SPOILER ALERT: This article contains spoilers for Severance.
Every once in a while, films or TV series appear in pop culture that tackle serious philosophical topics. They go beyond pop philosophy, trivial questions, and pseudo-problems, and address specific issues. Years ago, Lynch's Twin Peaks was such a series, followed by Lars von Trier's dark The Kingdom, Marc Munden's Utopia, and Black Mirror, but none of these series were as steeped in philosophical themes as Apple's Severance, which is essentially one big seminar on the philosophy of mind, ethics, political philosophy, and social philosophy. On top of that, it became one of the most popular series of the first half of 2025.
The World of Severance
I do not want to delve into the intricate plot of Severance, point out possible hypotheses, or speculate about who is who and what their motives are.
This is fascinating in itself, but there are already plenty of such analyses online. Nevertheless, readers who do not know the series should at least have a vague idea of what this Apple TV production is about. Somewhere, apparently in the future (when this takes place is not entirely clear), somewhere in the United States, there is a company called Lumon, known for its innovative and controversial severance process. Some of its employees can undergo a procedure that divides them into two modes: their private self, the “outie,” and their work alter ego, the “innie.”
Neither remembers the experiences of the other. The idea is that this allows people to disconnect from work, free themselves from thinking about tasks after hours, and, quite importantly, reduce suffering. It allows them to effectively forget everything that is happening and experienced by the other part of their split personality, especially the difficult emotions that this personality experiences. In this way, they maintain what appears to be a work/life balance. It is in these circumstances that we meet Mark S's team; Mark underwent the severance procedure after seeking solace following the death of his wife.
The series opens with Helly R. joining the team. Since she “came into existence” as an “innie” for the first time, we observe, in a way, the process of her birth and adaptation to her new environment. Together with the team, she adapts to her new reality. Apart from Helly and Mark, the data refinement team also includes Irving and Dylan—and each of them has different motives for deciding to undergo severance. Together, they work on a vague task of refining microdata. Lumon itself is a corporation involved in the biotechnology industry, but, as it quickly turns out, it is more of a parareligious organization. It reveres its founder, Kier Eagan, who started the company.
From the very first season, episode after episode, increasingly strange aspects of Lumon's activities are revealed. Mark and his team visit other departments whose activities seem just as pointless as theirs, such as the "Mammal Breeding Department.” As events unfold, conflict within Lumon and the team begins to escalate when Mark discovers that his former colleague and supervisor, Petey, wanted to contact him outside of work, suggesting that the two personalities, the “innie” and the “outie,” may be merging. That is enough of a summary of the series; further philosophical analysis will contain spoilers.
Hypercapitalist Dystopia
The magic of Severance lies in the fact that it can be interpreted on many levels. The simplest and most obvious is a satire on corporations, which is undoubtedly true. Severance is a much stranger and more disturbing version of The Office, as it mercilessly points out the absurdities of working in large corporations that demand specific attitudes from their employees. Except that it does so even more strongly, emphasizing the absurdity and ridiculousness of the situation. We have everything: fruit days, special pseudo-privileges, the need to participate in ridiculous team-building exercises—such as the "Field Integration and Recreation Event.”
Moreover, Lumon's demands are growing; it is not just that the severed are required to lose their personalities. Natalie, who is a liaison for the invisible management, is like a zombie who dispenses information like a robot. Mr. Milchick is forced to change his style and is berated by evaluation reports that ridicule him, in which, for example, he is negatively assessed for how badly he signs documents. There are many similar situations, but even at this level, the first philosophical problems can be seen. The first of these is the issue of Marxist alienation from work. Mark's team at Lumon is alienated not only from their work but also from themselves as employees. We are dealing here with a double alienation.
All the “attractions” at work, such as “Waffle Parties” or visits to the wellness counselor, are meant to humanize this inhuman work. They are like religion in Marx's interpretation—the gold from which the shackles are made. However, this does not change the fact that they are completely cut off from the product of their work. In the context of the actual task facing Mark, this is all the more paradoxical. In the end, it turns out that Mark's team is working on the Cold Harbor project, which is actually a project to remove his wife's identity from her body. De facto, Mark is complicit in the murder of his wife through the work he does. At the same time, he is completely alienated from her true fate.
