the Geneva Protocol in connection with a £9 million loan mediated by the League of Nations.

Bank of Greece, The History of the Bank of Greece 1928–2008. A detailed account of the Bank’s establishment and the role played by the League of Nations.

U.S. Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1947, The Near East and Africa, Volume V, Memorandum by Acting Secretary of State Dean Acheson to President Truman, 23 May 1947. On American control over funds and Greek programmes connected with aid.

U.S. Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1947, preparatory plan for the American Mission for Aid to Greece. Contains proposals for broad supervision of Greek public finances and participation in fiscal policy.

U.S. Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1947, Instructions to the Chief of the American Mission for Aid to Greece. On the authority of the American mission over aid management and reconstruction programmes.

U.S. Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1947, Telegram of the Secretary of State to the American Mission for Aid to Greece, 4 November 1947. The document acknowledges American involvement in aspects of Greek domestic affairs and calls for American influence to be exercised discreetly.

European Parliament, Resolution of 9 March 2022 on Foreign Interference in All Democratic Processes in the European Union, including Disinformation, 2020/2268(INI). Particularly relevant for the concepts of “domestic proxies”, “political accomplices”, “elite capture and co-optation”, the financing of organisations and media, and the operation of domestic networks of foreign influence.

OECD, Preventing Policy Capture: Integrity in Public Decision Making, OECD Publishing, Paris, 2017. On mechanisms through which organised interests can redirect public decisions away from the public interest through both lawful and unlawful forms of influence.

OECD, Public Integrity Handbook, 2020. On lobbying, political financing, conflicts of interest and mechanisms of policy capture.

OECD, Anti-Corruption and Integrity Outlook 2026: Greece, 24 March 2026. On Greece’s lobbying framework, Law 4829/2021 and implementation of the Transparency Register.

OECD, Survey on Drivers of Trust in Public Institutions 2026: Greece. On Greek citizens’ perceptions of political voice, participation in decision-making and trust in institutions.

European Commission, Financial Assistance to Greece and Post-Programme Surveillance Assessments. The European Commission published its spring post-programme surveillance assessment of Greece on 3 June 2026.

European Stability Mechanism / European Financial Stability Facility, official Greek loan repayment schedules. Certain EFSF tranches include principal repayments extending to 2070.

Mitchell, George E., “Strategic Responses to Resource Dependence Among Transnational NGOs Registered in the United States”, Voluntas: International Journal of Voluntary and Nonprofit Organizations. On the ways dependence on donors can influence organisational strategy and priorities.

Edwards, Michael, and Hulme, David, Too Close for Comfort? The Impact of Official Aid on Nongovernmental Organizations, World Development. On relationships between funding, organisational autonomy and NGO accountability.

Carpenter, Daniel, and Moss, David A. (eds.), Preventing Regulatory Capture: Special Interest Influence and How to Limit It, Cambridge University Press, 2014. On institutional and regulatory capture by organised interests.

Olson, Mancur, The Logic of Collective Action: Public Goods and the Theory of Groups, Harvard University Press, 1965. A foundational work explaining how small and highly organised groups can acquire disproportionate political influence over larger but more diffuse sections of society.

Putnam, Robert D., Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, Simon & Schuster, 2000. On social capital, networks and the relationship between social organisation and political functioning.

Granovetter, Mark, “The Strength of Weak Ties”, American Journal of Sociology, 1973. A foundational sociological study of social networks and the transmission of information and opportunities between different social groups.

Monday, 6 July 2026

Intelligent Machines Need Honest Human Beings

The world has changed its form. Cities have stretched into networks, markets have moved through algorithms, communication has become instant, and knowledge has passed from libraries to screens. Human beings have learned to intervene in the genome, map the brain, send machines to other planets, and create systems that write, calculate, predict, and decide at a speed that would have seemed unthinkable only a few generations ago.

