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By:

Rahul Kulkarni

30 March 2025 at 3:32:54 pm

The Boundary Collapse

When kindness becomes micromanagement It started with a simple leave request.   “Hey, can I take Friday off? Need a personal day,” Meera messaged Rohit. Rohit replied instantly:   “Of course. All good. Just stay reachable if anything urgent comes up.”   He meant it as reassurance. But the team didn’t hear reassurance. They heard a rule.   By noon, two things had shifted inside The Workshop:   Meera felt guilty for even asking. Everyone else quietly updated their mental handbook: Leave is...

The Boundary Collapse

When kindness becomes micromanagement It started with a simple leave request.   “Hey, can I take Friday off? Need a personal day,” Meera messaged Rohit. Rohit replied instantly:   “Of course. All good. Just stay reachable if anything urgent comes up.”   He meant it as reassurance. But the team didn’t hear reassurance. They heard a rule.   By noon, two things had shifted inside The Workshop:   Meera felt guilty for even asking. Everyone else quietly updated their mental handbook: Leave is allowed… but not really. This is boundary collapse… when a leader’s good intentions unintentionally blur the limits that protect autonomy and rest. When care quietly turns into control Founders rarely intend to micromanage.   What looks like control from the outside often starts as care from the inside. “Let me help before something breaks.” “Let me stay involved so we don’t lose time.” “Loop me in… I don’t want you stressed.” Supportive tone.   Good intentions.   But one invisible truth defines workplace psychology: When power says “optional,” it never feels optional.
So when a client requested a revision, Rohit gently pinged:   “If you’re free, could you take a look?” Of course she logged in.   Of course she handled it.   And by Monday, the cultural shift was complete: Leave = location change, not a boundary.   A founder’s instinct had quietly become a system. Pattern 1: The Generous Micromanager Modern micromanagement rarely looks aggressive. It looks thoughtful :   “Let me refine this so you’re not stuck.” “I’ll review it quickly.”   “Share drafts so we stay aligned.”   Leaders believe they’re being helpful. Teams hear:   “You don’t fully trust me.” “I should check with you before finishing anything.”   “My decisions aren’t final.” Gentle micromanagement shrinks ownership faster than harsh micromanagement ever did because people can’t challenge kindness. Pattern 2: Cultural conditioning around availability In many Indian workplaces, “time off” has an unspoken footnote: Be reachable. Just in case. No one says it directly.   No one pushes back openly.   The expectation survives through habit: Leave… but monitor messages. Rest… but don’t disconnect. Recover… but stay alert. Contrast this with a global team we worked with: A designer wrote,   “I’ll be off Friday, but available if needed.” Her manager replied:   “If you’re working on your off-day, we mismanaged the workload… not the boundary.”   One conversation.   Two cultural philosophies.   Two completely different emotional outcomes.   Pattern 3: The override reflex Every founder has a version of this reflex.   Whenever Rohit sensed risk, real or imagined, he stepped in: Rewriting copy.   Adjusting a design.   Rescoping a task.   Reframing an email. Always fast.   Always polite.   Always “just helping.” But each override delivered one message:   “Your autonomy is conditional.” You own decisions…   until the founder feels uneasy.   You take initiative…   until instinct replaces delegation.   No confrontation.   No drama.   Just quiet erosion of confidence.   The family-business amplification Boundary collapse becomes extreme in family-managed companies.   We worked with one firm where four family members… founder, spouse, father, cousin… all had informal authority. Everyone cared.   Everyone meant well.   But for employees, decision-making became a maze: Strategy approved by the founder.   Aesthetics by the spouse.   Finance by the father. Tone by the cousin.   They didn’t need leadership.   They needed clarity.   Good intentions without boundaries create internal anarchy. The global contrast A European product team offered a striking counterexample.   There, the founder rarely intervened mid-stream… not because of distance, but because of design:   “If you own the decision, you own the consequences.” Decision rights were clear.   Escalation paths were explicit.   Authority didn’t shift with mood or urgency. No late-night edits.   No surprise rewrites.   No “quick checks.”   No emotional overrides. As one designer put it:   “If my boss wants to intervene, he has to call a decision review. That friction protects my autonomy.” The result:   Faster execution, higher ownership and zero emotional whiplash. Boundaries weren’t personal.   They were structural .   That difference changes everything. Why boundary collapse is so costly Its damage is not dramatic.   It’s cumulative.   People stop resting → you get presence, not energy.   People stop taking initiative → decisions freeze.   People stop trusting empowerment → autonomy becomes theatre.   People start anticipating the boss → performance becomes emotional labour.   People burn out silently → not from work, but from vigilance.   Boundary collapse doesn’t create chaos.   It creates hyper-alertness, the heaviest tax on any team. The real paradox Leaders think they’re being supportive. Teams experience supervision.   Leaders assume boundaries are obvious. Teams see boundaries as fluid. Leaders think autonomy is granted. Teams act as though autonomy can be revoked at any moment. This is the Boundary Collapse → a misunderstanding born not from intent, but from the invisible weight of power. Micromanagement today rarely looks like anger.   More often,   it looks like kindness without limits. (Rahul Kulkarni is Co-founder at PPS Consulting. He patterns the human mechanics of scaling where workplace behavior quietly shapes business outcomes. Views personal.)

