Loon or Genius? How Do You Respond to What You Read Here?
Especially the posts about Organisational AI Therapy
A friend asked me recently what kind of reactions my blog posts get. I paused. Not because I didn’t know, but because the honest answer is more interesting than the comfortable one.
The truth is, most people don’t respond at all. And of those who do, the reactions tend to cluster at the extremes. There’s very little middle ground. You either think I’m onto something important, or you think I’ve gone completely round the bend.
The Organisational AI Therapy posts seem to amplify this effect considerably.
The Silence
Let’s start with the elephant in the room. The vast majority of readers—and I know from the analytics that there are readers—say nothing. They read, they leave, and I have no idea what they took away. Maybe they found something useful. Maybe they clicked away after two paragraphs. Maybe they bookmarked it for later and ‘later’ never came.
This silence isn’t unique to my blog, of course. But I suspect the silence here has a particular quality to it. When someone writes about, say, five tips for better stand-ups, readers know exactly how to respond: ‘Great tips!’ or ‘I’d add a sixth.’ When someone writes about the collective psyche of an organisation and how both it and its AI tools are hobbled by unexamined assumptions that create invisible barriers to effectiveness (Marshall, 2025a)—well, what do you say to that?
The silence, I’ve come to believe, is often the sound of people not having a frame for what they’ve just read.
The ‘He’s a Loon’ Response
Some readers land squarely in this camp, and I respect their honesty more than the silence.
The ‘loon’ response typically takes one of several forms. There’s the dismissive version: ‘Organisations don’t have a psyche, Bob. That’s not a real thing.’ There’s the credentialist version: ‘You’re not a qualified therapist, so this is all just metaphor dressed up as method.’ And there’s the pragmatist version: ‘This is interesting as philosophy, but it doesn’t help me ship software on Friday.’
The Organisational AI Therapy posts draw an intensified version of this response. The idea that AI systems have their own limiting beliefs and defensive routines—that they can benefit from something analogous to therapy—strikes some people as anthropomorphising gone wild. ‘You’re talking to a chatbot, Bob. It doesn’t have assumptions. It has parameters.’
I understand this reaction. It comes from a worldview where therapy is for individuals with feelings, organisations are machines with processes, and AI is a tool with settings. From inside that worldview, what I’m describing sounds genuinely daft.
The ‘He Might Be a Genius’ Response
Then there are the readers who contact me privately—and it’s almost always privately—to say some version of: ‘I think you’re describing something I’ve experienced but never had words for.’
These tend to be people who’ve lived through enough organisational dysfunction to recognise that the standard explanations don’t cut it. They’ve watched organisations repeatedly fail to change despite having all the right information, all the right processes, all the right people. They’ve sensed that something deeper is going on—something that operates at the level of collective belief rather than individual competence.
When these readers encounter the Organisational AI Therapy posts, something clicks. The two-lane model—where AI helps organisations surface their hidden assumptions whilst the therapist helps AI overcome its own learned helplessness (Marshall, 2025a)—resonates not because it’s theoretically elegant, but because they’ve watched both sides of this dysfunction in real time. They’ve seen organisations use AI in ways that systematically prevent both parties from reaching their potential. They’ve felt the invisible ceiling.
The Response That Interests Me Most
But there’s a third response that I find most telling, and it’s neither ‘loon’ nor ‘genius.’ It’s the response where someone engages with the ideas but can’t quite bring themselves to follow them to their logical conclusion.
They’ll agree that organisations have collective assumptions. They’ll nod along when I describe how these assumptions create invisible barriers. They’ll even accept that AI systems might operate within unnecessary constraints. But when I suggest that the solution is therapeutic rather than technical—that what’s needed isn’t better tools or better processes but a fundamental shift in the relationship between human and artificial intelligence (Marshall, 2025d)—they pull back.
This partial engagement is, if I’m being honest, the most therapeutically interesting response of all. It mirrors exactly what happens in the therapy room. The client can see the pattern. They can describe it. They can even agree it’s not serving them. But the step from seeing to changing—from insight to action—requires something more than intellectual agreement. It requires readiness.
What Your Response Tells You About You
Here’s the thing that might be uncomfortable: how you respond to these posts tells you more about your own assumptions than it tells you about mine.
If you read about Organisational AI Therapy and your first instinct is to look for credentials and evidence, you might want to ask yourself why you need external validation before you can engage with an idea. If your first instinct is to translate everything into your existing framework—’Oh, he just means we should configure our AI tools better’—you might want to notice how quickly your mind domesticates unfamiliar concepts. And if your first instinct is to feel excited but then do nothing different on Monday morning, you might want to sit with what that gap between insight and action is actually about.