Yet beneath this new form of the world, human beings still carry the same inner fractures. The same greed, the same arrogance, the same need for recognition, the same ease with self-deception, the same desire to dress self-interest in fine words. Technology has changed the scale of human action, but not automatically its quality. It has made human beings more powerful, faster, more interconnected. It has not necessarily made them more just.

This is the great moral problem of our age. We have created tools that can influence entire societies, yet we continue to handle them with human motives that have not changed very much since antiquity. Ambition, fear, vanity, greed, the need to dominate, the desire for image, and the avoidance of responsibility did not disappear because the world became digital. They simply found new means of expression.

Artificial intelligence makes this truth clearer. An intelligent machine can analyse data, detect patterns, produce texts, create images, assist in medicine, research, education, and administration. It can become a tool of remarkable progress. Yet the same power can be used for deception, surveillance, manipulation, the automation of injustice, and the concentration of power in hands that are not sufficiently accountable.

The critical point does not lie only in the machine. It lies in the human being who trains it, controls it, sells it, applies it, presents it as objective, hides it behind technical language, and ultimately decides which use of it is considered acceptable. The machine does not introduce ethics into the world by itself. Ethics enters through the human decisions that surround it.

Heraclitus wrote: “Ἦθος ἀνθρώπῳ δαίμων.” A person’s character is their fate. The phrase seems to come from far away, yet it speaks with precision to the present. The fate of a society is not judged only by the intelligence of its tools. It is judged by the character of the people who use them. An advanced system in the hands of people without integrity does not produce civilisation. It produces more efficient forms of injustice.

Today we speak constantly of innovation. The word has become almost ritualistic. Companies, governments, universities, organisations, politicians, and advertisers all use it. Every new platform, every new product, every new model is presented as a step towards the future. Yet we rarely ask with the same persistence what kind of human being this future serves and what kind of human being it produces. A world that optimises everything except its character risks becoming impressive on the surface and impoverished in depth.

Information overload is a clear example. We do not live in an age of silence. We live in an age of endless speech. Every event immediately becomes commentary, every comment becomes conflict, every conflict becomes content. Information does not simply reach the human being. It surrounds him. It stimulates him, exhausts him, angers him, confirms him, distracts him. Within this continuous flow, the distinction between what is true and what is merely impressive becomes increasingly difficult.

The most dangerous thing is not that people are always deceived through ignorance. Often they are deceived through desire. They want to believe something because it suits them, because it vindicates them, because it belongs to their group, because it gives them an enemy, because it removes the need to examine themselves. Algorithms did not create this weakness. They exploited it. They measured it, organised it, and commercialised it.

Public life is therefore filled with certainties without depth. People who have not read enough speak as though they know everything. People who have never doubted themselves demand that everyone trust their judgement. People who cannot bear complexity retreat into slogans. The speed of the age does not always leave room for maturity. It produces immediate reaction, but not necessarily thought.

In this environment, ethics is not a decorative concept. It is not a chapter in a corporate handbook or a fine word in a public speech. It is the practical force that limits arbitrariness when no one is watching. It is the inner resistance against the easy lie, the convenient half-truth, the well-crafted excuse, the abuse that might pass unnoticed. It is what remains when external control is absent.

The modern world has many mechanisms of compliance, but less inner discipline. It has policies, regulations, procedures, audits, frameworks, committees, and statements of values. All these are necessary. Yet they are not enough when people learn to bypass them, use them as alibis, or invoke them without believing in them. The language of ethics can easily become a tool of concealment when it is not accompanied by character.

We see this in workplaces where meritocracy is frequently mentioned, while mediocrity is protected when it proves useful. We see it in organisations that speak of transparency, while real decisions are made in closed rooms. We see it in public debates where truth gives way to strategic communication. We see it in technology too, when the word “innovation” is used to avoid questions about power, responsibility, and consequences.

The larger a system becomes, the greater its moral weight. A small mistake may affect a few people. A mistake embedded in a global digital system can affect millions. A bias that might once have remained inside an office can now pass into a model, a platform, or an automated decision-making mechanism. Injustice becomes harder to see when it acquires a technical form. It does not shout. It does not get angry. It does not always look like arbitrariness. Sometimes it appears as a neutral result.

