In the absence of meaningful narrative, we may find ourselves replacing it with chaos.
Illustration © 2026 AdventureLAB
In boardrooms, design studios, and conference halls, “story” leans towards becoming an ubiquitous buzzword, a shiny tool used to sell products, build brands, drive agendas or attract audiences. We agree we need the story, emotional connection, and resonance. However, to truly understand why, we need to dive deeper and stop to ask: What happens when the narrative is missing?
A wise man once said that if you really want to understand how much you mean to someone, simply imagine what would happen if you were suddenly gone. To understand the profound weight of storytelling, we must look at the void left in its absence. When the narrative is twisted, warped, or stripped away, we don’t just lose a plotline; we lose the humanity at its centre.
Whether in the glow of a cinema screen or the sterile light of a clinic, the loss of narrative is a loss of agency. What happens beneath the surface when the stories we tell, and the stories we live, begin to unravel?
Entertainment
In the world of entertainment, narrative is too often pushed into the back seat to make way for flashy effects and visceral spectacle. We’ve all experienced it: the blockbuster that leaves you feeling empty by the time the credits roll. The location-based experience without anything beneath the surface. It doesn’t stick because there is no connection beyond the immediate sensory experience.
When we prioritise the “what” over the “why,” we strip the audience of their presence. The experiences that truly grow within us are those driven by character-driven narratives; stories that allow us to see ourselves reflected in the struggle. When characters are warped into caricatures or plot points, the audience is driven away. Without a meaningful narrative to anchor the experience, entertainment becomes a fleeting distraction rather than a memorable or even transformative event.
When we prioritise the “what” over the “why,” we strip the audience of their presence.
Heritage
When we look at our history and cultural heritage, a similar void often emerges. When the story is missing from history, it becomes impossible for those outside the scholarly inner circle to relate to it. The figures of the past cease to be people and instead become part of a flat tapestry or static objects in a museum case.
Without a narrative that makes them beings with hopes, dreams, and fears, we cannot see them as persons. They become historical facts rather than once-living individuals. This detachment means we lose our empathy for them; we become numb to the impact of the good they achieved or the suffering they experienced. When we strip the human narrative from our heritage, we don’t just lose the past. We lose the ability to learn from the heartbeat of those who came before us.
Leadership
We are often presented with books and masterclasses on storytelling for leadership, but there is a distinct difference between brand speak and authentic narrative. An organisation is more than its mission statement; it is a living history.
When a leader shares a narrative that is authentic in content and context, they offer something more than a corporate script. They offer a place of belonging. For a team to be sustainable and loyal, its members must feel they are part of the narrative. If the organisation’s story doesn’t align with yours – or worse, doesn’t allow you to influence it – the connection dissolves. A community or an organisation without the chance to influence its own story becomes an empty shell. You might be physically present, but you don’t belong.
Society
In communities where the social system is failing, or where poverty and neglect have hollowed out the sense of pride, the narrative doesn’t just disappear; it warps. When a person feels like “just a number in line,” a process of dehumanisation begins.
In the book Asylums, Erving Goffman (1) described institutional breakdown, in which the structures around individuals systematically dismantle their identities. In these voids, we see a terrifying psychological shift. If you are not allowed to be the hero of your own life, and if you are denied agency and control, you may choose to become the villain simply to regain a sense of identity.
If you are not allowed to be the hero of your own life, and if you are denied agency and control, you may choose to become the villain simply to regain a sense of identity
In Stephen Karpman’s work on The Drama Triangle (2), roles shift among Victim, Rescuer, and Persecutor (or the Villain). In a society where people feel unseen, becoming the monster or the tyrant is a protest against being overlooked. It is a way to say, “I am here, and you will fear me if you do not see me.” This is the Chaos Narrative (3), a state where the coherence of life is so shattered that constructive cooperation becomes impossible.
In Karpman’s Drama Triangle, roles shift among Victim, Rescuer, and Persecutor.
Illustration © 2026 AdventureLAB
Healthcare
Perhaps nowhere is the loss of narrative more violent than in the healthcare system. Before a diagnosis, you have a life narrative you most likely control, albeit perhaps less than you would like.
But the moment you enter the system with a diagnosis, that narrative is often taken out of your hands.
You cease to be “Sarah” or “John” and become “the patient in bed 47” or the diagnosis of your disease. This objectification leads to a profound loss of agency. When you become your diagnosis, you lose your will to fight. This is why the approach of “Narrative Competence” – the caregiver’s ability to acknowledge and be moved by the patient’s story – is so vital (4). In a Danish context, this has been further explored in detail through research and the implementation of these practices in clinical settings (5), as well as through the acknowledgement of the role of narrative in healing. In the USA, innovation specialists Stratos Innovation Group (6) have applied personal experiential narratives in their work with the healthcare industry, adding human insight and professional empathy on multiple levels of design.
To move away from a purely technical approach and toward person-centred care, we can use tools that re-humanise the experience:
The Parallel Chart: A reflexive space where clinicians write about their own feelings and hypotheses regarding the patient’s inner life, separate from the clinical record. (4)
Externalisation: A technique that separates the person from the problem. Instead of “I am a chronic pain patient,” the narrative shifts to “The pain is taking up a lot of space today.” This slight linguistic shift returns agency to the individual. (7)
The Cost of Silence
When we fail to recognise the narrative of the “difficult patient,” the “struggling employee,” or the “at-risk youth,” we lose them. We lose them to apathy, to anger, and eventually, to total disconnection. Social workers, teachers, and doctors are often stuck in survival mode, stacking numbers because their own professional narratives have been stripped away by bureaucracy and politics.
However, we must always remember: a person without agency in their living story becomes a person without a future in their own mind. That is the real impact of the absence of narrative.
Nurturing the Meaningful Narrative
So, are we all just lost in a void when the narratives are missing? Absolutely not! Insight is the key to influencing the positive. Look at the spaces you inhabit. It may be your workplace, your community, or your family. Ask yourself: Where is the story missing? Who has been reduced to a number? Who has lost the ability to influence their own narrative? Taking action starts with listening – truly listening – to the story beneath the data. And if you are creating a work of fiction or a themed experience, you will need to adopt the same mindset to populate a believable world with characters people care about.
Ask yourself: Where is the story missing? Who has been reduced to a number? Who has lost the ability to influence their own narrative?
For those who can take control of the story and the experience in any sector, it is imperative to become guardians and nurturers of the meaningful narrative. Because when it is lost, we lose the very thing that makes us human.
Notes and References
1. Goffman, E. (1961). Asylums: Essays on the Social Situation of Mental Patients and Other Inmates. Link to Archive.org
2. As described in Karpman, S. (1968). Fairy Tales and Script Drama Analysis.
3. Frank, A. W. (1995). The Wounded Storyteller: Body, Illness, and Ethics. Link to University of Chicago Press
4. As proposed in Charon, R. (2006). Narrative Medicine: Honoring the Stories of Illness.
5. Further explored in Rasmussen, A. J. (2017). Narrativ Medicin. is further explored in Narrativ Medicin, Anders J. Rasmussen
6. https://www.thestratosgroup.com
7. Detailed in the book White, M., & Epston, D. (1990). Narrative Means to Therapeutic Ends.
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