Apple’s Severance has a unique premise that presents itself in an outlandish but entertaining manner, and while I, like many, enjoyed the masterful storytelling and acting, I also found it to be unnervingly plausible.
Created by Dan Erickson and directed by Ben Stiller and Aoife McArdle, the show takes us into an expansive subterranean office building that is minimalistic, retro, over-illuminated, and sterile. The exact setting of the show is on a floor of Lumon Industries called the “Severed floor.” On this floor, most of the employees undergo a “severance” procedure—a controversial surgery that splits their consciousness into two distinct personalities. This renders participants with a personality that exists only at work (i.e., an “innie”) and one that lives outside of it (i.e., an “outie”).
This setup lays the foundation for a philosophical exploration of personal identity, ethics, and the terrifying potential of oligarchical overreach. In this post, I’ll focus on three key aspects of Severance Season 1:
1. The nature of personal identity and how memories shape but don’t wholly define us.
2. The subjugation of the “innies” and why their existence is ethically indefensible.
3. Speculation on Lumon’s true motives and the terrifying plausibility of their endgame.
The Nature of Personal Identity
At the heart of Severance lies an eternal philosophical question—what is it that makes us who we are, especially given our ever changing aspects? The severance procedure raises this question by creating two personas—each with its own experiences, memories, and sense of self—within a single body.
The “innie” is supposed to only exist at work, with no knowledge of life outside of Lumon. The “outie,” on the other hand, lives a free life outside of work but has no memory of what happens during working hours. Both consider themselves a real self, yet they are fundamentally incomplete, defined by the boundaries imposed by severance.
While the innie and outie may differ due to their circumstances, Severance also hints at certain core aspects of identity that persist across both personas. For example, Helly’s fierce independence and defiance appear to be constants, whether as an outie, living a privileged life capable of choosing severance for ideological reasons or as an innie fighting to escape Lumon.
Similarly, Burt G.’s (Christopher Walken) sexual preference is a clear throughline across his two personas. His innie’s attraction to Irv B. (John Turturro) aligns with his outie’s established life. By contrast, there may be more to Irv’s feelings for Burt, potentially tied to unresolved emotional or familial dynamics hinted at in the finale.
These traits suggest that while the innie and outie are distinct bundles of experiences, they are not entirely divorced from one another. Their differences highlight the impact of environment and memory, but their similarities remind us that identity may include immutable threads that transcend circumstance.
Despite their shared origins, the innies and outies also diverge in ways that can be surprising. Mark’s outie is grieving his wife’s death and uses severance as an escape, while his innie is initially more cheerful and engaged—until cracks in the system awaken his defiance. These variations underscore the interplay of memory, environment, and circumstance in shaping identity.
• Bundle Theory of Personal Identity:
The show aligns well with the bundle theory of personal identity, famously proposed by David Hume. According to this theory, the self is not a singular, unchanging essence but a collection of perceptions, memories, and experiences that are constantly in flux. The innies and outies are not entirely separate entities, nor are they unified—they are bundles of traits and memories, shaped by their unique environments and constraints. This duality creates two identities that are unique yet similar, emphasizing that personal identity is both fluid and contextual.
The Subjugation of the Innies
While Lumon markets severance as a choice—something that outies willingly undergo—the show makes it abundantly clear that the innies are subjugated. Their existence raises profound ethical concerns:
• Autonomy. Innies have no freedom. They cannot quit, retire, or even apply for other jobs within Lumon. Their entire existence is confined to the workplace, and their labor benefits only their outies and Lumon itself.
• Compensation. Unlike traditional employment, innies receive no true compensation for their labor. Instead, they are placated with trivial rewards and hollow praise, underscoring their dehumanized role as tools rather than individuals. While some innies, like Irving, appear content, deriving meaning from the perceived importance of their work, or Dylan, who takes pride in receiving trinkets and perks, these meager tokens only emphasize the extent of their conditioning. Such shallow rewards cannot justify their subjugation—they merely reveal the mechanisms Lumon uses to maintain control over its severed employees.
• Consent. While outies technically consent to the severance procedure, the innies have no voice in their creation or the conditions of their existence. This raises a profound ethical question—can one aspect of a person justifiably impose a life of servitude on another? Outies either believe they can or have failed to consider the full implications of their decision. The show, however, leaves no ambiguity—the decision to severe is unequivocally a decision to subjugate. Innies lack freedom, agency, and meaningful compensation. The innies’ existence is not just restricted—it is an enslavement, designed to benefit their outies and Lumon at the expense of their humanity.
The Terrifying Vision of Lumon
As the season unfolds, the true purpose of Lumon remains shrouded in mystery, but its vision of the future is deeply unsettling.
The various departments within Lumon engage in strange and seemingly pointless tasks. Mark’s team, for example, spends their days “refining” numbers on a screen based on vague feelings of dread. These tasks appear to be more about reinforcing the founders’ philosophy than producing anything of tangible value.
Ultimately, we come to learn that the severance procedure itself is Lumon’s true product. By the finale, it seems clear that the company’s ultimate goal seems to be the global proliferation of severance, creating a world where every individual can be compartmentalized and controlled.
I propose that Lumon’s vision is nothing less than global domination through the proliferation of the Eagan family philosophy. By severing individuals and programming their “work selves” with the founders’ ideals, the company could control the thoughts and actions of entire populations.
This dystopian vision is made all the more terrifying by its plausibility. We live in a time when billionaires openly espouse half-baked ideas they believe to be revolutionary. Lumon’s plan mirrors real-world tech fantasies, such as Elon Musk’s Neuralink, which promises brain-machine interfaces but raises serious concerns about privacy and control. The prospect of a company like Lumon or Neuralink to exploit such technologies at the expense of human lives—both in terms or mortality and quality of life—is frighteningly plausible.
Conclusion: A Frighteningly Plausible Dystopia
Severance Season 1 is more than just a gripping sci-fi thriller—it’s a philosophical exploration of personal identity, ethics, and the powerful’s ability to overreach. By examining the fragmented identities of the innies and outies, the show raises timeless questions about what makes us who we are.
At the same time, it offers a chilling warning about the dangers of unchecked power and technological advancement. Lumon’s vision of a severed world is terrifying because it feels close to real. As we stand on the brink of new technologies that promise to reshape our lives, Severance reminds us to approach these developments with skepticism and caution. Above all, we must consider what it means to be human and what it might take to retain our dignity in a world increasingly erasing the very aspects that make us unique in exchange for productivity, profit margins, engagement, and superficial thinking.
In the end, Severance isn’t just about the horrors of a fictional corporate dystopia—it’s a reflection of our own world and the choices we face as we move into an uncertain future.
I am eagerly awaiting Season 2 to see where Season 1’s high-stakes finale takes us.
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