The Panopticon: A Blueprint for Efficient PowerTo understand the underlying power dynamics of the modern open office, one must first turn to an 18th-century design for an "ideal" prison.
The Panopticon, conceived by the English philosopher and social theorist
Jeremy Bentham in 1785, was a revolutionary blueprint for a social control mechanism designed to achieve maximum discipline with minimum effort.
14 Its genius lay not in brute force but in the psychological manipulation of its subjects through architecture.
The physical layout of the Panopticon is deceptively simple: a circular building, or rotunda, composed of a perimeter ring of cells, with a central inspection tower at its core.
14 Each cell extends through the full thickness of the building and has two windows: one on the outer wall to allow daylight to pass through, and another on the inner wall facing the central tower. This design ensures that every inmate is constantly backlit, silhouetted, and perfectly visible to an observer in the tower.
14 The tower itself, however, is fitted with blinds or other contrivances that prevent the inmates from seeing inside. They can see the tower, the physical locus of power, but they can never know if, or when, an inspector is actually watching them.
14This architectural arrangement creates a profound asymmetry of vision, what the philosopher
Michel Foucault would later term the "see/being seen dyad".
21 The inmate is in a state of "conscious and permanent visibility," always seen but never seeing the observer.
21 The psychological effect is the engine of the entire system. Because the inmate cannot know when they are being watched, they must assume they are always being watched.
18 This perpetual uncertainty compels the inmate to internalize the disciplinary gaze of the authority figure and regulate their own behavior accordingly. Power becomes automatic, continuous, and incredibly economical.
14 The need for guards to actively police behavior diminishes, as the prisoners become their own jailers, disciplining themselves out of the constant possibility of being observed. Bentham described his invention as a "new mode of obtaining power of mind over mind, in a quantity hitherto without example," a "mill for grinding rogues honest".
16Crucially, Bentham's vision for the Panopticon was never limited to prisons. He saw it as a "polyvalent" tool, a universal diagram of power applicable to any institution where a group of individuals needed to be managed and have a specific behavior imposed upon them.
26 He explicitly named hospitals, schools, asylums, and, most tellingly for this analysis, factories and "industry-house establishments" as ideal candidates for the panoptic principle.
18 This reveals that from its very inception, the concept was fundamentally linked not just to punishment but to the efficient ordering of human multiplicities for productive ends. The application of panoptic principles to the workplace is therefore not a modern perversion of Bentham's idea but a direct fulfillment of its original, far-reaching intent to create disciplined and useful subjects.
Foucault's Panopticism: The Diffusion of Discipline into SocietyTwo centuries after Bentham, the French philosopher Michel Foucault resurrected the Panopticon in his seminal 1975 work,
Discipline and Punish. Foucault expanded the concept from a mere architectural blueprint into a powerful metaphor for the pervasive and insidious nature of disciplinary power in modern society.
14 For Foucault, the principles of the Panopticon had escaped the confines of the prison and "swarmed" throughout the social body, forming the underlying logic of control in institutions like schools, hospitals, the military, and the workplace.
24 The goal of this "panopticism" is the creation of what Foucault called "docile and useful bodies"—individuals who are productive, compliant, and predictable.
The core of Foucault's analysis lies in the process of internalization and normalization. In a panoptic society, individuals become acutely aware of the constant possibility of being observed and judged against a set of norms. This leads them to internalize the authoritative gaze and begin to police their own thoughts and behaviors to conform to these perceived standards.
14 The classic example is a driver who stops at a red light in the middle of the night, even when no other cars or police are present.
14 The law is obeyed not because of the immediate threat of punishment, but because the authority of the law has been inscribed within the individual, who now self-regulates. This process of "normalization" creates compliant subjects who conform without the need for constant, overt coercion.
26Furthermore, Foucault argued that in the panoptic system, power is not something possessed by a specific individual (like a king or a warden) but is a function of the "machine" itself. The architecture automates and disembodies power, making it a pervasive, network-like force. Everyone within the system, both the observed and the observers, becomes a part of the mechanism, simultaneously subjected to and transmitting its effects.
26 The panoptic machine is a "laboratory of power," a place where behaviors can be observed, experimented upon, and modified to increase the utility of individuals while ensuring their docility.
24This understanding of power reveals a critical historical paradox that Foucault famously articulated: "The Enlightenment, which invented the liberties, also invented the disciplines".
24 This insight is indispensable for analyzing the modern workplace. Contemporary corporate culture, particularly within the technology and creative sectors, loudly espouses the Enlightenment values of freedom, autonomy, creativity, and self-expression. Yet, these are often the very organizations that most fervently adopt open-plan offices and sophisticated digital surveillance tools—the modern "disciplines." The open office can thus be seen as a physical manifestation of this Enlightenment paradox: an architecture that publicly champions openness, transparency, and liberty while covertly executing a highly effective disciplinary program based on observation and normalization.
A Brief History of the Workspace: The Ideology Embedded in DesignThe design of the office has never been a neutral act of arranging furniture. It is, and always has been, an active instrument of management philosophy, a physical manifestation of an organization's beliefs about power, productivity, and the nature of the worker.
30 Tracing its evolution reveals a consistent pattern: managerial goals of efficiency and control are the primary drivers, while the language used to justify the designs adapts to the prevailing cultural ethos.
The story of the modern open office begins in the early 20th century, an era dominated by the principles of "
scientific management" championed by
Frederick Taylor. Architect
Frank Lloyd Wright's
Larkin Administration Building (1906) and his iconic
SC Johnson Headquarters (1939) are celebrated as pioneering open plans.
1 These spaces, with their vast "Great Workrooms," were designed to maximize efficiency and communication, mirroring the logic of a factory floor.
30 Rows of clerks worked at desks in large, communal areas under the watchful eyes of managers who often occupied private offices along the perimeter, physically entrenching the organizational hierarchy.
34 Wright himself saw dividing walls as "fascist" constructs, but his open designs were readily adapted by corporations focused on regimented productivity.
5The dehumanizing, factory-like nature of these early open plans eventually sparked a backlash in the mid-20th century. In the 1960s, two distinct reactions emerged. In Europe, the
Bürolandschaft ("office landscaping") movement introduced more organic, free-form layouts, using plants and furniture to create informal zones that encouraged a more socially democratic mode of interaction.
30 In the United States, designer
Robert Propst of
Herman Miller, after studying how people actually worked, developed the "
Action Office".
36 His goal was to liberate the knowledge worker from the rigid open plan by providing a system of flexible, modular components, including variable-height desks and semi-private partitions, that could be adapted to individual needs and tasks.
36Propst's humanistic vision, however, was quickly co-opted. Corporations seized upon the modular panels of his Action Office II not to empower workers, but as a cheap and efficient way to cram more employees into less square footage.
5 This gave rise to the monotonous and isolating "cubicle farm" of the 1980s, a design that Propst himself came to lament as "monolithic insanity".
36The pendulum swung back with the dawn of the digital age in the 1990s and 2000s. Driven by the rise of tech giants like Google and Facebook, the miniaturization of computers, and the advent of mobile technology, the open plan made a triumphant return.
5 This time, however, it was rebranded with the aspirational language of the new economy. The language of "efficiency" and "oversight" was replaced with talk of "collaboration," "transparency," "community," and the "breaking down of hierarchies".
1 This historical arc makes it clear that while the rhetoric changes, the underlying drive for cost-effective control remains a constant. The modern narrative of collaboration often serves as a palatable euphemism for the original, and still primary, organizational goals of economic efficiency and managerial oversight.