First, a definition.
Psychological Safety. That’s the common label for the kind of safety we’re speaking of today. Of course, physical safety is equally paramount. Even in the brutal training of military special forces, safety during the training is stressed. Participants may feel as though they’re going to die as they push to never-before-experienced extremes. But there’s an implicit sense that those around them won’t let them fail to the point of serious injury or death…in spite of the fact that accidents do sometimes happen. Ditto for people in the workplace. Employees must be provided a safe environment in which to perform. Else, they’re going to be fearful and unable to perform. Unless, of course, they’re professional athletes – or police officers, or firefighters, or soldiers, or any number of other occupations that have inherent and obvious risks!
Psychological safety is the belief that you won’t be punished or humiliated for speaking up with ideas, questions, concerns, or mistakes.
This explains why sometimes people don’t do anything. Or say anything. Too often apathy isn’t the result of anything more than people enduring ongoing discouragement…becoming less and less safe. It’s easier to stand still and do nothing – even if that results in some chastisement. The devil you know is better than the one you don’t. Why do something and risk an unfamiliar chastisement?
Frontline workers are often silenced because of fear and the reality that nobody wants to hear what they have to say anyway. So why bother?
Why bother?
Trust. That’s the real issue.
Team members don’t trust the boss. The boss doesn’t trust team members.
The group doesn’t trust the guy who is trying to assume leadership. He desperately wants to be in charge, but nobody trusts him – except to be self-serving.
People won’t be honest. Instead, they’ll be nice.
Kindness isn’t the same as being nice.
Friends and even enemies will often be nice. It’s not helpful, but they’ll be nice.
Nice is telling you how sorry they are you’re experiencing something difficult. “I’m so sorry you’re going through that,” they’ll say. Question? Is that helpful? Other than knowing somebody feels sorry for you, it’s not terribly helpful.
Kind is different. “I’m sorry you’re having such a tough time. What actions are you thinking of taking to move forward?” It’s not hateful, but it might be helpful…provoking them to think about and articulate what they might be able to do to improve things. Especially if the conversation continues with valuable back and forth…in a judgment-free zone with a clear emphasis on simply helping the person figure it out.
No dog in the hunt. Unselfish motives.
It’s hard to get. Selflessness in people willing and able to help us without trying to live our lives for us. People whose only vested interest is our very best!
Human capacity to work for one another. With one another. It’s extraordinarily high value. And too frequently hard to find and to accomplish. Because we get in the way. In a word, it’s pride that ruins things.
Years ago, as I observed people (mostly men) who clamored to be in charge, to be the boss, to be the one making the decisions, I watched the destruction of their careers, groups to which they belonged, teams of which they were a member and organizations where they operated. I observed the carnage created by their ego and pride.
The height of the progression is compassion. It seems to me that without compassion – or at least the prospect of it – we can’t experience trust. The kind of trust we need to feel and know we’re safe.