Justice cannot be Weaponised

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Recently, the Supreme Court of India issued a stern warning against the increasing trend of converting civil disputes into criminal cases, often to exert pressure or gain an unfair advantage, reaffirming the fundamental principle that the law exists to protect rights and ensure justice to the people and not to be applied as a tool of harassment, intimidation or personal revenge.


The warning echoes an age-old concern in jurisprudence that justice, when used as a weapon rather than a shield, corrodes the very social contract it is meant to uphold. Across democracies, courts have had to remind litigants that law is not an instrument of vengeance but a means to restore order and balance.


Civil disagreements, particularly over money or property, are increasingly being shrouded in criminal allegations. FIRs are frequently lodged for offences such as cheating, even when the underlying matter is purely civil, with police registering complaints without preliminary investigation. Such criminalisation of private disputes transforms negotiation into intimidation, and the police into unwilling participants in private feuds.


While Section 154 of the CrPC, 1973 (Section 173 of BNSS, 2023) and the guidelines issued by the Hon’ble Supreme Court in LALITA KUMARI v. GOVT. OF U.P. AND ORS. [2013] 14 S.C.R. 713 permits FIRs for cognizable offences, police officers wary of accusations of negligence or bias, often register cases first and then leave to the courts to decide about the criminality thus inadvertently creating a parallel ecosystem of criminal proceedings along with the ongoing civil proceedings. Influential complainants exploit this loophole to intimidate or coerce the opposite party, while police officials at the ground level comply to avoid repercussions like disciplinary actions. The practice is prevalent in such a manner that the aggrieved parties have to knock the doors of the apex court for redressal.


In effect, a culture of defensive policing has taken root. Much like in America, where prosecutors sometimes ‘overcharge’ defendants to secure plea bargains, Indian police often ‘over-register’ complaints to pre-empt allegations of dereliction. The outcome is a flood of FIRs, many of dubious merit, that clog the judicial pipeline. The targets of such complaints, meanwhile must wage prolonged legal battles simply to have their names cleared. Justice delayed in such circumstances becomes justice denied.


The Hon’ble Supreme Court has time and again intervened in such matters that burdens the Court but are actually avoidable litigations by quashing FIRs and directing that the Hon’ble High Courts under Article 226 and Section 482 CrPC, 1973 (Section 528, BNSS 2023) can quash criminal proceedings when civil remedies are already being pursued, criminal proceedings cannot be utilized for arm twisting and substitute civil litigation. Misusing the criminal justice system to settle personal scores undermines its very fundamentals and threatens the very balance of separation of civil and criminal law.


The Supreme Court’s repeated admonitions reveal another uncomfortable truth which is that too many lower courts and police officials are complicit in sustaining this misuse. Despite judicial guidelines, the machinery of justice often bends to social power, money or political pressure. When the criminal process becomes a bargaining chip, the line between the complainant and the persecutor blurs.


The SC’s warning serves as a timely reminder that criminal law should address genuine wrongdoing, not serve as a guillotine to extract settlements or expedite proceedings quickly. Upholding this distinction is crucial to preserving the integrity of the legal system and protecting citizens from misuse of the law.


Historically, democracies have faltered when the coercive power of the state through its police, prosecutors or courts, has been hijacked for private ends. As the great 18th century judge-political philosopher Montesquieu warned in his classic treatise ‘The Spirit of Law’ (De l’esprit des lois), “there is no greater tyranny than that which is perpetrated under the shield of law and in the name of justice.” India, a democracy governed by an intricate web of statutory and constitutional safeguards, must take that warning seriously.


The challenge before us is not merely procedural but philosophical. When civil disputes are criminalised, the spirit of compromise, which is the lifeblood of civil law, dies.


The Supreme Court’s intervention therefore reasserts the moral hierarchy of the law. In reaffirming the boundaries between civil and criminal law, India’s judiciary is in effect defending the very architecture of its democracy. Justice must serve as a balm, not a bludgeon. The rule of law cannot endure if it becomes a means to personal ends.


(The writer is an advocate practicing before the Supreme Court of India. Views personal.)

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