Trust… it’s what all our lives are built on from the day we are born. Over our lives we build trust in our parents, family and friends, other people, organisations and the systems and rules that govern our every breathing moment. Our relationships are all built on trust. And it’s built into the language we use in the charity sector. We are ‘trustees’ of this venerable old institution.
But as we get older and wiser, we also have to develop a sixth sense to sometimes be a little sceptical. Things are not always as they immediately appear. We have to become streetwise, if you like. Ultimately, we have to trust ourselves; our own instincts.
However, from when we are quite young, we also learn to lie normally to cover up for something we shouldn’t have done. Or sometimes what we should have done and didn’t. Quite often we fear the consequences of the misdemeanour more than the consequences of the lie to cover up the original behaviour.
Personally, I get far more upset about any cover up than the original error of judgment. We all make mistakes. But it’s a difficult balancing act. Given we know that we sometimes lie ourselves, where do we draw the boundaries? Lying is largely a matter of context I suppose.
When that trust is eroded it can hit our confidence and perception of the world. I know from experience, how easy it is to lock yourself away and not want to engage when that happens, but ultimately there is little alternative. In order to survive, we have to get back out there, connect, interact, and try to trust again and manage our expectations.
Perhaps that’s why we sometimes feel more at ease when we commune with nature. There’s an honesty about the natural world, although even that is prone to human influence.
I always think the difference between actors and politicians is that we know actors are lying to us but are willing to suspend disbelief to believe the story they are telling. With politicians we suspect they are lying but don’t want to suspend disbelief – we just want the truth. The irony is we are generally willing to trust the actor, who we know is ‘lying’, more than the politician.
And our whole financial system is built on trust. Our banknotes contain the phrase ‘I promise to pay the bearer on demand the sum of…’ The value we ascribe to things is based on our belief and trust in the currency, the value of the items that it can buy and our own perception of their value. I’ve always had a difficulty with being ‘sold to’ although our whole economy is based on convincing people to buy our labour to deliver goods and services, so we are all part of it.
My son was diagnosed with autism when he was just 2 years old (he’s now 25) and some of his behaviour fundamentally changed the way I looked at the world. Autistic people find it far more difficult to lie. There’s a straightforwardness to their perception of the world. They take things far more literally. And the honesty can be disarming.
When he was about 10 years old, we sent him to the shops with £5 to buy some groceries but he came back with nothing, not even the £5. He said the note wasn’t going into the self- service machine (the ones people used to use before cashless was introduced). He was told by an assistant it was no good, but the assistant didn’t tell him that he could use it at a till. My son screwed up the £5 and threw it away. We believed him.
As a parent, you seek to impart your wisdom and knowledge, but the reality is they also must learn from experience. And love and trust go both ways. I think I have probably learnt as much from him as he has from me. A generational thing perhaps – which I will explore next time…