One of the creepiest moments in this season of Severance is intended to be a celebration. Seth Milchick, whom we’ve primarily seen as a tormentor of our heroes in the Macrodata Refinement department, is commended by the Lumon board for stepping up as MDR’s floor manager. The Lumon board’s liaison, Natalie, appears in his office to present him with a gift: a set of paintings, famous within Lumon culture, of Lumon’s founder Kier Eagan. She tells him the paintings are “inclusively re-canonicalized… to help you see yourself in Kier.” As Milchick looks through the paintings, he sees that the images of Kier we’ve been introduced to over the course of the show have been painted over to show a Black version of the founder. Diversity win?
Upon watching Severance for the first time, the diversity of the cast seems like a progressive choice on the part of AppleTV, but not necessarily a significant plot detail. Some viewers have even wondered if the Severance characters even experience racism and sexism the way we understand it, considering the two bosses on the severed floor are Milchick, a Black man, and Ms. Cobel, a white woman. In hindsight, perhaps it was a naive assumption to think Severance’s world could be so different from our own, defined as it is by corporate capitalism.
The aim of corporate diversity efforts is precisely that of the paintings Milchick receives: for employees to see themselves in the company’s leadership. However, people from marginalized groups who are given benefits through these programs don’t always feel like satisfied innies, or even satisfied, unsevered workers. The board seems to expect Milchick to feel grateful, self-actualized, inspired to live out the values of Kier. Instead, he seems disturbed as he looks at the paintings, and when he looks at Natalie, a Black woman, for her reaction, he sees pained eyes and a tense smile.
In a later episode, Milchick tries to bring up the paintings to Natalie: “[the paintings] are a measure of appreciation, and I accept that appreciation. I was just wondering if you could share with me a little how you felt when you received the paintings.” Natalie smiles uncomfortably, but does not answer. Milchick continues: “Because I’m thinking our experiences here have been similar in some ways.” Natalie still does not speak. “We’ve faced similar challenges. And perhaps the paintings and the somewhat complicated feelings they evoke…” Milchick trails off here.
In response, Natalie just stares at him, her mouth twisting, her eyes full of what looks like fear. It must be painful to hold an expression like that for long. You get the sense she has been told to never stop smiling. Before she delivers the Board’s messages, she usually makes an expression approaching horror at their words through her ear piece, even when the message is only “the Board appreciates your work.” After a long moment of eye contact with Milchick, Natalie eventually just says “Mr. Drummond’s waiting.” Her voice is tight, and she does not seem to acknowledge anything he has said to her about the paintings. Perhaps she has been blinking in code. “Yes, of course,” says Milchick, and proceeds past her to his performance review.
It’s probably clear to most viewers what Milchick is trying to get at when he brings up the paintings: race. His interaction with Natalie is one we might have all experienced in different situations: we try to acknowledge an elephant in the room and people around us ignore it politely, as if we had farted. It especially hurts when the people brushing us off claim they’re trying to make us feel “seen” and “included.”
Let’s talk about another Lumon employee shoved into the diversity spotlight: Jame Eagan’s own heir, Helena Eagan. At first glance, she seems like an important part of the Lumon high command’s evil plans: she joins the severed floor in season one as a publicity stunt, and then acts as a mole for the Board by returning to the severed floor in season two as herself, rather than her innie, who is known as Helly R. As of season one, most of what we know of Helena is through videos: the one she sends to her innie saying she is a real person and Helly is not, and the promotional spots about her severance procedure, where she seems to be a true believer in Lumon’s values. Helena seems to be something of a poster child for Lumon’s diversity: not only will she be one of a minority of women CEOs, she will also be the first severed CEO.
Helena is enmeshed in Lumon’s power dynamics just the same as Mr. Milchick and his boss, Ms. Cobel; the Board, Drummond, and her father hold power over her, while she is in a struggle with Cobel where she tends to have the upper hand. Central to her conflicts with these people is the question of her own severance—will her innie (Helly R.) return to the severed floor after Helena is discovered impersonating her? She is pushed into submitting to further severed work by Drummond and Natalie, despite being the literal daughter of their collective boss.
What reward does Helena get for this, beyond her notoriety within and outside the company? When Helena becomes CEO of Lumon, her statue will be added to the Perpetuity Wing as part of the exhibit on all the past Lumon CEOs. This is a fairly literal analog to the paintings Milchick receives, with the difference that Helena’s image will be canonized and shown to all Lumon innies—Milchick’s paintings are for his own enjoyment only. According to some fan theorists, she might also have access to eternal life after her time as CEO is up—there are some who speculate that Jame Eagan’s mentioning of a “revolving” ceremony indicates that all the past CEOs of Lumon are uploaded into the brain of the current one. But we can’t confirm that as of now, so as far as we know it’s just the Perpetuity Wing.
Helena and Milchick are both better off than the innies, but their lives are also defined by power relations. When they slip up in their roles at Lumon, Helena is called a “fetid moppet” by her own father, and Drummond subjects Milchick to a day-long performance review. There’s an implication that things could be worse for them, were they to disappoint even further.
In one sense, the innies are actually better off than upper management—they’ve organized together for mutual benefit. In response to rebellion by the innies in season one, Lumon kicks off season two with a corporate video showing the Macrodata Refinement team as heroes who fought to bring important concerns to the Board. It calls to mind Bo Burnham’s sketch in Inside where he plays a “social brand consultant” who helps brands take stands on social issues: “I tell them, just be honest! Tell your customers that J.P. Morgan is against racism. In theory.” Lumon is certainly against the abuse of innies—in theory. They show this in the current season by taking the innies on outdoor retreats, and holding a funeral for one after his outie is fired (which effectively kills his innie). Before the funeral, another Lumon employee cautions Milchick against it: “it’ll make them feel like people,” she says. It reminded me of the scene in the same episode where Drummond tells Helena she’ll have to send her innie back down to the severed floor: “They’re like animals,” she says in protest.
Milchick and Helena are pushed into being the most fanatical, hierarchy-obsessed Lumon employees due to their isolation. If you’re put in a leadership position while at the same time there are higher expectations placed on you because of your identity, the main way to succeed (besides worker solidarity) is doubling down on the party line. It makes sense, because Lumon makes clear it has no real sympathy or concern for the well-being of its diverse employees. It summarily executes innies who step out of line, and it’s implied that even Cobel could be disposable—Helena seems to be luring Cobel back to the Lumon building at the start of season 2, only for Cobel to sense something is afoot and flee. The only way the innies got concessions was by banding together, rather than acting alone as the manager-level employees do.
At a glance, this is nothing we don’t already know: Lumon is not benevolent. They put chips in people’s heads. Lumon’s non-benevolence connects to that of companies and governments in our world. In 2020, it seemed like every company in the country was instituting policies to counteract discrimination, but this year we’ve seen many of them roll those policies back. If it becomes convenient, we can expect Lumon to do the same.
As Milchick and Helena may realize soon, power is never given; it is only taken. That might be the only thing innies understand better than outies.
