Going back a few decades, military families had a saying when their loved one was deployed: “No news is good news” (NNIGN). Technology wasn’t what it is today, and indeed, comms blackouts were the norm as part of maintaining operational security (OPSEC). Despite advances in technology, for many, the mantra of NNIGN still exists today due to OPSEC and operational tempo. Kevin Humphreys explores the tradition of ‘silent leadership’ is safe aviation operations.

However, in aviation, especially in safety-critical roles, the opposite holds true: no news is definitely not good news!

When communication dries up, so does shared awareness. And when leaders remain quiet, the consequences extend far beyond the workplace. Risk doesn’t disappear; it hides in plain sight.

Origins of Silent Leadership in Aviation

Aviation has always valued stoicism. From early days in timber and fabric combat cockpits to commercial flight decks, the unspoken code was often: hold the line, show no weakness, keep flying. That mindset helped in the early evolutionary periods of aviation warfare and in setting new feats of human endurance to open up the globe. Still, when it becomes the default mode, it stops serving us. It starts hurting us.

For decades, many leaders were taught that strength means being made of steel. Keep your game face on. Don’t show fatigue. Don’t admit uncertainty. Don’t question the Captain. Just get the job done. Aviators at every level were expected to be as unshakable and debonair as Lord Flashheart of Blackadder fame, and junior crewmembers were expected to be obedient.

A well-known and compelling case study is that of United Airlines Flight 173, which occurred in December 1978. The crew was so focused on a landing gear issue that they ran out of fuel mid-air. The first officer noticed the fuel concern, but the Captain’s authority went unchallenged until it was too late. The result? Ten fatalities, and the beginning of modern Crew Resource Management (CRM).

 

These days, the stakes seem ever higher, the margin for error slimmer, and the tempo relentless. Many leaders, particularly those moving from operational to senior roles, default to silence, not because they don’t care, but because they feel they can’t afford to look uncertain. Sometimes silence is learned behavior, inherited from generations of leaders who equated quiet with control. For others, it’s a survival mechanism; an unconscious strategy to manage overwhelm or avoid conflict.

Whatever the origin, those mindsets are dangerous in high-risk environments. Silence breeds risk through reduced team engagement, slower hazard detection, and a growing disconnect between management and line operations. Without visible vulnerability, teams assume perfection, and ‘always on’ is the standard; they must hide anything less.

One of the most costly myths in aviation safety is that zero reports indicate everything is fine. Though, as anyone who’s ever worked in an operational environment knows, when reports stop, it usually means people have stopped speaking up. That’s not safety. That’s fear.

The Price of Unspoken Risk

Of course, it’s not just about a singular catastrophic failure like Tenerife that we’ve all heard about. It’s about the non-compliances and near misses that happened yesterday and will happen tomorrow if no one feels safe enough to name them.

You can think of silence like a hairline crack. Invisible at first glance. Easy to miss if you are not looking for it. Over time, the integrity erodes, and the break, when it comes, is rarely subtle.

That’s what happens when teams feel they can’t speak up. Early warnings disappear. Minor concerns go unvoiced. The safety culture weakens, not because the systems failed, but rather because people stopped feeding the system the truth.

Take the 2005 Royal Australian Navy Sea King crash on Nias Island. Nine lives were lost. The short official finding? Mechanical failure. Yet dig deeper, and you will find a systemic silence.

Maintenance logs that did not reflect known issues. Safety concerns that stayed in hangars and ready rooms instead of surfacing in briefings. “An embedded culture of shortcuts and workarounds”. Though leadership silence was not the only cause, it was a key contributor.

These devastating moments should not be dismissed as historical footnotes. They are case studies in what happens when we let fear of speaking outweigh the need to listen.

Leadership silence has fingerprints in more reports than we like to admit. And each time, the lesson is the same: silence can kill. It’s drift. And in aviation, drift becomes danger. We often discuss human factors in aviation, and at the core of all these conversations is one fundamental truth: people only bring their best when they feel safe.

Sound CRM = Psychological Safety = Safety for All

The statistics speak volumes. According to Boeing’s Human Factors Report, over 70% of aviation accidents globally cite communication failures as a contributing factor. NASA’s Aviation Safety Reporting System continues to log thousands of incidents each year where miscommunication, misunderstanding, or failure to speak up created unnecessary risk. Of course, this isn’t new news. Arguably, it’s been the case since the beginning of crewed flight.

 

Introduced after a series of defining crashes like UA Flight 173 and Tenerife, sound CRM is not just about checklists or how the Captain and co-pilot talk to each other during a takeoff or inflight malfunction. It’s about communication at every level and in every way: up, down, sideways; before, during and after flight; in and out of the aircraft. It’s about breaking down hierarchy so that every voice in the system carries weight, not just the Captain’s.

Effective CRM transforms the crew or organization from a hierarchy to a team. It reinforces that challenge is not conflict, but rather competence. That speaking up is not insubordination; it’s professionalism. Those competent in its use know that whilst CRM does not eliminate risk, it creates the conditions where risk is more likely to be found and managed collaboratively.

This invisible engine of CRM now has a name: psychological safety. Without psychological safety, you can have all the procedures in the world and still miss the obvious. Without it, leadership silence gets mistaken for clarity or agreement. Without it, people don’t feel safe speaking up or owning up.

