One Team, One Voice: Unifying the Industry on Mental Health in Executive Protection
Abstract
Mental health in executive protection (EP) has too often been framed as a private struggle, something practitioners are expected to manage quietly and away from the workplace. The reality is far more complex. The relentless demands of constant vigilance, high-stakes responsibility, shifting between multiple roles and personas, and the personal sacrifices required make this not an individual issue but an industry-wide concern. For many operators, true disengagement from work feels nearly impossible. Even during supposed downtime, their minds remain tethered and tested, while personal relationships quietly strain under the weight of unrelenting vigilance. Over time, this imbalance erodes both professional effectiveness and personal well-being.
This article argues that mental health in executive protection should no longer be treated as an individual burden, but as a collective priority. Drawing on insights from practitioners, organizations, thought leaders, and published research, it becomes clear that there is a growing dialogue on this issue. The challenge is not a lack of concern but the failure to bring it forward as a core industry issue to digest and address. Greater transparency in Principal/Client–Protector relations can also create buy-in during contractual processes, allowing EP programs to integrate team-care practices from the outset. In doing so, executive protection can function as one team, amplifying diverse perspectives and creating a stronger call for systemic change and sustainability. Major corporations and technology firms already invest heavily in workplace mental health. The protection of those protecting these organizations should be held to the same standard.
Introduction
Executive protection professionals operate under extraordinary demands. The stakes are high, environments unpredictable, and the margin for error nearly nonexistent. Search the phrase “No Fail Industry” and executive protection will often appear. While the field emphasizes tactical readiness and discretion, the psychological dimension of protection work has long been neglected.
Practitioners enter the profession from diverse backgrounds: civilian careers, government service, EMS, law enforcement, and the military. Many are drawn to the role because it aligns with prior careers and provides financial stability. Others are motivated by prestige. Still others are driven by a warrior ethos to protect at scale, where even who they protect matters, because the mission must feel righteous and worth the risk. In all cases, the community has a duty to look out for its own.
The industry’s culture borrows heavily from military and government traditions, which serve it well operationally. Yet EP can also learn from progressive sectors such as Fortune 100 companies and major technology firms, where health and psychological safety are prioritized alongside readiness and capability (Cooper & Dewe, 2008).
In many Global Security Services divisions, mandated PTO and enforced time-off cycles are no longer seen as luxuries. They are recognized as operational necessities, ensuring that those who stand watch do so with clarity, energy, and judgment intact. The goal is not to burden operators with more bureaucracy, but to lighten the load in ways that preserve sustainable performance and sharpen mental acuity.
Recent contributions from industry voices underscore a growing recognition that mental health is not a matter of individual weakness, but a collective professional concern. Reflections on burnout (Austin, 2023), Ontic’s work on psychological safety (Ontic, 2023), and EPWired’s analysis of resilience (EPWired, 2023) all point to the same conclusion in the last couple of years, and the conversation around wellbeing in executive protection is finally breaking through, we hope.
The data reinforces this shift. Up to 40% of private security professionals report PTSD-related symptoms (ASIS International, 2023). For an industry largely composed of veterans of the military, law enforcement, and emergency services, the real prevalence is likely even higher. And executive protection is not confined to the ultra-high-net-worth circuit. Many operators rotate between corporate assignments, government contracting roles, and overseas high-threat deployments. Each environment carries its stresses, but together they form a career landscape where psychological strain is not an exception; it is the norm.
These converging insights highlight the need for a unified framework that treats protector well-being as an industry-wide responsibility. From clients determining the MSA or SOW level to team leads prioritizing operations over operators, care must be built in rather than bolted on reactively.
The Protector’s Calling vs. The Weight of Identity
For many, executive protection is not simply a career but a calling. The sense of duty runs deep: to safeguard, to anticipate, and to place another’s safety above one’s own. This mindset fuels resilience and sharpens performance under pressure. It is what separates a professional protector from someone merely standing post.
History provides examples of warrior societies where duty was inseparable from identity. Spartans in Ancient Greece were raised from childhood under the Agōgē to be soldiers. Samurai in feudal Japan were bound by Bushidō in honor and family name. Medieval knights trained from youth, and Zulu warriors under Shaka Zulu or Mongol horsemen defined their societies through service (Pressfield, 2011). This ethos persists in modern contexts. In the United States Marine Corps, every Marine is expected to be a rifleman first, regardless of specialty. The ethos of readiness and sacrifice creates a shared identity that transcends job descriptions.
