Failing in Good Faith (Part 2)

January 16, 2003.

Space Shuttle Columbia lifts off from Cape Canaveral. Eighty-two seconds into ascent, a chunk of foam insulation the size of a carry-on bag breaks off the fuel tank and punches into the leading edge of the left wing at 500 miles per hour. Ground cameras catch it on video.

The next day, a team of engineers is assembled to assess the damage. Rodney Rocha (the chief structural engineer at Johnson Space Center) is on that team. He knows what they need. Better images. The existing footage is blurry, the angles are wrong, and without clearer pictures they cannot assess the threat to the crew.

He requests satellite imagery. At least a dozen times. Every request is denied. The issue is declared a "dead issue" by program managers. He emails the shuttle engineering office asking that the astronauts be directed to visually inspect the wing from outside the vehicle. No response. When a reply eventually comes, the message is clear: stop being Chicken Little.

Eight days into the mission, the crew is finally told about the foam strike -- not out of safety concern, but so they wouldn't be caught off guard if a reporter asked about it on landing.

At some point, Rocha stopped pushing.

When investigators later asked him why he didn't go over the heads of the managers shutting him down, his answer was simple. He didn't want to be the one person who caused a mission stand-down. He was afraid of being wrong. He was afraid of what it would cost him.

On February 1st, Columbia attempted reentry. Temperature sensors in the left wing stopped giving readings. Superheated gases burned through the structure. The orbiter went out of control within seconds. We all know the tragedy that came next.

The investigation board found eight separate missed opportunities to catch the problem during the sixteen-day flight. Eight. Their conclusion about NASA leadership was pointed: management displayed no interest in understanding the problem and failed to engage the range of expertise necessary to find the right answer.

But here is what the report couldn't fully quantify. NASA had spent years teaching its people that dissent was costly. That persistence made you difficult. That being wrong in front of management had consequences. Rocha was a brilliant engineer who had been trained by his environment to eventually go quiet.

That environment didn't build itself. Leaders built it. Decision by decision, reaction by reaction, over years.

What Are You Building?

I think about Rocha whenever I'm tempted to dismiss a concern too quickly. To signal, even subtly, that someone is overcomplicating something. To move on before the person in the room has said everything they came in to say.

Because here is what I know to be true: a culture where people are afraid to be wrong is more dangerous than one where people sometimes make honest mistakes.

The concept I keep coming back to is this: failing in good faith (see my first post on this here).

It means that if someone on your team exercises sound judgment, acts in the right interest, and still gets it wrong -- they should never stand alone. Your job is to be next to them. To fix it together. To treat it as shared learning, not a mark against one person.

The boundary is equally clear. Decisions that are illegal, unethical, or contrary to your values don't get that protection. This isn't a license for recklessness. It's a commitment that courage will be rewarded even when outcomes disappoint.

Most leaders say they believe this. The harder question is whether the people around you actually feel it. Whether your Rodney Rochas are still sending emails at the end of the day, or whether they've already learned it isn't worth it.

You are building one of those two cultures right now. Not in your next performance review. Not in your next all-hands. In how you respond the next time someone tells you something you don't want to hear.

Which one is it going to be?

Don’t settle. Be relentless.

— Hunter