When the scapegoat leaves the building

If you’ve ever been scapegoated in your workplace, you know how disorienting it is. You were the one naming the dysfunction. The one asking the hard questions. The one raising red flags when no one else dared. You even told your colleagues what you knew deep down:

“I’ve never seen a toxic boss get pushed out anywhere, forget Brussels. It’s always the person who spoke up who ends up leaving.”

And you were right. Because instead of being seen as someone bringing true competence, someone offering longer-term solutions to a struggling industry or cause, you were cast as the problem. Subtly sidelined. Then openly blamed. Eventually pushed out.

And everyone watched — silently. Some cried. Some got in touch to say something nice. Some stayed in touch. Many, still suffering.

Because in this town, speaking up comes with consequences. And it’s easier to protect the institution, the leader, the “project”, than to protect the person telling the truth.

In Brussels, where policy prestige masks toxic behaviour, scapegoating thrives. The culture rewards charm over care. Control over competence. The more senior the title, the harder it becomes to name what’s really going on, especially when the dysfunction hides behind perfectly worded statements and smiling LinkedIn posts.

What no one tells you is that scapegoating isn’t personal. It’s systemic. It’s what broken cultures do to protect themselves. µ

And once the scapegoat is gone? The dysfunction doesn’t disappear. It just finds a new target. Or finally becomes too obvious to ignore.

To the colleagues still in those teams, still enabling the behaviour:

You may think you’re protecting your career. But every time we choose silence over solidarity. Every time we prioritise status over safety. Make no mistake: this is affecting you, too.

To the industry, the organisations, the leaders who’ve looked the other way when policy people charismatically bully. Who reward sharp suits, sharp comms, and sharp elbows, while scapegoating the ones asking for care, clarity, or accountability —we see you.

You defend the SVP. You ignore the damage. You talk about values in your global headquarters and stay silent when they’re violated in Brussels. This makes our teams more brittle. Our institutions more fragile. And Europe’s future a little less credible.

Toxic leadership isn’t just a workplace issue. It’s a talent drain. A policy risk.

And a reputational liability the EU policymaking space keeps taking.

And finally, if this is — or was — your story, let me say this:

It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t imagining it. And it gets better. Healing doesn’t start when the apology comes. It starts when you stop waiting for it. When you realise you were never too sensitive, too difficult, or too much.

You were just telling the truth too early for the people around you to handle. You will find work and people where you don’t have to explain your worth or beg for basic respect. It might take time. It might shake your confidence. But the tunnel does end. And the light at the end of it is real.

So know this:

You’re not alone. Sooooo many of us have walked this road, quietly.

But now, we’re starting to speak up.