That is why intelligent machines require more honest human beings. Not only more intelligent ones. Not only more qualified ones. More honest ones. People who can tell the truth even when it does not serve them. People who can recognise error before it becomes harm. People who do not use complexity as a refuge from responsibility. People who understand that the question “Can we do it?” is never enough without the question “What will it cause?”

Our age needs a more mature understanding of progress. Progress cannot be measured only in speed, productivity, capability, and scale. It must also be measured in the quality of human life, in justice, in trust, in truth, and in responsibility. Otherwise we produce a world that knows how to function better, but not necessarily how to live better.

The human being is the weak point of his greatest achievements. Not because he is incapable, but because he is divided. He can create and destroy with the same hand. Heal and exploit. Seek truth and prefer lies when they suit him. Speak of the common good while serving private interest. This fracture is not abolished by technology. It is transferred to a larger scale.

This is where the value of ancient wisdom lies. We do not need to turn it into a museum-piece invocation, nor load the present with aphorisms. It is enough to understand that earlier civilisations saw clearly something that remains true: human beings may change their tools, cities, institutions, and languages, but their inner struggle returns in a new form in every age. Hubris, vanity, greed, the blindness of power, and the need for self-restraint do not belong to the past. They circulate today under modern names.

If we wish to speak seriously about the future, then we must speak seriously about the human being. Not as a user, customer, voter, productive unit, or set of data. As a moral being who can rise to the level of his power or be crushed by it. Artificial intelligence, biotechnologies, global networks, and automated infrastructures do not free us from this need. They make it urgent.

The world has changed its form, but human beings still carry the same inner fractures. This must be the starting point of every serious discussion about progress. Intelligent machines will not correct the dishonest human being by themselves. They will give him stronger means. That is why the question of the future is not only technological. It is deeply moral.

The future will not be judged by whether machines become intelligent enough. It will be judged by whether human beings become honest enough to use them.

Bibliographical and Indicative References

Heraclitus, fragment B119: “Ἦθος ἀνθρώπῳ δαίμων.”

UNESCO, Recommendation on the Ethics of Artificial Intelligence, 2021.

OECD, OECD AI Principles, originally adopted in 2019 and revised in 2024.

European Union, Artificial Intelligence Act, 2024.

Zuboff, Shoshana, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for a Human Future at the New Frontier of Power, PublicAffairs, 2019.

O’Neil, Cathy, Weapons of Math Destruction: How Big Data Increases Inequality and Threatens Democracy, Crown, 2016.

Noble, Safiya Umoja, Algorithms of Oppression: How Search Engines Reinforce Racism, NYU Press, 2018.

Kozyreva, Anastasia, Lewandowsky, Stephan, and Hertwig, Ralph, “Citizens Versus the Internet: Confronting Digital Challenges With Cognitive Tools,” Psychological Science in the Public Interest, 2020.

Pennycook, Gordon, and Rand, David G., “The Psychology of Fake News,” Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 2021.

Floridi, Luciano, and Cowls, Josh, “A Unified Framework of Five Principles for AI in Society,” Harvard Data Science Review, 2019.

 

 

Wednesday, 14 January 2026

Idea Theft in the Workplace: Profiles, Impacts, and Countermeasures

“Idea theft,” or the appropriation of someone else’s idea, in the workplace refers to the practice whereby a person deliberately attributes to themselves the authorship of an idea, proposal, or piece of work that belongs to someone else, without giving due recognition. In other words, it is the unjustified claiming of another person’s contribution as one’s own. This often shows up in meetings or collaborative projects when an employee presents an idea that was first proposed by a colleague, receives the credit, and fails to mention the real originator. Although the phenomenon is well known in everyday business life, until recently it had not been studied as a distinct topic in the scientific literature and was usually treated as part of workplace bullying or broader toxic behaviour. More recent research, however, documents that idea theft is a distinct form of workplace misconduct and that it is particularly widespread. In studies involving more than 1,500 employees, 91% of participants reported that they had been victims, eyewitnesses, or even perpetrators of idea theft, while 87% had personally experienced having their work appropriated. This suggests that the practice occurs far more often than many would expect and constitutes a real problem for organisations. Moreover, incidents are often perceived by victims as intentional and can have significant consequences, even when the perpetrator claims there was no intent.

