Saturday, January 19, 2019

Rules vs. Trust


Rules and laws are inversely proportional to trust: more rules indicate less trust, while a greater level of trust is indicated by a relative absence of rules. 
Rules and laws usually come about in reaction to a hurtful interaction within a group, or to prevent its happening (again). Our United States Constitution was intended to prevent replication of the monarchial tyranny the colonists fled and against which they rebelled. The Constitution essentially limits government by establishing boundaries beyond which it may not go; but within which it is free to act.
Two ideologies clashed at the Constitution Convention. Situational revisions aside, those two groups continue today. They were born in animosity and that animosity has increased. It’s amazing that the Constitution got finished![1]
One group bore an unqualified distrust of government, but trusted individuals to be responsible and ethical in their dealings. They stumped for minimal central government, preferring to give more power to state and local governing bodies. That perspective is extended into today’s conservative political system.
The other group distrusted the integrity of individuals, especially in regard to unregulated commerce and banking. They advocated a stronger central governmental regulation against the threat of economic oligarchy . Today’s liberal principles emerged from that foundation.
Both ideologies remain virtually absolute, with neither crediting anything good to the other. Few, if any, voices call for acknowledging any good in both, and there is an ominous absence of any effort to find common ground on which to build consensus on anything. No political balance or trust is to be found.
Rules and laws are meant to restrict the influence of whatever entity is mistrusted. The power pendulum swings from left to right, and back. Endless partisan adjustments to and rescinding of laws, and the institution of more laws are meant to shackle the mistrusted “other party.” The result today is a convoluted system of laws, many of them self-contradictory, which transcends most human comprehension.
But, lack of comprehension does not discourage the hostile debates that indicate a gross decrease in trust and a consequent need for power and control.
In a pioneering study in group dynamics, Jack Gibb and others named four primary concerns for evaluating the level of trust within a group’s culture. The concerns determine the level of trust formation,[2] regardless of the group’s size. The following graph offers a visual guide to understanding the aforementioned concerns:
Primary Concern
Derivative Concern
Symptoms of Unresolved Concern
Symptoms of Resolved Concern
Acceptance
Membership
Fear/Distrust/exclusion
Acceptance/Trust
Information Flow
Decision-making
Politeness/caution/
Strategy (often secretive or behind-the-back)
Spontaneity/feedback
Goal Formation
Productivity
Apathy/Competition (silencing innovation)
Enthusiasm/Creative work
Control
Organization
Dependency/
Counterdependency that challenges for leadership
Interdependence/role
distribution

In my opinion the dynamics in the column labeled “Symptoms of Unresolved Concern” is a portentous description of our beloved United States of America.
So, what is the source of the mistrust, and how do we overcome it?
I suggest the mistrust is a product of hurtful experiences in our past. As a child I was pulled off my bicycle and chewed on by a big dog and, to this day I grow anxious when a big dog approaches me. I’ve learned compensatory behaviors to defuse any threat; but the mistrust is still present—until a relationship is built.
If building a relationship is key to overcoming mistrust, some concerns must be considered. