When Policies Aren’t Enough: Thinking About Organisational Well-Being

I’ve just finished almost my final piece of work for the year, supporting an arts organisation to take a step back and look at how it operates on a day to day basis: policies, procedures, rhythms of work, and the often-unspoken habits that shape how people feel inside the organisation. It was framed as an operational review, but what kept circling back was something I’ve started to think of as ‘organisational well-being’.

I wasn’t there to give neat answers or prescribe solutions. Instead, my role was to offer prompts, questions and possible routes forward - things the organisation could pick up, test, argue with or discard. After many years of running an organisation myself, I know how valuable an external eye can be. But I also know that real, lasting change only sticks when people inside an organisation are prepared to look honestly at how things are actually working (or not), not just fall back on how they’re meant to work on paper. On many levels, it was hard to fault the written policies, procedures and work practices. It was more about thinking differently, and making these documents truly ‘living’ tools for effective change.

Looking more widely - so, my learning and reflections on doing this task - is just how relentless the pressure has become in the arts. More output. Shorter timescales. Fewer resources. Even where policies exist, there’s very little space to pause, reflect or evaluate. And when reflection disappears, burnout creeps in quietly - not just for individuals, but for organisations as a whole. And that is a slippery slope to mediocrity.

Through my conversations with people across different career stages and contract types, the language was strikingly similar. The details varied, but the patterns didn’t. One of the most common themes was the slow erosion of creativity. Many people entered this work because they loved being in rehearsal rooms, shaping ideas with artists, responding intuitively and playfully. But over time, the day-to-day becomes dominated by administration: budgets, spreadsheets, funding reports, emails. Creativity gets squeezed out - and when that disappears, it becomes harder to remember why they’re doing the work at all.

Alongside that sits an overwhelming sense of responsibility. Being the person who holds an activity - timelines, finances, logistics - and who feels that if you drop the ball, everything will fall apart. Then there is the feeling that when it goes well, does anyone really notice?

This points to a lack of structural care - where someone is often expected to support everyone else - artists, audiences, partners - without much thought given to who is supporting them. Safeguarding, access and wellbeing are discussed, but are they applied to everyone, evenly? This can lead to a gradual disconnection. Passion gets buried by pressure, framed within a culture that still quietly celebrates overwork. Long hours. Stress as proof of commitment.

What all of this points to is something important: burnout isn’t a personal failure. It’s not about resilience or whether someone can “cope”. Burnout is systemic. And preventing it means changing systems, not just offering well-being workshops once things have already gone wrong.

Some of the most practical shifts could be surprisingly simple: more flexible working models; clearer boundaries around time; realistic scheduling; fair pay; accessible ways of working that recognise different needs; and a cultural shift away from celebrating busyness, towards valuing breath, reflection and sustainability, and importantly encouraging peer support. Of course, all of this requires bravery, honesty and a willingness to rethink long-held assumptions and embedded ways of working. And if we don’t, we are in danger of losing skilled, passionate people in our industry, and the work, and the communities we serve, will suffer because of it.

So, if any of this resonates and it strikes a chord as you work to build healthier, more human working cultures, let’s talk. An outside eye from someone with a few decades of experience to draw on might just be useful.

Until next time.