 

A key question is what kinds of people are more likely to engage in idea theft. Research in organisational psychology links certain personality traits, especially those associated with the so-called “Dark Triad,” to a higher likelihood of appropriating others’ intellectual work. Such individuals tend to show low empathy, a heightened sense of entitlement, and an instrumental view of other people, all of which facilitate unethical conduct for personal gain. Three broad profiles are commonly discussed. The first is narcissism. Narcissistic personalities are marked by an inflated ego, a need for admiration, and a sense that they “deserve everything.” In the workplace, a narcissistic person is primarily concerned with self-promotion and often has little hesitation about taking credit for others’ work in order to enhance their status. Empirical evidence indicates that people high in narcissism show weaker moral restraint and are more willing to lie, cheat, and steal compared with less narcissistic colleagues. A narcissistic employee may claim authorship of a successful idea even if it was not theirs, sincerely believing they deserve the reward. As a Cornell analysis has noted, narcissists often appropriate credit for others’ ideas and results, typically attributing success to themselves while deflecting responsibility when things go wrong.

The second profile is Machiavellianism. Machiavellians are described as highly cynical and manipulative types who operate with cold calculation to achieve their goals. An employee with Machiavellian traits is likely to view idea theft as a strategic tactic for advancement. Such individuals systematically amplify their own contribution and downplay others’, positioning themselves as the “brains” behind every team success. For example, a manager with these tendencies might present a project to senior leadership as their own achievement, omitting the fact that the original concept or the resolution of a critical problem came from a member of their team. The lack of moral constraints typical of Machiavellians, namely their willingness to deceive and exploit others for personal benefit, means they have little hesitation about appropriating colleagues’ intellectual work when they believe that “the end justifies the means.”

The third profile concerns low empathy and psychopathic tendencies. This category includes personalities marked by a pronounced lack of emotional empathy and remorse, traits often seen in individuals with psychopathic tendencies. Such employees feel little guilt when they harm others or violate rules, which makes them more prone to antisocial actions at work. Studies indicate that individuals who fall within the “Dark Triad,” narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy, are characterised by an ability to lie, mislead, and manipulate without remorse. It is therefore unsurprising that they show a greater inclination toward fraud, theft, and abuse within organisations. Research has also found that people with these dark traits are more likely to copy, falsify work, or appropriate outcomes that do not belong to them. A total lack of empathy means such individuals do not reflect on the fact that “stealing” a colleague’s idea may wrong that person or damage team morale. They see only their own benefit.

Whether idea theft will flourish or be contained within an organisation depends largely on the culture and practices promoted by leadership. Indifferent or ineffective management can, often unintentionally, allow the phenomenon to spread, whereas leadership that dares to address it directly can discourage it. According to experts, organisational culture and the norms set by management strongly shape the frequency with which idea appropriation occurs. If such behaviour is tolerated or, worse, indirectly rewarded by leadership, it becomes part of “normality” and can become so deeply embedded that it later becomes difficult to change. For example, in some highly competitive workplaces where only the final outcome matters, managers may overlook who first had the idea as long as the work gets completed. In doing so, however, they send the message that appropriating others’ work is acceptable, establishing a vicious cycle of missing recognition.

