Years ago, when psychological safety became the buzzword du jour for business leaders, I was 100% on board. It was the answer to the power structures that kept employees silent, and finally we had a label for a common dynamic—and thanks to Amy Edmonson, some frameworks to deal with it.
But today, just as the pendulum has swung on DEI, psychological safety is losing its luster. On a pre-call for a keynote last week, I was asked if my keynote mentions psychological safety. It doesn’t, but I asked why. In so many words, they believed psychological safety was now viewed as woke PC BS.
At its core, psychological safety is the shared belief that members of a team feel safe to take interpersonal risks. The way it has been popularized, however, puts the entire burden on leaders to create that safety. Leaders must signal it, model it, guarantee it. But that framing runs counter to the very ideals many workplaces were built on—the American dream of independence, hard work, and accountability. Why should leaders coddle employees who don’t feel safe?
That’s why accountability matters here. Our definition of accountability is the personal choice to focus on what I can control. And what I can always control is how brave I choose to be. I may not control whether my environment feels psychologically safe. But I can choose whether I speak the hard truth, ask the naïve question, or admit I was wrong.
Here’s the truth: psychological safety may or may not exist in any given environment. But what you can always control is whether you practice psychological bravery.
Safety is a climate. Bravery is a choice. Accountability is the bridge between the two.
Bravery is willingly taking interpersonal risks in service of a shared purpose. I’ve felt this myself. On a recent executive call, three leaders in a row voted “no” on a new initiative. When it was my turn, I was a hard yes. I had a choice: go with the consensus or risk dissent. Even as a senior leader, I hedged—“I know this might not be popular, but…” That’s the tug-of-war between safety and bravery.
Psychological bravery is naming the uncomfortable truth no one wants to say out loud. And it is also repairing when harm occurs. One without the other keeps organizations stuck.
Bravery rarely looks like what leaders expect. It is not about volume. It is not the loudest voice in the meeting or the dramatic critique that wins applause. True bravery is often quiet. It is saying “I do not know” when everyone expects you to have the answer. It is being willing to change your mind in front of your team when new information arrives. It is asking the naïve question that everyone else is too afraid to ask.
It’s also not distributed evenly. For new hires, contractors, and underrepresented employees, the price of bravery is higher. In my own work, I’ve seen this play out clearly. White employees with more psychological safety will raise complaints early and often. But for Black employees, where psychological safety is generally lower, the threshold for speaking up is much higher. So when they do, it’s almost always a sign the issue is serious. I’ve also seen leaders recognize this and respond with more urgency to underrepresented voices. When leaders treat those moments of bravery as the signals they are—not as noise—they not only solve the issue at hand, they send a message to the entire organization: risk is worth it.
Bravery is a practice. You name it. You model it. And you reward it when you see it. If you want to know whether psychological bravery is alive in your culture, pay attention to the leading indicators. How long does it take for bad news to surface? How often do people revisit decisions because new data changed the story? How many times do people propose an alternative path when they disagree? Those are signals that your culture prioritizes truth over ego.
If you want to experiment with this, start small. In your next meeting, invite someone to challenge your riskiest assumption. Start staff meetings with “What is going worse than we expected?” and celebrate the person who brings the tough news to light. If someone disagrees, ask them to draft an alternative solution instead of stopping at criticism.
Here’s the bottom line: psychological safety is important. But psychological bravery deserves more airtime at work—because while safety is shared, bravery is personal. We are responsible for our own actions. Accountability is the lens that makes bravery possible: when I focus on what I can control, I can always choose courage.
Psychological safety makes risk possible. Psychological bravery makes progress inevitable. Your job as a leader isn’t to make everyone feel safe—it’s to make bravery worth it.
Elsewhere In Culture
It wasn’t revealed at a Coldplay concert but it is still making waves. Nestlé has abruptly removed CEO Laurent Freixe after he failed to disclose an inappropriate relationship with a subordinate, which violated the company’s code of conduct. My take is straightforward: with great power comes great responsibility, and when you are running one of the world’s largest companies, the spotlight never turns off. People love to hate CEOs, which means you have to be on your A game every single day if you want to lead effectively and maintain trust.
And Nestlé is not alone. Astronomer’s CEO Andy Byron resigned after being caught on camera at a Coldplay concert embracing his HR chief, triggering an ethics investigation and a very public exit. Kohl’s CEO Ashley Buchanan was fired after just over 100 days in the role when it was revealed he had a romantic relationship with a vendor tied to a multimillion dollar deal, violating conflict of interest policies. Then there was the Paving CEO who stole a hat from a little boy at a tennis game. These stories share the same lesson. CEOs who treat accountability as optional are losing trust, credibility, and their jobs in real time.
https://www.wsj.com/economy/jobs/black-american-unemployment-rates-866f2c45?mod=hp_lead_pos3
Right now, the unemployment rate for Black workers is double that of white workers, and many economists are calling it the “canary in the coal mine” for where the economy is heading. Underrepresented groups are often hit first and hardest, signalling broader trouble ahead. Historically, the federal government has been a pathway to the middle class for many Black workers, providing stable, well-paying jobs. Those opportunities are shrinking, and as DEI initiatives continue to dissolve, the systems that once created economic mobility for non-white workers are eroding at the same time.
Couple that with news that a third of US states are already in recession and you have most economists warning that the future is not too bright.