Internal vs External Locus of Control: The Difference Between Reacting and Responding

Two years ago I had what I’d call a “come to Jesus” moment, and in hindsight, it was my first real encounter with internal vs external locus of control in a way that actually meant something.

It was sitting alone on the side of the Zambezi, finally calm for the first time in months, when I realised this was no longer something I had to carry. After 19 years of navigating visa constraints, limited options, and a constant sense that something external was dictating what I could and couldn’t do, it had finally come through. And the first thought that hit me was simple: “This isn’t something I need to carry anymore.”

What I didn’t expect was how complicated that would feel. There was relief, there was gratitude, and then there was a strange, creeping pressure – like someone had just removed the training wheels and replaced them with a note that said, “You’re an adult now, sort it out.” The constraint was gone, which meant I no longer had something external to point to when things didn’t work out.

For years, I became someone who played it safe. I flew under the radar like I was part of a witness protection programme no one had formally explained to me. I avoided getting too excited about roles I really wanted because I knew how the story usually ended. After enough final-round interviews collapsed at the exact moment the visa question appeared – like a horror movie villain who only shows up in the last five minutes – I stopped letting myself get too hopeful. Hope started to feel like buying lottery tickets with a calculator.

I didn’t realise it at the time, but what had shifted wasn’t just my situation – it was my sense of control. And that’s where internal vs external locus of control starts to matter in a very real way.

Internal vs External Locus of Control in Practice

At any given time, we operate somewhere between two ends of a spectrum.

External locus of control is where life feels like it’s happening to you. Outcomes sit in the hands of other people, systems, or circumstances, and your role becomes one of observation with occasional commentary. Planning feels like writing a strategy for a ship you’re not actually allowed to steer, but you’re still somehow responsible if it hits an iceberg.

Internal locus of control is where you believe your actions can influence outcomes. You may not control everything, but you’re actively looking for ways to move things forward, even if it’s just turning the wheel slightly instead of dramatically announcing the end is near.

Most of us move between the two depending on the situation. For me, my career sat heavily on the external side for a long time. And while there were real constraints, what I didn’t fully appreciate was how much I had adapted to them – not just practically, but psychologically. I had built a version of myself that expected things to fall apart at the final hurdle, like a series finale written by someone who clearly resented the audience.

When the constraint disappeared, the shift wasn’t just operational. It was existential.

Why We Default to External Locus of Control

It’s easy to say “just take ownership.” It’s also the kind of advice usually delivered by someone who has had eight hours of sleep, three green juices, and absolutely no idea what your week looks like.

Under pressure, most of us don’t become more proactive, we become more reactive. And there’s a reason for that. We’re constantly balancing two systems: the rational part of us that wants to plan, act, and solve, and the emotional part that wants safety, certainty, and ideally a biscuit.

When things get overwhelming, the emotional system takes over and starts making decisions like a raccoon that’s just discovered caffeine and a keyboard. One of the fastest ways to reduce cognitive load in that moment is to assume: “This isn’t in my control.”

If you’ve ever wondered why that happens, I unpack it more in my blog on change psychology: Change Management Psychology. The short version is that under pressure, your system isn’t trying to be effective – it’s trying to be safe. So this isn’t laziness.

It’s efficiency.

A slightly tragic form of efficiency, like deciding not to cook because the fridge feels emotionally overwhelming.

But it comes at a cost. Because the moment you fully buy into that narrative, you stop scanning for options, stop designing solutions, and stop taking action. You move from being an active participant in your own life to a passive observer, and observers are famously terrible at changing outcomes.

The Organisational Impact of Locus of Control

Here’s where this gets uncomfortable.

One of the primary drivers of burnout is a perceived lack of control – feeling like you have no autonomy, no influence, and no real say in how things unfold. That means an external locus of control isn’t just frustrating, it’s corrosive. It quietly drains energy, motivation, and the will to do anything beyond the absolute minimum required to remain technically employed.

And more often than not, this isn’t something individuals create on their own. Organisations are remarkably good at manufacturing external locus of control at scale. Constantly shifting priorities, unclear decision-making, responsibility without authority, and feedback loops that lag behind reality all teach people the same thing: your actions don’t really move the needle.

I once worked in a global business where “global economics” was the explanation for almost everything. Revenue down? Global economics. Targets missed? Global economics. Someone forgot to attach the file? Give it five minutes, we’ll find a way to link it back.

Now, was it true? Often. Was it useful? Not even slightly. Because what was missing was the follow-up question: “What can we still influence?”

Over time, the team learned something important. When things went wrong, the answer already existed, and it lived somewhere out there in the big, uncontrollable universe. And so, without anyone saying it explicitly, accountability quietly packed its bags, left a note, and moved to Portugal.

Leaders create external locus of control whenever they explain outcomes through external forces but fail to anchor people in what can still be influenced internally.

If everything is external, nothing is actionable.

At its core, this isn’t about control. It’s about whether life is holding you back – or you’ve started doing it for it.

Looking back now, that moment on the Zambezi wasn’t just relief. It was the realisation that I’d spent half my life trying to fit into a box that didn’t fit me, and once that constraint was gone, I didn’t quite know what to do with the space. The situation had changed overnight, but my thinking hadn’t caught up yet, which is a bit like upgrading your engine and forgetting to tell the brakes.

What To Do With This

If you lead people, this matters more than you think. Acknowledge the external pressures your team is dealing with – pretending they don’t exist makes you look like you’ve been living in a cave with excellent lighting – but don’t stop there. Your job is to consistently bring the conversation back to what can still be influenced, because that’s where movement happens.

If you want to test this properly, try this:

• Write down everything that’s currently stressing you out, frustrating you, or getting in the way
• Split it into two columns: what is external, and what sits within your control
• Be honest, not optimistic
• Let go of what you cannot influence
• Build a plan, however small, for what you can

Not a five-year strategy. Not a colour-coded life plan. Just a next step.

Because the shift doesn’t happen when everything changes. It happens the moment you realise you’re not as stuck as you thought – and decide to do something about it.

Because the biggest shift isn’t when your situation changes. It’s when you stop waiting for it to.