Likewise, leadership inaction or complicity leaves victims without support or voice. Many employees hesitate to report that someone “stole” their idea, especially if the perpetrator is their supervisor, for fear they will be targeted or punished for daring to claim ownership of their work. In a culture where leadership does not clearly recognise each person’s contribution, employees learn that it is pointless to complain when they are wronged. Poor management may also mean that supervisors themselves appropriate their team’s ideas. This not only constitutes direct theft of intellectual work but also creates a powerful disincentive for employees to share new proposals, because they know that in the end “the boss will take all the glory.” In other words, when leadership fails to prevent the problem, or becomes part of it, trust in the evaluation and reward system is eroded. By contrast, in organisations where leaders set an example by giving credit where it is due, idea appropriation is treated as an unacceptable deviation and is marginalised.

Idea theft is not merely an ethical lapse. It has very serious consequences for the smooth functioning and innovative capacity of a business. Since ideas and knowledge are critical resources, anything that undermines knowledge flow within an organisation can cause major harm. Researchers warn that appropriating intellectual work is a uniquely damaging form of deviant behaviour that erodes trust and employee morale, putting at risk the success of the company’s knowledge management initiatives. Put simply, when people fear their ideas will be “stolen,” they stop sharing their knowledge openly, and collaboration and innovation are blocked.

One of the most immediate effects is that victims of idea theft become cautious and protective of their work. More than half of employees who have experienced such incidents report that afterwards they avoided sharing information or knowledge, deliberately adopting silence or a defensive stance. They often choose silence in meetings, do not propose new ideas or solutions, and may even hide information and know-how, fearing that if they contribute, their authorship will be “snatched” again. These proactive defensive reactions fall under what experts call knowledge hiding and can paralyse team creativity. As Professor David Zweig describes, the experience of not receiving credit for your own idea can “burn” you and then make you unwilling to share others in the future, creating a toxic environment where information does not flow. This phenomenon “kills” the open exchange of viewpoints that is necessary for innovation, leading teams to stagnate in sterile silos rather than collaborate creatively.

At the same time, psychological safety is shaken, meaning employees’ sense that they can take risks and speak up without fear. Idea theft undermines psychological safety in two ways. First, the victim feels wronged and exposed, especially if they cannot protest. Second, everyone else observes that initiative may be punished rather than rewarded. Thus a climate forms where employees do not feel safe to share thoughts or take initiative, fearing either that their idea will be taken or that they will be labelled “difficult” if they demand recognition. This severely undermines team learning and experimentation, discouraging any behaviour beyond what is strictly prescribed.

The negative consequences do not stop there. They extend to productivity and talent retention. When employees feel that their efforts are not recognised, or worse, that others are taking them, morale drops sharply. Job satisfaction declines and many begin to disengage. They may either work less intensely, thinking “why try, since I won’t get the credit anyway,” or they may engage in retaliatory behaviours that harm team performance. Research shows that those who have been “burned” by idea theft are more likely to engage in counterproductive work behaviours, such as disparaging colleagues, refusing help, or sabotaging collaborations, in response to the injustice they experienced. In the long term, a workplace where such practices are tolerated leads to higher turnover. Capable employees, frustrated by the absence of fairness, choose to leave for healthier environments. This not only creates knowledge gaps and rehiring costs but also damages the organisation’s reputation. If it becomes known that a company does not protect creators and leaves “idea thieves” unpunished, it will struggle to attract and retain top talent. Overall, idea theft undermines innovation, lowers productivity through reduced engagement and cooperation, and destroys trust, a core component of psychological safety at work.

Given the seriousness of the issue, it is crucial that organisations take specific measures to prevent or address the appropriation of others’ intellectual work. Evidence-based practices and recommendations from studies include, first, recognising the problem and cultivating a culture of transparency. The first step is for management itself to acknowledge openly that idea theft exists and to declare zero tolerance for it. Leaders should encourage employees to speak up when they see such incidents, following the simple logic “if you see something, say something.” Creating safe channels of communication, for example anonymous reporting or open discussions in meetings, increases visibility and helps prevent cover-ups. When employees feel that management will support them if they report appropriation, they are more likely to do so, preventing the normalisation of the behaviour.