Yet, behavioral psychology warns of role engulfment, a state in which one’s identity becomes consumed by a single role (McCall & Simmons, 1978; Ashforth, 2001). Detachment looks very different in executive protection compared to other professions. In this field, personal worth can become tethered almost entirely to performance: a mission completed without incident, a Principal kept safe, or validation from clients and peers. Over time, self-worth risks being reduced to the next assignment, or worse, to the absence of one that feels righteous and worthy of sacrifice. In this space, intangible forms of value such as trust, reputation, mission, and belonging often weigh heavily than tangible measures like pay or title.
This paradox means the very sense of purpose that makes protectors effective can also erode them. Research shows that vocational callings can inspire extraordinary commitment, but they also increase susceptibility to burnout when boundaries are blurred (Duffy et al., 2012; Bunderson & Thompson, 2009). EP culture amplifies this risk through constant vigilance and the expectation of sacrifice. As EPWired (2023) notes, protectors often struggle to “switch off,” with vigilance spilling into personal life and relationships. When the role is misunderstood by outsiders as “standing post,” the dissonance deepens.
Industry leaders must therefore recognize that the risks of over-identification are not abstract. Without boundaries, support systems, and acknowledgment, the very qualities that make an exceptional protector can also lead to personal collapse.
Isolation and Emotional Strain, Understaffing
Frequent travel and extended assignments separate agents from their families and communities, fueling emotional strain and depression. The widely debated “solo coverage model” places protectors in rigid states of heightened awareness for 12 to 16 hours on what is considered a normal day, with little chance for relief. Breaks are scarce, stress compounds, and duty of care quietly erodes.
Other high-risk fields already understand the dangers of solo work. Firefighters deploy in teams, paramedics in pairs, law enforcement officers patrol with partners, and aviation requires two pilots on deck not only for workload but also for safety (Kanki et al., 2019). The world’s elite demand redundancy for their own safety, choosing dual-engine aircraft, follow boats for sea travel, chase vehicles for motorcades. Pairs are recognized across industries as essential safety nets, yet the logic is often disregarded in security operations at a nuanced level. In contrast, solo EP coverage leaves protectors operating at the redline without backup.
The consequences are sobering. Seasoned professionals have walked away when expectations of sacrifice without support became intolerable. For the best protectors, the job is more than a paycheck; it is a calling. When that calling is dismissed or undervalued, burnout and disillusionment inevitably follow (Gentry & Sosik, 2010).
Research on first responders echoes these challenges. Trauma exposure, stigma around seeking help, and elevated risks of depression and substance misuse are well documented (Carleton et al., 2019). Executive protection faces similar realities, yet operators often carry the burden of medical and emotional support without equivalent organizational backing. The industry should adopt lessons already established in these fields, where staffing models and mental health frameworks are deliberately built into operations.
The Hidden Burden: Moral Injury and the Cost of Care
Executive protection often carries scars that remain unseen. In the military, “moral injury” refers to the distress caused when individuals perpetrate, fail to prevent, or witness actions that violate their moral code (Litz et al., 2009). While EP does not involve combat, the parallels are striking. Protectors may be asked to compromise ethical boundaries, prioritize reputational management over truth, or remain silent about dysfunction that places both teams and Principals at risk.
Statistics and frameworks illustrate the scale of mental health challenges in EP, but personal stories reveal the depth of what often goes unnoticed.
One such story emerges from a vetting process within a large-scale protection team. Candidates were assessed not only on operational performance in live operations and simulations but also through peer evaluation, creating a holistic approach designed to test both capability and compatibility.
Among them was an individual who had already worked with the team and knew several members from past details and military service. Their enthusiasm was palpable, and they loved being back with the team, which the team reciprocated. By all appearances, this individual was a near-guaranteed pick. Yet, when final selections were made, another candidate was chosen due to specialized skills and perceived fit.
Though the unselected candidate stayed in touch afterward, the devastating news soon arrived that they had taken their own life. Invisible scars had gone unnoticed. For one leader on the team, the aftermath was haunting: guilt, questioning whether the rejection played a role, the realization that operational needs had overshadowed emotional well-being, and the lingering of painful “what if” scenarios.
This individual had served many years in U.S. Air Force Pararescue (PJs), living by the motto “So Others May Live.” With only a few years in EP, they had also come from another program notorious for grinding down and discarding its people with little regard for their humanity. Others on the team had endured that same program as well, but failed to recognize that this new assignment might have represented the positivity and camaraderie he desperately craved. The tragedy was even harder to bear because this detail was, in fact, a strong, tight-knit team, one that valued cohesion and professionalism. The leaders cared and knew he did as well.
