Over twenty years, Finland decreased the male suicide rate by 61%. What can the rest of us learn from that country’s achievement?
[The following article discusses the management of suicide and suicide prevention.]
Over twenty years, Finland decreased the male suicide rate by 61%. What can the rest of us learn from that country’s achievement?
[The following article discusses the management of suicide and suicide prevention.]
Every company seems to have a Mission Statement, a Values Statement, or something similar that all employees are expected to follow and comply with. Largely, these are aspirational statements, but they are sometimes invoked when/if an employee needs to be disciplined or dismissed. The values are often vague and lend themselves to various interpretations, even though compliance is expected and is usually part of the employment contract.
At the moment, some conservative politicians, such as Angus Taylor, are emphasising the need for citizens and immigrants to commit to and comply with “Australian values”. How he plans to enforce them is unclear, but most of his proposed values have direct impacts on how occupational health and safety (OHS) is likely to be managed.
Discussions about “the human condition” rarely make it into board papers or safety strategies, yet they sit underneath almost every modern workplace challenge. Whether we’re talking about psychosocial hazards, insecure work, presenteeism, or the slow cultural erosion that comes from constant restructuring, the through‑line is unmistakable: work is a profoundly human activity, and when we forget that, harm follows.
Lindsay Fitzclarence‘s travelogue “The Dirty Life of Mining in Australia” is a thought-provoking work that combines social, economic, industrial, indigenous, and environmental perspectives into a journey across Australia. Occupational health and safety (OHS) is one theme, but it is part of many, and the book is better for it.
Continue reading “Travelling Through Australia’s Beautiful and Broken Mining Country”In Australia, the sovereign citizen movement has gained strength for some time, particularly since the COVID-19 pandemic. It is also, according to The Age newspaper recently, creating administrative problems for the courts – Flash juries and Bible verses: How sovereign citizens clog up Australian courts (paywalled). I began considering how I would manage a worker who held sovereign-citizen beliefs and might object to certain policies and directives used in the occupational health and safety (OHS) context.
Every few years, a new global initiative arrives promising to reshape corporate behaviour. The Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) were meant to align business with human well-being. The Global Reporting Initiative (GRI) promised transparency. ESG (Environmental, Social and Governance) reporting was sold as the market‑friendly mechanism that would finally make corporations care about people and the planet.
Yet here we are, decades into these frameworks, and the pattern of harm inside workplaces looks remarkably familiar. Catastrophic failures still occur in companies with immaculate sustainability reports. Precarious work continues to expand. Psychosocial harm is rising, not falling. And the gap between what corporations say and what they do has never been wider.
The uncomfortable truth is that these global initiatives are not designed to prevent harm. They are designed to signal responsibility without redistributing power. And harm prevention, as we know from decades of occupational health and safety (OHS) experience, is fundamentally a question of power.
Until recently, Donna McGeorge‘s book “Red Brick Thinking” passed me by, but her perspective aligns closely with the occupational health and safety (OHS) concepts of “safety clutter” and the Swiss cheese model.