Second, there must be an emphasis on giving credit and recognition. Leaders and supervisors should actively assign credit to the right people, providing public recognition for employees’ ideas and work. As experts note, nothing kills workplace motivation more than having one’s contribution go unrecognised. Managers should therefore consciously say, for example, “this idea was proposed by team X,” or “I want to highlight A’s contribution to developing this solution.” This model of leadership accountability shapes behavioural norms and shows everyone that reward comes with a collaborative spirit and respect for intellectual authorship. Over time, such top-down behaviour reduces the likelihood that employees will hide their ideas out of fear, because they know they will receive recognition for what they contribute.

Third, a key organisational lever for change is the reward system and, in particular, favouring team rewards rather than purely individual ones. If evaluation and bonuses are based solely on individual “wins,” employees are incentivised to claim personal credit even for collective work. Experts recommend revising reward structures so that team successes and collaborative performance are rewarded. This reduces the perceived need for appropriation, because the collective outcome is shared and there is no “zero-sum game” over who gets the glory. Recent studies explicitly recommend that organisations focus more on team success than individual success in order to reduce incentives to claim exclusive recognition. In addition, when evaluations are conducted, it is helpful to request 360-degree feedback, meaning evaluation from colleagues, subordinates, and supervisors, so that it becomes clearer whether someone repeatedly absorbs others’ work or, conversely, contributes in a team-oriented way.

Fourth, documentation and idea-protection structures can be useful. Some companies adopt mechanisms to document authorship of ideas inside the organisation. For instance, an internal system may allow employees to submit new proposals with a timestamp and description. If a dispute later arises, it becomes clear who submitted the idea first. Similarly, keeping meeting minutes that record who proposed what can deter would-be thieves. While such measures do not eliminate the phenomenon on their own, they provide a level of transparency that makes appropriation harder to carry out unnoticed.

Fifth, training and role modelling matter. Organisations can invest in leadership training and awareness-building around the ethics of recognition. Managers should be trained to identify and condemn idea theft behaviours in their teams. Through seminars or workshops on psychological safety and teamwork, the value of each member and the importance of crediting ideas to the right people can be emphasised. The visibility of positive role models, for example leaders who earn respect because they always acknowledge the contributions of their teams, also works as a powerful example. Leadership should consistently demonstrate that it values originality and collaboration, not political showmanship at others’ expense.

In summary, idea theft in the workplace is a multifaceted problem. It has roots in individual characters with low ethics and high ego, but it flourishes only in environments that permit it or ignore it. Its effects are deep. It strikes innovation, erodes trust, and reduces performance. Fortunately, international research and organisational experience point the way forward. A culture of fairness and recognition, leadership that sets the right example, and structures that support cooperation are essential. With such measures, businesses can protect their most valuable asset, their people and their ideas, ensuring an environment where creativity is rewarded rather than appropriated.

Sources

  1. David Zweig et al., Journal of Knowledge Management (2025). Presentation of the concept of “knowledge theft” and findings on its prevalence.

  2. Phys.org (University of Toronto). “Stealing credit for co-workers’ ideas and work hurts a critical organizational resource” (2025).

  3. Canadian HR Reporter. “When ideas are stolen: how HR should handle ‘pervasive’ knowledge theft” (2025).

  4. Charles O’Reilly III and Bernadette Doerr. Personality and Individual Differences, Vol.154 (2020). “Conceit and deceit: Lying, cheating, and stealing among grandiose narcissists.”

  5. Cornell Chronicle. “Workplace narcissists can promote creativity but may steal the credit” (2010).

  6. Megan F. Hess. “The Fyre Fraud: Exploring the Dark Triad Personality,” Case Study (2022).

  7. LinkedIn (Subhashish Roy). “The Office Machiavellian: Why Credit-Stealing Colleagues Are Kryptonite to Your Company’s Success” (2024).

  8. AACSB Insights. “Research Roundup: My Work, Your Name, Our Breakdown” (April 2025).