By Claire Michelle
In debates about workplace disengagement, one profile is almost always overlooked. We talk about employees who quietly withdraw, younger generations who reject performance culture, and workers exhausted by chronic overload — but we rarely mention the middle manager. From team leader to department head, this is the most unenviable position in the entire hierarchy: high enough to carry strategic decisions that can feel disconnected from reality, low enough to absorb the operational backlash — it is the link that is called on last and broken first.
Caught in the middle, the middle manager carries an emotional and organisational burden that no one has ever formalised or rewarded in annual reviews. Yet this role is the organisation’s fulcrum. When this “midfield” disengages, it is not just one position that starts to wobble, but an entire layer of the organisation that collapses, taking with it the transmission belt of value.
The statistical verdict is unequivocal. According to the Gallup 2025 report, the deterioration in wellbeing among middle managers is alarming: the satisfaction index falls by 5 points among managers under 35, and by 7 points among women in managerial roles. While overall employee engagement across Europe remains stuck at a weak 13%, it is the middle management line that is eroding most rapidly. The Observatory of Quality of Working Life (QVCT) confirms this divide: 43% of middle managers report burnout, compared with 37% of senior executives. This significant gap points to a structural reality: the most damaging burden is not carried by those who arbitrate strategy, but by those who must absorb the shockwaves while managing, on the front line, the spillover effects on their teams.
To understand why middle managers are so vulnerable to disengagement, one must break down the three imperatives that shape their day. The middle manager is the operational translator of strategy. They receive a decision from leadership — a reorganisation, a budget cut, a shift in priorities — and must make it acceptable, even desirable, for their teams. This translation work is exhausting because it is not always sincere: the manager is often themselves at odds with the decision they must defend. They then become the interpreter of a message they do not believe in, speaking to an audience that knows them well enough to detect their discomfort. At the same time, the manager must protect their teams: absorbing pressure from above so employees can work with some peace of mind. This is the so-called “shock absorber” role — an unwritten, unpaid, unrecognised function. The problem is that a shock absorber absorbs impact by deforming. After a certain number of hits, it gives way. The third imperative is the most commonplace and perhaps the most toxic: deliver the targets. Whether headcount has been reduced, training budgets have been frozen, or two key employees are on sick leave, the targets do not move. This mismatch between available resources and expected outcomes is one of the main sources of this “organisational dissonance.”
What makes managerial disengagement even more insidious is that it does not resemble that of an ordinary employee. The disengaged manager does not switch off their computer at 5 p.m. They continue to show up, to run meetings, to file reports. But they lose what researchers call affective commitment — that discretionary energy that turns a good manager into a real leader. They become a surface manager: they manage processes, but they no longer energise people, and their teams sense it before they even acknowledge it themselves. And this managerial presenteeism is doubly costly because it blocks the role (preventing recruitment or promotion) and subtly spreads a message of resignation around them.
Managerial disengagement is not the result of an individual resilience deficit, but of a structural problem that neither stress management nor meditation can solve. To re-engage managers sustainably, they must first be given genuine room to manoeuvre: the ability to adjust targets to the context, allocate resources, and make decisions without systematic approval. In Romandy SMEs, this delegation should be facilitated by the proximity between management and the front line, yet it remains surprisingly rare. It is equally essential to create legitimate spaces for discussion where managers can voice their difficulties and frustrations without being seen as incompetent. Finally, the invisible work of the middle manager must be recognised. This role of emotional and organisational absorption, essential to day-to-day functioning, is neither assessed nor valued. Making it visible in annual reviews, job descriptions or remuneration systems could be a powerful act of recognition.
Ultimately, the question Romandy SME leaders should ask is not “How do we keep our managers motivated?” It is: have we created the conditions for a manager to be proud of their role? If the answer is no, then managerial disengagement is not a surprise but rather the logical consequence of a poorly configured system.
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