This theme can be considered more broadly—corporate employees perform tasks that seemingly have no impact on other people or themselves; they do not see the actual fruits of their labor, but in reality, they contribute to the destruction of reality (a viewer with a more left-wing sensibility might say that this is a perfect diagnosis of the current system of work). In the storyline involving Mark and Gemma, this is simply condensed. But the theme of aggressive capitalism is only one aspect of Severance.
Lumon's control over its employees goes beyond the workplace. The “outies” are surveilled by Lumon employees, and Mark's immediate superior, Cobel (as Mrs. Selvig), lives next door to him. It is impossible not to notice echoes of Michel Foucault and his concept of universal surveillance from Discipline and Punish. Mark and his team are subject to surveillance not only during working hours but also outside of them. In this respect, the division between “innies” and “outies” is blurred. It is worth noting that this in itself contradicts the ideal of work/life balance. It is a dystopian vision in which work is everything. As a side note, it should be added that the “innies” exist in a perpetual hell of work. Their lives are de facto slavery; they do not know daylight, the essence of their existence is eternal productivity, and in their own way, they become ideal employees. The essence of their lives is continuous, uninterrupted work. They become perfect employees, or at least so it seems, completely alienated.
Paradoxically, through severance, the employee (as an "outie") gains the right to the fruits of their labor. It is also worth noting the environment in which Lumon is located. The company is located in an ice-covered land by a lake—like the Lake Cocytus in the ninth circle of Dante's Inferno, where traitors end up. The aesthetics of the entire series, both inside and outside the company, is centered around blue colors that balance on the edge of coldness and distance. The entire world of Severance is actually a world alien to humans, an inhospitable place. But let's get back to the religious aspect.
Religion
Marx pointed out how religions influence the work ethic, that they are used to increase productivity. And we find this theme in Severance. Lumon is a parareligious company that worships its founder, Kier Eagan, who is revered as a messiah (one is tempted to say like Steve Jobs at Apple). The rituals created within the company are meant to be—again, referring to Marx—opium for the people, so that they can survive at work.
Those who are severed undergo a procedure in which the “outies,” as in Huxley's Brave New World, are stripped of their worries and live a life of pure pleasure (though this is debatable for Mark), while the “innies” are destined for hard work. At the same time, it is reasonable to ask what Lumon wants, and what Kier Eagan wanted before them. It seems—and we learn this from Cobel's storylines and the events during the team-building exercises—that it is about the mystical dimension of Lumon's creation and the storylines of Kier Eagan himself and his alleged brother Diter (or the animal part of his personality).
It is important to note that the entire story of the team-building event was one of the elements intended to awaken a parareligious passion in Lumon's employees. Ultimately, however, it does not come to fruition as intended.
A Different Kind of Revolution
If you consider both the first and second seasons of the series, an interesting pattern emerges. Lumon employees, even if they only know the world within the company, rebel.
In the first season, Mark's team's coordinated action led to a rebellion, during which their “innie” consciousnesses were briefly active in the outside world. Then Helly R. (the “innie”) is revealed to be Helena Eagan, daughter of Lumon's CEO Jame Eagan. She was intended to publicly endorse severance as the ideal solution. However, when her “innie” persona is active in the outside world, she instead reveals the harsh realities of the severance procedure.
In the second season, the revolution also stems from the rebellion of the severed employees, although the initiative is slightly different. It results from Mark's actions, but these are a consequence of the fact that during the finale of the first season, as an “innie,” he found himself in his sister's house and discovered some surprising facts. Among them, that Ms. Casey (the wellness counselor) is actually his wife, Gemma. The search for the truth about what happened to his wife is one of the main motives for Mark's actions in the second season. However, these motives are at odds with those of his other self.
Boundaries—Ethics
Lumon's severance process tests the limits of ethics. Is it ethical to perform such an invasive procedure on oneself? Severance, although it seems like an attractive solution that allows one to cut oneself off from negative experiences, is in fact a brutal act of self-harm in the long run. In this context, the discussion really touches on many dimensions. Firstly, is it acceptable for a company to intervene so deeply in people's lives, and can a person intervene in themselves to such an extent? By creating an alter ego, we condemn not only ourselves but also them (the “innies”) to eternal work and suffering. The whole way in which “innies” are treated is deeply unethical and at the same time opens up a new topic in bioethics.
