Two Takes on Toxicity
Michaela Emch and myself been thinking partners for a while now, reflecting on biomimicry, ecotones, innovation, and relationships more generally. A while back, I had been reflecting on the concept of toxicity. I likes to think about stuff that is generally framed as “bad” and wondering “What does this actually do?”. The result was a first piece that I shared with Michaela. “Oh, this kind of holds together”, thought Michaela, “and resonates with the way nature works”. The result: this proposal and response form, offering two takes on toxicity. Enjoy the read.
On toxicity - Take 1
It’s a common social game: name your spirit animal. Mine is the Platypus. It’s a creature in between, half-otter, half-duck. It’s cute, playful, furry. And, as I like to add, it’s also venomous.
Toxicity comes with a bad rep. Nobody likes a toxic colleague, a toxic boss, or a toxic ex. Yet the metaphor invites deeper thinking. Nature tends to select things for their function. It takes resources to produce venoms and poisons. Surely, those things are not without value.
What is toxicity then? If we look at nature, two different aspects call for attention.
First come the snakes and scorpions, box jellyfish, death cap mushrooms and poison ivy: animals, plants and fungi that produce harmful substances for defensive or predatory purposes.
Second is the realm of pollution, from microplastics to nuclear waste via lead, sulfur and mercury. Whether they stem from natural or human causes, certain substances in certain concentrations can make an area radically hostile to most life forms. Or, they enter the food chain and cause various levels of harm as they concentrate. As an associated phenomenon, we may consider natural substances that, in some quantities at least, are harmful to certain organisms: chocolate for dogs, potatoes for livestock, and all sorts of molecules produced by plants, yeast, fungi and bacteria for us humans, including our beloved alcohol.
The Caduceus, often a symbol of medicine, associates the snake to the art of healing. It’s a well-known paradox that poison differs from drugs mainly by dosage. Nothing is toxic absolutely, though some substances can only be tolerated by most living beings at very small levels. What’s more, not all toxins accumulate indefinitely: some can be filtered out, allowing a high intake as long as the pace is moderate. In certain cases, it’s even possible to build gradual immunity.
Let’s go back to the metaphor. Some will defend toxic behaviours and cultures around the workplace in the name of Darwinian selection. Hazing as a test of worth, or demonic deadlines and targets to build a winning team. In learning environments, like preparatory classes and other groups training for competitive exams, that same logic applies. In a more optimistic variation, toxic behaviour prepares people for “the world out there”. It builds immunity. In other cases still, toxic behaviour has a different source. It’s not about collective logic, but adaptive attempts for individual survival. Poison released opportunistically or under threat, as a trauma response, or as a consequence of ruthless mentorship.
No matter where it stems from, harmful behaviour in organisations is also the result of governance decisions. A group chooses to promote or tolerate toxicity. Rooting it out is not impossible, but it may be costly. In most settings, therefore, we accept a small level of it.
What fairness and caution call for is not a blanket elimination of toxicity, let alone scapegoating campaigns to root out “toxic people”. Rather, it’s lifting taboos and describing reality. Making sure warnings are issued, and taken seriously. Teaching the art of holding back, encouraging boundary keeping, and putting systems in place to filter out the worst of it.
Now if we wanted to be radical, we could take this one step further. We could try to become aware of our own personal toxic potential, so that we can derive a sense of strength and confidence from it. Then, we could use it to gain stronger positions in closed-off settings, and use it as a bargaining chip to negotiate less harmful conditions for everyone. So we can all enjoy our cute, playful, furry selves.
I will let you discern, based on your context, whether you’re in a position to try it out, where and when, against whom, and with what results.
Lessons from Nature on Toxicity
As I read Julien’s piece, I immediately thought of a school paper my daughter just handed in on poison, ricin in particular. A fascinating choice: this deadly toxin, extracted from castor beans, is entirely natural. It is versatile and efficient, but can be fatal in excessive doses. It neatly contradicts the comforting myth that what comes from nature must be good for us. As Julien reminds us, everything is in the dose.
That reflection sent me back to the way biology handles toxicity: not as a moral failure – nature holds no morals – but as a function. Here are a few insights from functional biology that echo his provocation and open up new ways to think about dealing with toxicity in our systems and the ones that surround and encompass us.
Functional Biology Insights
Venom as a precision tool In nature, producing venom is expensive in terms of energy use. Snakes, scorpions, insects, plants, fungi, and even Julien’s spirit animal, the platypus, use it only when necessary. It’s not aggression, it’s efficiency: strike once, and with precision. Perhaps our own sharp responses could serve a similar purpose when consciously used, not scattered indiscriminately.
Coevolution and tolerance Prey species often evolve partial resistance to toxins, forcing predators to adapt in turn. It’s a dynamic balance and an evolutionary arms race happening in small increments and responses. Organizations evolve in similar ways, through small doses of difficulty that push them to adapt.
Natural detox systems Wetlands, fungi, and bacteria transform toxins into nutrients. Ecosystems don’t erase harm, they recycle it. Healthy workplaces could learn to metabolize conflict instead of suppressing it.
“Hormesis”: the power of small doses Mild stressors, for example, sunlight and a short-term rise in temperature, can strengthen living systems’ response to toxins. Tension and critique, in the right measure, can build robustness and depth.
Warning signals and honest boundaries Toxic species display bright colors to say: « I am unpalatable » Setting clear boundaries is our human equivalent. It prevents escalation before damage occurs.
We can therefore ask ourselves…
When does protection become aggression?
What is our organisational metabolism? How do we process and transform tension?
Could we cultivate selective immunity through small, intentional exposure to challenge?
What are our detox agents ? And do we value their quiet work of restoring balance?
How can we use our own venom wisely : as a tool for clarity and fairness rather than harm?
What are our warning colours, the clear signals that mark our limits before toxicity seeps in?
In nature, toxicity isn’t an anomaly. It’s part of a larger balancing act, a way for life to protect, communicate, and adapt. Maybe, in our teams and communities, we can learn to do the same: acknowledge our venom, understand its purpose, and use it sparingly.