By Brian Schaeffer
It’s happened to most of us — even those who won’t admit it. You’re managing a complicated incident, people are congregating around you, wanting an assignment with their radios feeding back, media pushing for information, and you are cold. Someone runs up to you and asks, “Did you hear that traffic!?!” You didn’t. Not because you weren’t paying attention, not because you weren’t competent, but because your brain simply did not process it. That’s auditory exclusion. And if you’re leading an incident from the front yard or outside of a vehicle, that radio traffic you didn’t hear might be the difference between just losing the fire or losing a firefighter.
We don’t talk about this enough in our command training. Understanding auditory exclusion and, more importantly, building systems that account for it, isn’t about perfection. It’s about protecting your people. It’s about managing the chaos that comes with complicated and complex incidents with the clarity that the job demands. For incident commanders, this starts with rethinking where and how we manage incidents.
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What is auditory exclusion?
Auditory exclusion is a physiological stress response. When the sympathetic nervous system kicks in — the same system responsible for our fight-or-flight reaction — it can suppress non-essential sensory input, including hearing. You’re not going deaf. Your brain is simply prioritizing what it thinks you need to survive. Tunnel vision, tactile input and time distortion all occur, and hearing takes a back seat (van Winsum, 2019).
For people in high-consequence jobs like public safety and aviation, this isn’t theoretical. Studies show that under high stress, heart rates climb above 175 bpm, and at that threshold, auditory exclusion is common (Grossman and Christensen, 2008). The body shuts down “distractions” in favor of processing the immediate threat. It’s an evolutionary design meant to keep you alive — but it doesn’t help you hear a mayday on Ops 1 while you have incoming messages on the cell phone and Dispatch contacting you on another talk group.
And that’s the catch: Stress narrows your focus exactly when your span of awareness should be widening.
Why it matters for the IC
When we assign an incident commander, particularly at working structure fires, we’re asking one person to maintain big-picture awareness over a fast-moving, high-risk environment. That means tracking resources, anticipating conditions, verifying accountability and making split-second decisions on tactical assignments. But suppose that IC is standing outside, exposed to flashing lights, radio chatter, emotional distractions, crew questions, media behind the tape, and physical hazards. How can we reasonably expect them to perform at their best?
I’ve seen seasoned ICs manage a fire from the gravel next to the A-side while distracted by yelling neighbors, falling glass and interior crews breaking windows. It’s a badge of honor in our culture — the “tactical commander,” close to the action, eating smoke and in touch with the troops. We have all made that mistake and some have even institutionalized it. But we have to ask ourselves, are we helping or hurting when we manage incidents that way?
Compare that to an IC seated inside a vehicle with the windows up, doors closed, two radios monitored through headsets, a mobile CAD terminal open, and a command aide seated beside them. Silent, focused on the situation, and professional — that’s a sterile cockpit.
Multitasking is a myth
Let’s be clear about something we often get wrong in the fire service: There’s no such thing as multitasking. Not the way we think of it. Neuroscience has shown that the human brain doesn’t actually perform multiple cognitive tasks at the same time. What we do is task switch, jumping rapidly from one thing to another (Medina, 2014) — and every switch carries a cost.
That cost is exceptionally high when you’re listening for information. We don’t process overlapping radio messages the way a computer does; we don’t even process two different talk groups well if they’re coming in through the same speaker. Our brain picks one and suppresses the other. Every time we shift attention — from the tactical channel, to a phone call, to face-to-face conversation — we introduce the opportunity to miss something critical.
Following the aviation industry’s lead, building a cockpit that supports attention is mission-critical.
Building the cockpit — not just sitting in it
A sterile cockpit isn’t just a quiet car. It’s a command environment built to preserve the incident commander’s cognitive bandwidth. And like everything in fireground operations, it takes thoughtful design and practice.
The good news is, we already have tools to help:
- Headsets reduce ambient noise and help isolate simultaneous talk groups.
- Command aides act as second sets of ears and eyes, logging assignments, monitoring comms and catching what the IC might miss.
- Divisions and groups distribute control, reducing the volume and content of messages that must go directly to command.
- ICS sections (Operations, Planning and Logistics) command team to grow with the complexity of your incident that can allow correct focus and supervision where the work is getting done
These aren’t just bureaucratic boxes on a form; they’re human talent that can be leveraged to assist the IC in doing the impossible. They let each person manage five or fewer things well, instead of 15 things poorly.
But technology can just as easily work against us. We’ve seen incident command dashboards, mobile apps and CAD terminals that overwhelm rather than clarify. The answer isn’t more screens, it’s better filtering. Give the IC or Ops Section Chiefs what they need to see, hear and act on. Strip the rest.
From helmet to headset — where the IC belongs
This isn’t an argument against knowing your people or being visible. But it is a call for professional discipline. Being outside the buggy might feel more “in the fight,” but that’s not where we need our IC. We don’t need the IC directing hose streams; we need someone who can see the entire theater.
Yes, there’s value in walking the scene early or talking directly with the first-due company. But once command is established and the operation expands, the IC belongs in the cockpit, documenting assignments, tracking accountability and being 100% mentally available to receive a mayday call or make decisions on strategy, resources and risk.
And let’s be honest — firegrounds are loud, chaotic and distracting. The outside world doesn’t stop when you put on the vest. Kids scream, glass breaks, crews yell over each other on the radio. In that environment, auditory exclusion isn’t just possible; it’s probable.
Final thoughts
The job of IC is one of the most cognitively demanding roles in the fire service. We have tools to help like ICS, headsets, aides, MDCs, preplans, etc. But none of that matters if the person in command can’t hear the call for help, or worse, never realizes they missed it.
Auditory exclusion is real. Task switching isn’t efficient. Cognitive bandwidth is finite and is easily overwhelmed. These aren’t flaws, they’re facts. We can’t ignore them just because they make us uncomfortable or challenge tradition.
The sterile cockpit gives us a chance to manage an incident with focus and clarity. If we say that life safety is our number one priority, then we owe it to our people to give the IC the best shot at managing it — not from the front yard or back of the buggy but rather from the quiet, focused and protected space where life-and-death decisions deserve to be made.
REFERENCES
- Grossman, D., & Christensen, L. W. (2008). “On Combat: The Psychology and Physiology of Deadly Conflict in War and in Peace” (2nd ed.). Warrior Science Publications.
- Medina, J. (2014). “Brain Rules: 12 Principles for Surviving and Thriving at Work, Home, and School.” Pear Press.
- van Winsum, W. (2019). “Optic Flow and Tunnel Vision in the Detection Response Task.” Human Factors, 61(6), 992–1003.