To what extent can we consciously use ourselves for work, and do the requirements imposed by corporations exceed the limits of humanity? The rebellion of the “innies” in the first season paved the way for them to be treated more humanely, or at least for the company's management to see that they are not just robots. To this end, they not only implement further “life improvements” for the Severed, but even want to translate Mark's brother-in-law Ricken Hale's book, The You You Are, which is actually a collection of pseudo-motivational nonsense. The theme of forcing oneself to do things appears in the motivations of one of the characters. Dylan's “outie,” who perhaps sees himself as a failure, wants to condemn his “innie” to working in a corporation—he is taking revenge. It is just not clear on whom—himself or someone else. In the world outside Lumon, Dylan's “outie” may consider himself a failure frustrated with his life, and when his “innie” wants to quit, the “outie” blocks the process.
This is just one of the ethical issues that arise. The second is the question of betrayal. In Lumon, Mark's “innie” begins a relationship with Helly R. Formally, Mark (as an “outie”) is still grieving his deceased wife. Is unconscious betrayal still betrayal?
But at the same time, there is another aspect related to Burt, Irving's friend from work. He wants to find salvation in the severance procedure. He implies he has sinned a lot in his life and, by undergoing the severance procedure, he hopes to save his soul, or at least find peace for his “innie.” This in itself is an extremely interesting thesis, according to which the soul (or moral accountability) is dependent on consciousness.
When Are We?
The second series of questions that arise directly from the series Severance deals with the question of identity in time. Who are the “outies” and the “innies”? Are they the same person? If the determinant is the identity of the same body, then yes. After all, how does the process of severance differ from sleep, in this limited respect? But what if the condition for identity in time is not having the same body, but having the same memories, the same consciousness, or some other indicator based on mental perspective? The issue of identity difference, the dispute between “innie” and “outie,” was summed up very well in a scene from the last episode of the second season. Mark's “outie” tried to convince Mark's “innie” to release Gemma.
The problem, however, is that Mark's “innie” has objections and begins to ask a legitimate question: if he integrates, will he disappear?
Would he lose himself? Mark from inside Lumon (the “innie”) does not want to lose himself, because he has his own goals and desires, separate from what Mark from outside (the “outie”) wants. Mark's “innie” fell in love with Helly R., while Mark's “outie” wants to save his wife Gemma, whom, from the perspective of the Cold Harbor project, his “innie” was unknowingly tasked with effectively erasing. It seems that severance reveals their true personalities, or perhaps creates distinct ones. The “innies” are much more primitive or instinctual—at least in some cases. This is true of Dylan, whose “innie,” unlike his “outie” self (as far as we know), is brave, combative, and determined, and Helly R., who is actually the daughter of Jame Eagan, the CEO of Lumon, one of the most important people in the company. It is difficult to say exactly what her “innie’s” intended role at Lumon was, except that she was definitely supposed to be a proponent of severance, though some speculate she was also there to spy on the team, and above all on Mark. However, this is not important—what is important is that she is completely different from her “outie.” Helly's “outie” (Helena Eagan) is determined, ruthless, and manipulative—she is a product of Lumon, a person seemingly devoid of empathy for her “innie.”
Meanwhile, Helly R. (the “innie”) is like her natural, childish, naive, but also likable version. And a legitimate question arises: when is Helly really herself? Is she even one person? In her case, the differences are so great that it seems natural to perceive her as two completely different people.
Who Are We?
Finally, we come to the topic that is at the heart of the entire philosophical problem of the series. To the philosophy of mind, which plays an important role in Severance, and the questions asked not only by the viewers but also by the characters themselves are almost taken straight from a seminar on identity and the ontology of the mind. In philosophy, we have several answers to the question of who we are. Animalism, advocated by Peter van Inwagen, among others, says that we are material beings “constituted by” organisms. A person is made up of the same matter as a given organism, but at the same time, the conditions of its existence are different—to put it bluntly, a person has a narrower scope of existence than an organism, which simply lasts longer.
Another view, known from the writings of Derek Parfit, among others, says that we are (or our personal identity consists in) psychological continuity, not necessarily tied to a specific spatial part of an organism like the brain, though the brain is its typical seat. Finally, there is the view that we are immaterial substances—perhaps this is the soul, as Descartes and Leibniz believed, or beings that are the result of the combination of the soul and the biological organism, as Richard Swinburne wrote.
