Article by Roberto Calderone, holder of a Master’s degree in History and Forms of Visual Arts, Performing Arts, and New Media.
Member of the ISTUD team.
“Spiritual: that which is immaterial, free from material substance, belonging to the sphere of the spirit.”
— Dictionary definition, Treccani
Is there spirituality in ants?
In the queen that produces infinite lives, in the worker that digs tunnels, gathers food, and takes care of the eggs, or in the soldier that defends the perfect industry-company that is the anthill?
Ethologists, philosophers, and theologians could certainly debate this for hours without reaching a truth demonstrable beyond reasonable doubt.
What is “instinct,” what is a “design of God,” and what is “animal morality” (assuming there is any real difference between these three dimensions)?
Perhaps, in their functioning, ants are driven by a radically different logic from ours: they are creatures devoid of ego and of any perspective of individual gain, entirely oriented toward a collective goal and the survival of the species. This total self-abnegation in favor of the group has made them among the oldest creatures on Earth, demonstrating extraordinary evolutionary effectiveness and an admirable capacity to withstand time and adversity. Yet one might wonder whether, in their “thinking”—as primitive as it is complex—there exists some form of gratification, satisfaction, or pride derived from the contribution they make to the collective, or whether, in certain sporadic and brief moments, they also engage in selfish choices—selfishness which, at times, can even be healthy.
If, even when observing an anthill, we might question the presence of some form of spirituality and ethical values, the question becomes even more fascinating when we turn our gaze to human beings and the organizations they build. Companies, after all, are not merely economic structures; they are communities of people who collaborate, compete, make decisions, take responsibility, face conflicts, and pursue common goals. They are places where choices are made daily that cannot be explained solely through efficiency, profit, or convenience.
When a worker decides to help a colleague without obtaining any personal advantage, when a manager chooses transparency instead of shortcuts, when an organization renounces an immediate benefit in order to remain consistent with its principles… we enter a dimension that seems to go beyond mere utilitarian calculation.
But what drives a person to act in this way? Why dedicate energy, skills, and sometimes even sacrifices to a collective project without immediate, tangible, or economic reward? Various factors may certainly play a role: the desire to contribute to something greater than oneself, a sense of duty, identification with a mission, the search for belonging, or the will to leave a positive imprint on the surrounding reality.
We may call them motivation, vocation, vision, responsibility, or sense of purpose, and perhaps they are not separate dimensions but different manifestations of a single human tension toward meaning.
Philosophical speculation aside, ants build the anthill, as far as we know, without questioning their condition or purpose; human beings, instead, are called to reflect on the meaning of their actions. One may perform the same role out of self-interest, necessity, or convenience, but one may also choose to attribute to it a value that transcends simple personal gain. Here emerges what we might call “spirit”: not necessarily something religious, but rather the way in which each person inhabits their role, interprets their responsibilities, and orients their actions. Not so much the “what I do,” but the “why” and the “how” I do it.
Spirituality is likely not a single motivation, but arises precisely from the intertwining of all these dimensions. It is the capacity to recognize that one’s work, relationships, and contribution can take on a meaning that goes beyond immediate utility. In this perspective, even the most ordinary action can acquire further depth, as it is placed within a broader vision of oneself, of others, and of the community to which one belongs.
Modern companies, moreover, devote great attention to defining their values. Integrity, respect, trust, responsibility, inclusion, care for people, sustainability: words that appear in codes of ethics, sustainability reports, employer branding campaigns, and mission statements. An intangible heritage that can represent a source of enrichment not so much in economic terms, but in terms of the health and well-being of the organizational psychosocial system—provided that values are not reduced to mere slogans used to grease bureaucratic mechanisms or maintain appearances.
A corporate value, clearly, cannot be authentic if it remains a unilateral declaration. To truly exist, it must be shared and embodied by both sides of the relationship: by the organization and by the people who choose to be part of it.
Inclusion, for example, is not only the company’s commitment to welcoming and respecting each individual in their uniqueness; it also requires, on the worker’s side, openness to encounter, adaptability, and the ability to recognize and respect differences in others. Likewise, trust presupposes mutual reliability; responsibility implies commitment both from the organization and the individual; respect cannot be demanded without being practiced in return.
Values, therefore, are not goods distributed by the company to its employees, but relational spaces that take shape through reciprocal behaviors. They cease to be simple declarations and become shared practices, creating something that goes beyond the contractual dimension of work. They generate meaning.
And it is precisely in this shared production of meaning that we can identify a possible expression of spirituality within corporate values: that immaterial component that orients people toward meanings, purposes, and principles that transcend mere individual interest.
When a value is truly shared and practiced, it generates a form of profit different from the economic one: an immaterial profit, difficult to measure with accounting indicators but perceptible in the quality of relationships, in the sense of belonging, in mutual trust, in group cohesion, and in the ability to face difficulties together. This results in what we might call eudaimonic capital, that is, the set of relational, value-based, and organizational conditions that foster human flourishing and, through it, the well-being of the corporate community. It is an invisible form of wealth that does not appear in financial statements, but contributes to the vitality and health of the organization—and which indirectly also enhances effectiveness and efficiency, especially in the long term.