What happens psychologically when we give evidence under pressure?

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Andy Hobbs is a performance psychologist and Managing Director of Assurety. With decades of experience in performance psychology and a particular interest in how people respond under pressure, Andy brings a psychological perspective to the challenges witnesses face when giving evidence.

Here, he explores why cross-examination creates such a distinctive form of performance pressure, what happens psychologically in the moment, and what witnesses can learn from the world of high performance.

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As a performance psychologist with decades of experience in sport, both professionally and personally, I thought I understood pressure.

I knew how it felt, how it could hijack the body, and how it could impact performance. Then I began studying the psychological reality of giving evidence. Like most non-lawyers, my understanding of the legal system was shaped by television dramas and casual conversations. None of it prepared me for the reality. Being cross-examined can be an experience of acute, sustained performance pressure that has fundamentally deepened my understanding of human coping mechanisms.

Being a witness is tough. And it is unlike most other performance environments.

Part of the profound difficulty lies in a psychological trap: the context feels deceptively familiar. You are sitting in a room, using words to answer questions posed by another human. We do this every day. Yet, a cross-examination completely changes the rules of normal human interaction. You cannot control the direction of the conversation, you are there to answer rather than ask the questions, and you cannot simply choose to walk away when the experience becomes uncomfortable.

My legal colleagues often compare cross-examination to tennis:

“It’s tennis, not chess. Just hit the ball back, don’t plan ahead.”

This is a really helpful analogy for witnesses and it helps them. But I think it is also flawed. In tennis, you can try to win. You can return the ball with aggression, use tactics and physical flair. Those aren't the objectives of a witness. You are not there to outmanoeuvre the cross-examining barrister.

I think a hockey goalkeeper may be a more accurate analogy. You cannot score at the other end. Your role is to remain focused, respond to what comes at you and resist the temptation to become drawn into playing somebody else's game.

So, how does the pressure manifest?

First comes the pre-trial dread. The spiking anxiety, the obsessive scenario-mapping, the sleepless nights. When we prepare for an event with high stakes, the mental battle is fierce. Yet, as difficult as this pre-trial phase can be for a witness, it is at least familiar. The intensity may be dialled up, but the sensation of dreading a major event is territory most adults have navigated before.

The true shift in my understanding — and the part that genuinely intrigues me — is what happens psychologically in the heat of the moment.

In elite sport, pressure is often active. An athlete can channel adrenaline into movement, speed, and tactical aggression.

In the witness box, pressure is different. A witness may be experiencing significant internal stress while externally needing to remain composed, listen carefully and respond accurately. The cross-examiner controls the questions, the pace may change quickly and the witness's evidence is being subjected to forensic scrutiny.

That creates a very particular psychological challenge.

Redefining what it means to perform well

To manage that pressure, a witness has to redefine what "winning" means. It isn't about defeating an opponent. It isn't about anticipating where the questioning is going. And it isn't about persuading the barrister that you are right.

Success requires mental resilience, the ability to pause, and the discipline not to become drawn into an argument.

It demands an almost meditative, hyper-narrowed focus. The courtroom is full of potential noise: the barrister’s tone, the judge or tribunal, the significance of the case and the witness's own physical response to pressure.

To remain effective, the witness needs to filter those distractions and reduce their attention to a much smaller task:

Listen to the specific words being asked. Consider the question. Answer it accurately. Stop.

That sounds simple. Under sustained pressure, it can be extraordinarily difficult.

Focus on what you can control

This is ultimately a test of focus and of trusting the process. A witness cannot control the outcome of the case. They cannot control the approach of the barrister questioning them. They cannot control what the judge or tribunal ultimately decides.

What they can control is their response to the question in front of them.

Focusing on execution rather than consequences can reduce some of the psychological noise surrounding the experience and bring attention back to the task itself.

And while these skills are particularly important when giving evidence, their usefulness is much wider. Imagine navigating daily life with a greater ability to filter external noise, ignore distractions and focus on exactly what requires your attention.

Whether you are dealing with a difficult conversation, a shifting priority, or a chaotic day, the principle is similar: strip the situation back to its core, focus on what you can control and respond with deliberate intent.

How many times a day would that level of clarity change your outcome?

Witness preparation can certainly help someone prepare for the experience of giving evidence. But the mental discipline involved focusing on the present, managing pressure, filtering distraction and concentrating on what you can control has applications far beyond the witness box.

Andy Hobbs
Managing Director, Assurety | Performance Psychologist

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