It was the worst of times and it was anything but the best of times, it was the age of selflessness, it was the age of selfishness. Coronavirus appears to inspire binary reactions. There are plenty of examples on any continent of politicians and organisations apparently seeking to out-do themselves in terms of egregious, self-serving and shabby behaviour. Human nature tends to see us focusing on such examples but that would be to ignore some lovely acts of compassion and connection. Take a bow, then, Captain Tom Moore.
This is a story that improves by the day. Around a week ago, the very much retired 99 year old ex-Army captain announced that he was attempting to usher in his century by walking 100 lengths of his 25m garden. Furthermore, in doing so, he was trying to raise a handsome £1,000 for the NHS – Captain Moore having successfully come through recent treatment both for cancer and a broken hip. The story has since snowballed and caught the attention, imagination and wallets of the nation. As of today, more than 250,000 people have donated together over £12m for the NHS, via the good captain. It seems unlikely to stop there, given the amount of times I’ve had to update the figure during the writing of this blog.
Part of Captain Moore’s significant charm has been his courage, his sense of togetherness with the health service, but also his openness and candour. He is happy to present himself as he is – a frail, stooping, old man, armed these days with nothing but a zimmer frame. And entirely magnificent he is too.
I’d contrast that entirely with the equally magnificent television series, Chernobyl, which I’m only now getting around to watch – clearly to cheer me up. Equally horrific have been the reconstruction of the nuclear meltdown, the effects of the fallout and some of the late 1980s Ukrainian facial hair on show.
Perhaps even more fascinating were the workplace and cultural observations of the time and place. I don’t think I’m giving too much away, but as the true horror of the meltdown becomes clearer, the Chernobyl scientists and managers from the powerplant go out of their way to attach blame to colleagues in a usually vain attempt to better position themselves in the eyes of their bosses and party leaders. Management is achieved entirely through bullying, threat and coercion.
Of psychological safety (or indeed any other form of safety), there is none.
I wrote about this construct just short of a year ago. It describes, or rather Harvard Business School’s Dr Amy Edmondson describes it as, ‘a shared belief that the team is a safe environment for interpersonal risk taking’.
Google’s Project Aristotle, which analysed the work of 180 internal Google teams, established that psychological safety was the common theme in its highest performing teams. The people in such teams trusted each other, felt comfortable bringing half-formed ideas to the table and equally comfortable commenting openly on such ideas. It was found to be more of a performance factor than education or the diversity of teams.
Rather than something warm, cosy and comforting, as I probably initially thought, it is the construction of a workplace in which people feel encouraged to speak their mind, to speak up and speak out. To be open, curious, to take risks, without the constant fear of criticism, disapproval and professional retribution.
I didn’t see much of this in evidence during the Chernobyl programme. I also wonder how it will fare during the current lockdown. Personally, it’s hard to imagine, but let’s analyse what tends to make up psychological professional safety.
Given that we are all operating with the prospect of catching or passing on an awful, potentially life-threatening disease, words like safety feel a distant construct. Lives are today being spent either at the coalface of healthcare or lived through closed doors and twitched curtains. The only safety we encounter is by locking ourselves in and away from the world. The sense of openness and the confidence to express ourselves is distinctly compromised if our immediate surroundings are four very finite walls.
Such insularity is also unlikely to encourage our capacity to be curious, to question, to probe, to push the conversation – typical facets of a psychologically safe working environment.
And conversations themselves are something of a mine field. If you’re experiencing lockdown on your own, they can be few and far between. If you’re spending it with family, then it’s not entirely beyond the realms of possibility that you might be spending much time biting your tongue, treading on verbal eggshells and generally being watchful of the reaction of others, rather than expressing yourself freely, openly, with candour and without fear of comeback.
The use of video conferencing has grown exponentially over the last month or so, and shares in the likes of Zoom have responded accordingly. But, again, if we look at some of the attributes of a psychologically safe working environment, it doesn’t naturally feel as if such technology lends itself to people letting down their guard, disagreeing, speaking out. Again, much of the well-meaning advice around preparing for a Zoom call, currently doing the rounds, is to get the lighting right, to be mindful of the background, being conscious of our appearance, knowing where our fellow lockdowners are. We’re putting up our guard, in such cases, rather than letting it down. The implication is that we have to worry about our choice of books, casual wear and moisturising regime more than what we have to contribute to the debate.
It feels too as though we’re all still trying to get our heads round when to speak on such calls, rather than what we have to contribute. If psychological safety is heavily influenced by people feeling that they have a voice, lockdowns and even some of the technology solutions appear to be taking such voices away.
If we go back to Kahn’s interpretation of psychological safety as being ‘included, safe…and without fear’, again the restrictions imposed upon us by the coronavirus appear to be actively stripping such attributes away. Clearly, it is challenging to imagine a time when people felt less safe and more fear. Perhaps more interesting as regards this conversation is the point around inclusion.
Self-isolation feels the polar opposite of inclusion. We feel distant, separated, unempowered, unconnected. The coronavirus has excluded many of us – both physically and psychologically.
Psychological safety also speaks to risk taking and unpredictability. Such behaviours are exactly what governments and health professionals are, quite rightly, warning us against. All of a sudden, our greatest risk is often opening the door to the delivery man and it can be challenging to think of a more predictable existence than spending 24 hours a day under effective house arrest.
It can be hard to muster up much in the way of optimism – watching Chernobyl will do that for you – however, channelling my inner Captain Moore, I’ve been watching Nationwide Building Society’s new iteration of its Voices branding campaign. The essence of the work is positioning us six months into the future and imagining what and how we will remember the lockdown. It is very lovely, very touching, very human.
It also seeks to give people a sense not only of hope but also of voice.
This key element of psychological safety has clearly been impacted as people are shut behind closed doors, discouraged from literally and figuratively venturing out. Well done, Nationwide.
As we start, very quietly, to talk about a return to work, if not normality, then the psychological safety that has driven ideas, productivity and imaginations may not necessarily automatically return. We have, understandably, pressed the hold button on it. The sooner working environments that speak to and inspire curiosity, challenge, risk and openness are re-opened for business, the faster our own sense of openness will return.
And apologies to Mr Dickens.
Getting to the heart of your employee mindset 