Imagine, for a moment, being on the receiving end of the sort of communication that typically heralds a change at work. An email, say, announces a reorganization to be carried out over the course of the next few months. The language is cheery and optimistic, and talks in upbeat terms about the many opportunities that will flow from the latest transformation or realignment.

The psychological effect of a missive like this, however, is less positive. Its first effect is to introduce uncertainty — what, exactly will happen, you wonder? This is coupled with a diminution in your sense of agency — you can’t control what is about to take place. As the re-org unfolds, usually over the course of several months, teams are broken up and rearranged — and this, in turn, severs your sense of belonging and your social support networks. As people are moved around, the cast of characters in the office everyday changes, too — and so the rituals which underpin daily life are upset. And as the new configuration emerges, it’s not always readily apparent where your work fits in — your sense of the value of what you do is diminished.

Each of these shifts makes it harder for people to do their jobs. The science is clear: people do best at work when their environment is predictable, when they have some sense of control over their immediate surroundings, when they are part of a stable set of relationships, when they feel connected to place and ritual, and when the point of their efforts is readily apparent to them. Seen through the lens of this research, then, constant change emerges as the enemy of performance, not its catalyst.

But that’s not how we usually think of change. We have come to believe that change is (necessarily) good, that disruption is (necessarily) the way to a better future, and that when people resist the latest new strategy or structure, that resistance is a failure to be overcome, rather than a signal of what humans need at work. As a result, when we think about change at work today, we tend to assume its inevitability and focus our attention on how to manage it — what methods and processes and technology and communication we need to put in place to have it move ahead more smoothly.

Of course, some change is necessary, and some is inevitable. But not all of it. What the scientific literature on predictability, agency, belonging, place, and meaning suggests is that before we think about managing change, we should consider the conditions that people need at work in order to be productive. We should be less eager to instigate change in our organizations, and more wary of it when outside events force our hand. And we should cultivate a renewed appreciation for the virtues of stability, together with an understanding of how to practice what I’ll call “stability management.”

To be clear, today there is no such thing as stability management. But, guided by the psychological evidence, and informed by the practices I’ve discovered that support the sorts of environments in which people can offer up their best work, we can sketch its outlines.

What is stability management?

In contrast with change management, which arrives only when a particular change is mooted, stability management — because it addresses fundamental human psychological needs that can’t be switched on and off at will — needs to be a continuous, always-on organizational discipline. It is a way of managing an environment, not a way of navigating a moment.

Stability management concerns itself with what’s working on a given day, whereas change management starts with what isn’t. Stability management elevates the need to give attention, where change management over-rotates toward feedback. And where change management focuses on the organization overall, on what will be different, and on communicating urgency, stability management focuses on local teams, on what will be constant, and on communicating reality.

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