According to the information provided in the series, the severance process consists of a mechanical procedure—the insertion of a chip that separates personalities. Technically, this resembles a lobotomy in its physical intervention, which extinguishes certain areas or connections, but here it physically creates a different situation, namely a controllable separation of the self. This self can be switched at will by passing through the appropriate triggers, such as the "severed floor" elevators. In Lumon's case, these are elevators or specific doorways. The document mentions Gemma being split not into one but into twenty-four people, each with a different function, potentially triggered by different environments, like a dentist's office. Mark undergoes this procedure along with his entire team: Irving, Helly, and Dylan, as well as other Lumon employees—Burt, Petey, and Ms. Casey (aka Gemma, Mark S's wife). Each of them presents a different attitude, different motivations, and a completely different ethical problem. First of all, since we are dealing with a chip, we are dealing with a mechanical division of the mind; ergo, we can immediately abandon any notions of a Cartesian division between soul and body—but are we sure? In a simple and naive Cartesian division—yes.
It seems—and we can safely refer to naturalistic concepts here—that the mind is a product based on the biological dimension.
The topic of mind separation has been present in the philosophy of mind for a long time, in a slightly different form (concerning the division into two hemispheres). In a thought experiment popular in philosophical discussions, the question arises: if the left and right hemispheres of the brain are transplanted into two different skulls and each of them is psychologically continuous, are we dealing with the same person? There are many answers to this question. One answer is to recognize that we are dealing with multiple occupancy—and that we actually have two people, not one. This view has been advocated by David Lewis and John Perry, among others.
The second view, advocated by Sydney Shoemaker, Derek Parfit, and Peter Unger, is that in such a case, personal identity does not survive fission (i.e., such separation could be considered a form of death for the original person). According to this view, a person might survive if one of their hemispheres survived (as them), but if the separation results in two equally viable candidates, the original identity might cease. Perhaps this is not exactly the view we have in Severance, but it is very similar. The severance procedure does not create a new body but creates a new person (or distinct stream of consciousness) in the body. And the question posed by Mark's “innie” during the discussion is legitimate: will I exist when the reintegration procedure takes place? After all, I existed for a much shorter time—what about my personality?
Who Is Real?
The question of identity therefore, raises the question: who is real? Looking at it from Derek Parfit's perspective, we arrive at an interesting problem. Let us recall: Parfit argued that numerical identity (being one and the same particular thing over time) is not what matters for survival—what matters is psychological continuity and connectedness (Relation R).
Severance turns this on its head, as numerical identity (of the body) is preserved, but at the same time psychological continuity is deliberately broken, or rather branched. This leads to the question: how are we to understand identity under such conditions? It seems that the creators are putting forward certain theses here.
Cold Harbor
In the finale of the second season, the mystery of what data refinement and the Cold Harbor project are is solved. Gemma, Mark's wife, undergoes a procedure of multiple severance, as a result of which she is to lose her original identity. She is divided into many versions of Gemma, each of whom is to experience different emotions—her specific incarnations, for example, only function in a dentist's office. Her former personality is to be extracted from her body, which is to become an empty shell. The question of what the purpose of the whole project is remains open and is a matter of speculation regarding the plot, but at the same time, it is a statement about the philosophy of the mind.
Because if Gemma can be “cleaned,” then the question arises: who is she? This question is especially raised in the context of the finale. One answer would be hard materialism—Gemma exists as long as her brain functions in a certain way. But the question is, what is the data that Mark and his team are deleting? From the plot we know that these are particles of Gemma's soul or consciousness, which he recognizes. That is why he is crucial to the whole project—because only he can truly “wipe” Gemma.
It seems that the closest we can get here is the concept presented by David Chalmers with his property dualism, according to which mental properties (like consciousness) are irreducible to physical properties of the brain. This dualism seems to be confirmed in the finale itself, in which he saves Gemma from ultimate reduction. Mark's act of saving Gemma, in itself, seems to transcend the material realm and is at the same time the failure of the Cold Harbor project. Months of work were wasted by Mark's intrusion. There was something immaterial about his intervention—as if from another order.
Severance and Us
The series Severance is, of course, a dystopia in which an as yet unattainable means of severing people is used. But at the same time, the questions it raises are entirely legitimate. What does Severance leave us with?
It leaves us with a prodigious pile of philosophical questions—both about our condition as humans and about the world we live in right now, plus about the world we will live in the future.
On the one hand, these are purely economic issues—the limits of capitalism and its interference in our lives, but on the other hand, questions about who we are and what the consequences of such actions are.
