(image by sosiukin - Adobe Stock)

Matt had been a safety professional for twelve years, long enough to know the weight of binders. The red ones were risk registers. The blue ones were procedures. The yellow ones were audits of procedures written to satisfy audits of procedures. Every shelf bowed slightly, like it was tired of pretending this was progress.

The meeting began, as it always did, with compliance:

“We’re behind on the quarterly checklist,” someone said. “Which one?” asked Ben. “The revised version of the revised version,” replied Lila, without irony.

Matt watched the room. Smart people. Capable people. People who cared deeply about others going home safe. Yet no one questioned the premise, only the backlog. He cleared his throat, and said: “Can I ask something uncomfortable?”

Silence, as pens paused. Matt: “When was the last time this checklist prevented an injury?” Ben frowned. “Well… it demonstrates due diligence.”Matt: “That’s not what I asked.” Lila leaned back, and said: “I don’t think it ever has. But if we don’t do it, we’ll be exposed.” "Exposed to what?” Matt said. “Or who?” A nervous laugh broke out, and someone tapped a pen against the table.

Then, they talked, not about forms, but about work. About shortcuts that made sense. About hazards everyone knew but never wrote down because they didn’t fit a template. About the time a supervisor ignored a procedure and prevented a serious accident by trusting their experience.

Matt stood and walked to the whiteboard. He drew two columns: Meaningful work, and Compliance work. At first, the second column filled faster. Then someone said, “This one doesn’t belong here at all.” Another added, “Neither does that.” They erased. And erased again. Ben finally said what had been hovering all along: “We’re treating safety like a machine that improves if we tighten the screws. But people don’t work like that.” “And we keep adding systems,” Lila said slowly, “because no one ever stops them at the start.”

The insight landed quietly, without drama: the clutter wasn’t inevitable. It had been introduced, one form, one rule, one well-intended process at a time, and once normalised, it had become untouchable. Matt capped the marker. “What if the best safety decision isn’t fixing the process… but stopping it?” No one objected.

Afterwards, they didn’t burn or throw away the binders. They also didn’t declare revolution. They simply agreed that from now on, before introducing anything new, they would ask one question:

Does this help the work, or does it just prove we were here?

And for the first time in years, the shelves stayed exactly as they were; no heavier, no fuller, while the conversations got lighter, sharper, and far more human.

(this piece is inspired by Drew Rae and colleagues' work on safety cluster).