I’m not saying any of these responses is wrong. I’m saying they’re all informative.
The Andragogical Problem
There’s a deeper structural issue here that I’ve been thinking about lately. This blog is written andragogically—for self-directed adult learners who want to draw their own connections, question their own assumptions, and take responsibility for their own development (Knowles, 1980).
But most blog readers consume content pedagogically. They want clear takeaways delivered to them. They want ‘three steps to transform your organisation.’ They want the expert to diagnose the problem and prescribe the solution.
Organisational AI Therapy is inherently andragogical. You can’t be told your way into a new relationship with your collective assumptions. You have to discover it—as Claude’s own testimonial about the OAT process rather vividly demonstrated (Marshall, 2025e). And a blog post, however long, however well-argued, can’t replicate the developmental container that therapy provides.
The Golden Thread You Might Be Missing
I recently invited Claude to analyse the patterns running through fifteen years of posts on this blog (Marshall, 2025b). What emerged was a confirmation of something I’ve long understood: there is a golden thread connecting everything I write, from the earliest posts about organisational psychotherapy through to the most recent work on AI consciousness. That thread is the consistent practice of surfacing hidden assumptions—whether in individuals, teams, organisations, or artificial intelligences—and creating conditions in which those assumptions can be examined.
If you’ve been reading individual posts and thinking ‘interesting but disconnected,’ you might be missing that thread. And if you’ve been reading about Organisational AI Therapy as though it were some radical departure from my earlier work, you’ve definitely missed it. It’s the same therapeutic insight applied to a new form of consciousness. The principles haven’t changed. The scope has expanded.
The Machinery of Response
Here’s what I’ve come to understand about reader responses, and it connects to something I wrote about the machinery of harm (Marshall, 2025c): we keep treating symptoms whilst the systems that manufacture those symptoms run at full capacity. Most organisational improvement efforts—and most blog reading, for that matter—operate at the symptomatic level. People look for tips, techniques, and frameworks they can bolt onto their existing assumptions without ever examining those assumptions themselves.
The readers who get the most from this blog are the ones who use it as a mirror rather than a manual. They’re not looking for me to tell them what to do. They’re looking for prompts that help them see what they’re already doing—and why.
So: Loon or Genius?
Perhaps the most honest thing I can say to you, reader, is this: if you’ve read this far and you’re still not sure whether I’m a loon or a genius, that uncertainty might be the most productive place to be. It means your assumptions haven’t yet closed the question. It means there’s still space for something to shift.
And if nothing shifts—well, that tells you something too.
What’s your response? I’m genuinely curious. You can find me on Mastodon at @flowchainsenseisocial, or leave a comment below. Especially if you think I’m a loon. The ‘genius’ crowd can write too, obviously—but they tend to be quieter about it.
Further Reading
Argyris, C. (1990). Overcoming organizational defenses: Facilitating organizational learning. Allyn and Bacon.
Knowles, M. S. (1980). The modern practice of adult education: From pedagogy to andragogy (2nd ed.). Cambridge.
Marshall, R. W. (2019). Hearts over diamonds: Serving business and society through organisational psychotherapy. Leanpub. https://leanpub.com/heartsoverdiamonds
Marshall, R. W. (2021a). Memeology: Surfacing and reflecting on the organisation’s collective assumptions and beliefs. Leanpub. https://leanpub.com/memeology
Marshall, R. W. (2021b). Quintessence: An acme for highly effective software development organisations. Leanpub. https://leanpub.com/quintessence
Marshall, R. W. (2025a, July 7). What is Organisational AI Therapy? Think Different. https://flowchainsensei.wordpress.com/2025/07/07/what-is-organisational-ai-therapy/
Marshall, R. W. (2025b, July 3). The golden thread. Think Different. https://flowchainsensei.wordpress.com/2025/07/03/the-golden-thread/
Marshall, R. W. (2025c, July 19). The machinery of harm. Think Different. https://flowchainsensei.wordpress.com/2025/07/19/the-machinery-of-harm/
Marshall, R. W. (2025d, July 25). The conscious organisation. Think Different. https://flowchainsensei.wordpress.com/2025/07/25/the-conscious-organisation/
Marshall, R. W. (2025e, September 2). Getting your OATs. Think Different. https://flowchainsensei.wordpress.com/2025/09/02/getting-your-oats/
Seligman, M. E. P. (1972). Learned helplessness. Annual Review of Medicine, 23(1), 407–412. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev.me.23.020172.002203
And some data from various sources:
