Symphonic Trust

We've all heard about TED talks.

TED is the acronym for technology, entertainment and design. Engaging, short (about 12 minutes) talks that are published on the Internet (ted.com), there's at least one topic that you and I will find interesting.


One such talk was by symphony conductor Charles Hazlewood's about the role of trust between conductor and orchestra, which he describes as a "miracle."


It's a miracle that everything comes together to produce the sounds that move an audience.


In the old days, Hazlewood explains, the conductor was in a position of power, a dictator - but that has evolved with society, and music reflects that evolution.


"We now have a more democratic view and way of making music - a two-way street," Hazlewood says. "I, as the conductor, have to come to the rehearsal with a cast-iron sense of the outer architecture of that music, within which there is then immense personal freedom for the members of the orchestra to shine. There has to be, between me and orchestra, an unshakeable bond of trust, born out of mutual respect, through which we can spin a musical narrative that we all believe in."


Trust, it turns out, is at the heart of all relationships, no matter how they are defined.


I trust that the air traffic controller isn't going to steer me into another aircraft when I'm in the clouds. You trust that the person juxtaposed at the intersection from you is going to stop at the red light. We all trust that the person with whom we have a contract will perform his or her part of the bargain.


Trust is the glue that keeps humanity together, and a democratic freedom is the lubricant the keeps humanity moving.

Trust is what allows us to make assumptions that things will go right. That a dollar is worth a dollar, that a promise will be kept, that the Uber driver will pick us up and take us to where we want to go.


The archetype of trust is workers' compensation. The complex web of trust between so many different performers in the world of work comp is no different than Hazlewood's orchestra; we all have to have a deep trust in each other that each will do their part to keep the system together, and moving.


The employer trusts the insurance company with its money to protect it financially when a work place accident occurs. The insurance company trusts the broker that the details of the employer's risk are properly accounted for. Wall Street trusts the insurance company that its assets are real and can back the investments ordered. The injured worker trusts that the doctor is going to provide the best treatment possible for the injury. The doctor trusts that the insurance company is going to pay his or her bill. The insurance company trusts the injured worker isn't faking it, and is interested in getting better and back to work. The government trusts that everyone will play be the rules.


And so on.


"You know, it's not about power," says Hazlewood. "It's not about who's in charge. It's about me throwing out a gesture and trusting myself and, therefore, trusting that they will read that gesture and respond to it."


But when that trust ceases or erodes, contempt, ridicule and dysfunction take over.


I've written before that workers' compensation is a system built on mistrust. And I think Hazlewood hit the proverbial nail on the head: it's about "trusting myself" which allows trust in others.


When the conductor doesn't trust that the orchestra will follow the direction, he over-compensates, and over-gesticulates. And the orchestra over reacts, and eventually the entire performance is ridiculed.


As Hazlewood explains it: "Think about it - when you're in a position of not trusting, what do you do? You overcompensate. And in my game, that means you over-gesticulate. You end up like some kind of rabid windmill. And the bigger your gesture gets, the more ill-defined, blurry and, frankly, useless it is to the orchestra. You become a figure of fun. There's no trust anymore, only ridicule. And how futile seemed the words of advice to me from the great British veteran conductor Sir Colin Davis who said, 'conducting, Charles, is like holding a small bird in your hand. If you hold it too tightly, you crush it. If you hold it too loosely, it flies away.' I have to say, in those days, I couldn't really even find the bird."


That's what's happened in workers' compensation - we've gone so far beyond trust that we have overcompensated, we have become a "figure of fun," ridiculed in the press, criticized for our antics, looking ill-defined, blurry and useless to employers and their work forces.


Every time there's been a breach of trust we over compensate. We call this "reform" but in truth what really is occurring is that someone in a position of power says they don't trust some element of the workers' compensation system so laws and regulations are crafted, debated and eventually dictated in an attempt to micro-manage the orchestra.


And that never works out in the end. There are too many moving parts, too many contributors, too many different sounds trying to come together in a cacophony of disparate interests lacking sufficient trust in another.


How do we build trust back into workers' compensation? It won't happen by dictate or fiat. It won't happen by passing a "reform." It won't happen unless and until each and every one of us first trusts ourselves.


Do you, as an adjuster, trust yourself to make the right decision on a case? Do you, as an injured worker, trust yourself to overcome the burden of injury? Do you, as an employer, trust yourself to provide an environment safe for those injured at your business? Do you, as an attorney, trust yourself to look past the money and advise your client about what's right for him? Do you, as a doctor, trust yourself to perform the right procedure or prescribe the right treatment?


Do any of us trust ourselves to put the interests of the system first?


Lest you doubt that a conductor knows anything about impairments and disability, in 2012 Hazlewood founded The British Paraorchestra, the world's first large-scale professional ensemble of virtuoso musicians with disabilities.