This is why middle managers have the least psychological safety (and it’s not their fault)

I was a latchkey kid.

Most afternoons, I came home to an empty house, let myself in with my own key, and figured it out—homework and snacks. There was inherent trust from my parents that I’d figure it out, and everything would be alright.

You learned fast. If you got stuck, you improvised. If you were scared, you got practical. If you needed help, you decided whether it was “worth” bothering anyone. And if you were the oldest—if you were parentified—you were given responsibilities without guidance, expected to “just know.”

Thirty years later, I’m watching middle managers experience the exact same thing.

We hand them keys instead of house rules, responsibilities instead of resources, and expectations instead of authority—then act surprised when they’re exhausted, disengaged, or quietly looking for a way out.

Harvard Business Review recently reported that middle managers feel less psychologically safe than their bosses and their teams. That should stop us in our tracks, because middle managers are the layer we rely on to translate strategy into reality—and reality into feedback that leaders can actually use.

Middle managers aren’t failing. They’re experiencing organizational latchkey syndrome: They’re isolated, underresourced, expected to “figure it out,” and blamed when things break.

The anatomy of organizational latchkey syndrome

Middle management strain isn’t mysterious. It’s structural. And it tends to show up in three predictable conditions.

1) Responsibility without resources

Many middle managers are promoted because they were excellent individual contributors—not because anyone developed their leadership capacity. They inherit people management and “culture” the way latchkey kids inherited independence: abruptly, without training, with a quiet expectation that they’ll rise to it.

And the scope keeps expanding. A Gusto analysis (reported by Axios) shows managers’ span of control has roughly doubled in recent years, from about three direct reports in 2019 to nearly six by 2024. That’s more emotional labor—more check-ins, more conflict, more coaching, more crises—without more time. (You can read the underlying Gusto write-up here.)

2) Accountability without authority

This one is the quiet killer.

Many middle managers are told they have “autonomy,” but what they actually have is responsibility for outcomes without control over inputs.

They’re accountable for performance, but key decisions get overridden. They’re asked to “drive engagement,” but can’t influence the policies that drain morale. So they manage the gap between what people need and what the organization is willing to support.

That gap becomes a daily exercise in emotional labor: translating “strategy” into reality, making contradictions sound coherent, and absorbing frustration without passing it up.

It’s not autonomy. It’s abandonment with a title.

Here’s what that looks like in real life: A manager is expected to improve engagement scores but can’t approve a raise, adjust workloads, or backfill an open role. They’re told to “retain top talent,” but the promotion path is unclear and compensation decisions live two levels above them. So they become the messenger for decisions they didn’t make—and the buffer for frustration they can’t solve.

3) Connection without cover

Here’s the question I rarely hear anyone ask: Who can middle managers actually be safe with?

They can’t be fully candid with their boss because they’re expected to look like they have it together. They can’t fully exhale with their team because they’re expected to provide steadiness. And they can’t always be honest with peers when everyone is competing for scarce resources and recognition.

So they do what latchkey kids do: They hold it alone.

They become the ones sitting at the lunch table keeping everyone else company—while they eat by themselves.

The psychological safety paradox

Organizations are asking middle managers to create psychological safety for their teams while failing to create it for them. That’s not just unfair. It’s strategically shortsighted.

Psychological safety is permission to raise problems, admit uncertainty, ask for help, and tell the truth without punishment or humiliation. Middle managers are often the only group expected to do that up and down while being safe in neither direction.

If speaking up makes them look incompetent, they’ll stop speaking up. If flagging risk is political, they’ll manage optics instead of reality. If vulnerability gets weaponized, they’ll teach their teams to keep their heads down—not by instruction, but by example.

This is how a culture becomes emotionally unsafe while still talking about emotional intelligence, and why leadership pipelines start to break.

Why your current “solutions” aren’t working

Many companies respond to middle manager strain with quick fixes: a wellness app, encouragement to “set boundaries,” training on psychological safety, a reminder to use the employee assistance program.

Those supports can help. But they can also become a way to avoid the real conversation: You can’t self-care your way out of a structurally unsafe role.

You can’t keep demanding emotional intelligence while designing work that forces managers to stay in constant survival mode.

In my work, I call this a W.E.L.L gap: We ask leaders to model well-being, emotional intelligence, psychological safety, and sustainable self-care—inside systems that undermine all four.

What needs to change

This isn’t primarily a training problem. It’s a design problem. Here’s what actually helps.

For senior leaders

• Model the behaviors you want repeated. Invite candor before you demand it. Reward early risk-flagging instead of punishing the messenger.
  
• Make priorities real. Decide what matters most—and what will wait.
  
• Clarify decision rights. If managers are responsible for outcomes, they need authority over inputs. If they don’t have that authority, stop pretending they do—and stop evaluating them as if they did.
  
• Protect their capacity. If you flatten layers, expand scope, and speed up change, you can’t also expect deep coaching, high connection, and flawless execution. Something has to give. Choose intentionally.

For HR and People Ops

• Prepare people before promotion. Don’t wait until after the promotion to teach coaching, feedback, conflict navigation, and psychological safety. The “accidental manager” pipeline is a predictable culture leak.
  
• Create “manager-safe” spaces. Peer cohorts, confidential coaching, facilitated circles—places where managers can say, “I don’t know” without it becoming a ping on their performance review.
  
• Build respected paths for non-managers. If leadership is the only path to status, you’ll keep promoting people who don’t want the job—and burning out the ones who do.
  
• Measure psychological safety by layer, not as an org average. If middle managers are the lowest-scoring group, you have a structural bottleneck. Treat it like one.

Stop leaving your leaders home alone

Latchkey kids often grow into capable adults. They become resourceful, responsible, self-directed. They also learn how to carry too much without asking for support.

If your middle managers are struggling, it’s not because they’re weak. It’s because the organization is asking them to be the stable center of a system that won’t stabilize itself.

This is how execution quietly breaks: Priorities blur, feedback stops traveling upward, burnout rises, and the leadership pipeline thins right when you need it most.

Survival shouldn’t be the standard for your culture.

It’s time to stop leaving your middle managers home alone.

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