That shared history underscored a painful truth: what happened was not just about one selection decision, but about a recurring pattern of neglect across parts of the industry and likely personal and past struggles that remains unseen in career operators. Kellerman’s framing of “bad leadership” applies here, where ego, competition, or the bottom line take precedence over genuine care for people.
The tragedy forced the team to confront what executive protection must never lose sight of. The profession is not only about tactics, logistics, and risk management. It is equally about emotional intelligence, empathy, and collective care for those who stand shoulder to shoulder in protection. Protectors are responsible not only for the safety of Principals, but also for the well-being of their own teams. In striving to safeguard others, the industry can too easily fail to safeguard its own.
And in a profession as small and interconnected as EP, even seemingly minor issues can cut deep. Misrepresentation, unchecked gossip, and petty rivalries erode trust and magnify stress, even though protection is always a team sport when it matters most. Practitioners often feel pressured to affiliate with the “right” boards or associations, not because of meaningful standards but out of fear that the “wrong” choice may limit future opportunities. Equally, they may be warned to distance themselves from certain individuals, not for performance but to avoid guilt by association. What looks like trivial politics from the outside can carry disproportionate weight inside such a close-knit community. It is a fact, not fiction, that people can be negatively impacted by all of it.
The layers of this burden run deep, and the toll can be severe. Imagine a multi-year detail dissolving without acknowledgment, leaving operators discarded and families unprepared despite years of sacrifice. Vendor organizations often have the ability to care for and repurpose their most qualified agents, yet too often prioritize the bottom line instead. Turnover may be part of the business, but disingenuous disregard for those who carried the weight of protection should never be.
Research in healthcare shows that moral injury can fuel burnout, depression, and even suicide (Dean et al., 2019). Executive protection is no different. Without organizational mechanisms such as confidential counseling, structured after-action debriefs, or meaningful acknowledgment of sacrifice, the burden grows heavier, leading too often to disengagement or quiet exits from the profession.
Organizational Structures and Safety Climate
Organizational psychology introduces the concept of Psychosocial Safety Climate (PSC) — the degree to which a workplace demonstrates commitment to protecting psychological health. Strong PSC is consistently associated with reduced burnout, higher productivity, and lower absenteeism (Dollard & Bakker, 2010). Harvard Business School weaves psychological safety into its leadership curricula, underscoring that sustained performance across dynamic teams requires trust, open communication, and care for mental well-being (Edmondson, 2019).
For executive protection, the implications are clear. Applying PSC principles may include institutionalizing rest cycles, enforcing protected PTO, embedding routine mental health check-ins, and normalizing access to counseling services. When these structures are absent, the burden falls squarely on individuals, forcing them to silently manage risks to both performance and health while leaders quietly avoid the realities altogether.
Organizational climate communicates more than policies; it signals values. A strong safety climate tells operators they are trusted professionals and valued human beings. A weak one sends the opposite message: that they are expendable resources to both employee and protectee. The difference is not abstract. It determines whether an operator thrives in service of the mission or burns out and leaves the field altogether.
The Way Forward: One Team, One Voice
The path forward requires both cultural and structural change.
Culturally, executive protection must normalize conversations about mental health, dismantling the stigma that stress or fatigue signals weakness. This is especially critical in a profession where operators excel in high-stress environments yet often hesitate to acknowledge the personal toll.
Structurally, organizations must embed safeguards directly into operations, including but not limited to:
Staffing standards that eliminate unrealistic solo coverage on extended or high-risk assignments.
Mandatory recovery periods to prevent cumulative exhaustion.
Confidential counseling services tailored to the unique demands of EP.
Leadership accountability, ensuring clients and Principals understand their role in sustaining protector well-being.
None of this works without buy-in. When Principals and corporations recognize that protector well-being directly drives safety, decision-making, and resilience, and in turn safeguards the bottom line, investment in mental health frameworks becomes a shared priority rather than an afterthought.
The teamwork that defines field operations must also define how the industry treats its people. Silence carries a cost the industry can no longer afford.
One Team. One Voice. One Standard.
Conclusion
Mental health in executive protection cannot remain an individual burden. The profession’s deep sense of calling is both its strength and vulnerability. Without support structures, boundaries, and acknowledgment, the risks of burnout, moral injury, and role engulfment will deepen.
History shows warrior cultures thrived not only because of their ethos but also because of their systems of support and shared identity. Belonging was as important as bravery. Executive protection today demands the same recognition: protectors must be valued not only for their readiness to serve but also for their humanity beyond the mission.
The industry already has the data, the voices, and the research. The time has come to unify them into a collective response. Corporations invest heavily in their employee' well-being. Those entrusted with safeguarding human lives deserve the same care.
One team. One voice. One standard for resilience.
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