The Oak Within Us – Why We Defend Ourselves and How True Openness Emerges
There are moments in life when we realize: we’re overreacting. Someone criticizes us—and it feels like an attack. Someone disagrees—and we immediately want to argue. Someone looks skeptical—and a monologue of self-justification begins inside us.
Objectively speaking, nothing dramatic has happened. And yet something inside us reacts as if our very existence were at stake.
Perhaps that’s because part of us still reacts like a sapling. A young oak sapling has two small leaves. A wild boar, a kick, a dry summer—and it’s gone. Its vigilance is existentially justified. But if this sapling survives, it grows. Over the years, it becomes an oak tree. And yet, many of us still carry the sapling’s state of alertness within us—even though we have long since developed sturdy trunks.
Defensiveness isn’t a flaw—it’s a defense mechanism
Many modern models describe different facets of the same phenomenon.
Carol Dweck talks about the fixed mindset: When identity is tied to competence, criticism becomes a threat.
In Radical Collaboration, Jim Tamm describes how quickly people become defensive as soon as they feel attacked.
Brené Brown shows that shame lies behind many defensive reactions—the fear of “not being enough.”
From a neurobiological perspective, our limbic system reacts faster than our conscious mind. It doesn’t check whether the threat is real—only whether it feels familiar. And social rejection was indeed dangerous in our evolutionary history. Belonging meant survival.
The problem arises when our system reacts to broken arms as if they were contagious. When we defend situations that objectively no longer pose an existential threat. Then the mechanism no longer protects us—it harms us.
The internal security architecture
Maturity does not mean no longer having defense mechanisms. It means that our sense of security changes.
A child needs external protection. An adult can develop inner resilience. In attachment research, this is referred to as “earned secure attachment”—an acquired inner sense of security. People who develop this sense of security no longer experience criticism as a threat to their identity, but as information. They feel emotions, but they are not overwhelmed by them.
It’s like a vaccination. The threat doesn’t disappear from the world. But the system knows it can handle it.
Openness does not arise from moral effort. It arises when our nervous system experiences safety. Stephen Porges’ polyvagal theory describes how social safety puts the body into a state in which cooperation becomes possible. Without safety, there is no dialogue. Without dialogue, there is no collaboration.
Vulnerability is not weakness—it is controlled strength
Vulnerability does not mean invulnerability. When a loved one dies, it will shake us to the core—no matter how “mature” we are. That is real pain.
What we’re talking about here is social pain that we inflict on one another because old defense mechanisms kick in. In organizations, this manifests as power struggles, stubbornness, blame-shifting, or withdrawal. Not because people are bad, but because they feel insecure inside.
Many people—consciously or unconsciously—hold the belief: “I’m not enough.” So they put on roles. Masks of competence. Masks of dominance. Masks of perfection. The illusion of an oak tree is meant to provide security. But masks are exhausting. They drain energy. And they prevent genuine connection.
True strength is quieter. It doesn’t need to prove itself. It knows its limits without becoming aggressive. It can say, “I’m insecure here”—without falling apart.
Context trumps character
Openness is not merely an individual trait. It is also a product of the system.
Through her concept of psychological safety, Amy Edmondson demonstrates that teams learn when mistakes can be addressed without fear. In toxic environments, even self-reflective people become defensive. In safe environments, even insecure people become more courageous.
Maturity, then, is not just a personal journey. It is also a matter of design. How do we structure organizations to reduce unnecessary threats? How do we decouple status from being right? How do we reward learning instead of winning?
This brings us full circle to organizational architecture: When structures intensify competition and the fear of losing face, defensiveness increases. When structures promote transparency, shared responsibility, and a sense of purpose, defensiveness decreases. Openness is then no longer just a call to action, but a likely reality.
More freedom of movement under pressure
Perhaps maturity is best described as an increase in inner freedom in the face of social pressure.
Not immunity. Not perfection. But the ability to choose.
The sapling reacts reflexively.
The oak feels the wind—and stands firm.
We are all both at times. And that’s okay. Growth doesn’t mean never feeling insecure again. It means recognizing more quickly when old patterns are speaking—and remembering that we have long since grown beyond them.
Openness is not a permanent state. It is a regulated state. And the more stable our inner security architecture becomes, the less often we need to defend ourselves. Not because the world is harmless. But because we are stronger than we think.
And perhaps true collaboration begins right there: not in the attempt to be perfect, but in the courage to stop pretending we are still more fragile than we have long since become.
Literaturverzeichnis
Brown, B. (2012). Daring Greatly.
Dweck, C. (2006). Mindset: The New Psychology of Success.
Edmondson, A. (2018). The Fearless Organization.
Porges, S. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory.
Tamm, J., & Luyet, R. (2005). Radical Collaboration.
Siegel, D. (2012). The Developing Mind.
Neff, K. (2011). Self-Compassion.
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