Harvard Business School professor and matriarch of the term ‘psychological safety’, Amy Edmondson, defines it as:

“a belief that one will not be punished or humiliated for speaking up with ideas, questions, concerns or mistakes, and that the team is safe for interpersonal risk-taking.”

“A belief…not punished or humiliated…the team is safe…”. Whilst it’s management’s responsibility to create the conditions for psychological safety, it’s up to each individual to determine whether it exists for them.

In aviation, we rely on systems, SOPs, and training. However, those only work when people use them and feel safe enough to speak up when they notice a drift. When leaders stay silent about their challenges, it sends an implicit message: “We do not talk about what is hard here.”

That’s not a strength. That’s a slow bleed.

According to the Australian Council of Trade Unions, 78% of workers say stress directly undermines their performance. Seventy-one per cent say it follows them home. And over 60% report that it affects their overall well-being. These are not just well-being metrics. They’re operational indicators.

Turning back to Professor Edmundson for a moment, she says, “If you change the nature and quality of the conversations in your team, your outcomes will improve exponentially. Psychological safety is the core component to unlock this.”

Here are a few small ways to start changing the conversations in your team:

Communication isn’t just a function; it’s a leadership multiplier. When used with intention, it shares clarity, strengthens confidence, and accelerates recovery from errors or setbacks. Teams don’t just need task lists, they need tone-setters. Leaders who name the tension, reset the rhythm, and model the authenticity they want to see in others. Because when high-responsibility professionals hear the truth, not just protocol, it builds trust.

Trust Isn’t Built in Briefings, It’s Built in Behavior

Trust is a key ingredient for psychological safety. Trust doesn’t get established through SOPs or posters on the hangar wall. It’s forged moment by moment in how we speak, how we listen, and how we show up under pressure. When a leader admits, “I’m stretched today, but I’m here with you,” it invites others to drop the act and show up honestly too. That’s how teams go from compliant to committed.

The real courage? Naming what’s hard. Admitting what’s real. Creating a climate where others can do the same. Years ago, I found myself in a leadership role where I believed that my silence was a sign of strength. I kept my fatigue hidden. I avoided showing doubt. I told myself I was modelling resilience. Yet, what I was modelling was distance and poor decisions.

At first, it worked. Though over time, the team stopped sharing their concerns. They started saying “all good” when it clearly wasn’t. The silence spread like low cloud cover, blurring visibility, dulling judgment.

Eventually, it hit me: I wasn’t building trust. I was destroying it.

In environments where precision and accountability are non-negotiable, trust is the invisible keystone that holds everything together. It’s what allows a junior crew member to challenge a flawed brief. It’s what keeps a fatigued technician from cutting corners. It’s what holds culture together when the op tempo spikes and resources get tight.

Without trust, things fall through the cracks, and the consequences are rarely small. When a leader speaks up with transparency, it creates a ripple effect. Trust increases. People feel seen. They stop looking over their shoulders and start looking out for each other. That’s how you get proactive risk reporting, not reactive incident response.

On the other hand, when leaders remain quiet, withdraw, mask their struggles, or avoid difficult conversations, their teams often follow suit. The result? Surface compliance. Stagnant culture. Invisible hazards. The silence makes them unsure if anyone’s listening, and when communication breaks down, so does psychological safety. The great news is that you don’t have to hold a designated leadership position to improve communication and trust within your team.

Leadership From Any Seat

The pilot in the command seat of an aircraft is clearly in a leadership role and sets the tone, though they may not have the loudest voice. However, leadership isn’t about ‘command’ or the seat you occupy. Aviation provides numerous examples of situational leadership, and the worlds of Emergency Medical Services (EMS) and Search and Rescue (SAR) exemplify this concept perfectly.

In an Australian EMS/SAR aircraft, there are five (sometimes four) crew: Pilot, Aircrew Officer, Rescue Crew Officer, Paramedic and Doctor. Depending on the phase of the mission and the prevailing circumstances, any one of them can take the lead and direct the other crew members to achieve the required outcome. I call them a team of individual specialists, each knowing when to lead and when to follow.

Yes, each member needs to have excellent technical skills and abilities in their field. However, all of them also need to understand that they have both a right and an obligation. First to observe and listen for what matters, then to speak with curiosity or authority as the situation dictates.

 

This is what allows them to go beyond training flights by day in clear, blue conditions to then execute missions successfully when things get dark and tough. This is where the real test begins. Not in the checklist, but in the calm clarity each person brings around the checklist.

The best leaders I’ve flown with weren’t necessarily the aircraft captains. They were the ones who kept their tone steady when something went awry. Who opened the comms loop and made it safe for every voice in the aircraft to be heard, even the most junior. Because in aviation, as in leadership, silence in the wrong moment is more than costly, it’s fatal.

As retired U.S. Navy Captain and pilot David Marquet put it: “Leadership is communicating to people their worth and potential so clearly that they are inspired to see it in themselves.” If silence is the default, that message never lands.

Your presence matters. Your words matter. Your courage to speak, especially when it’s hard, might be the very thing that steadies someone else.

Because when a leader finds their voice, a team finds its courage, and everyone finds safety.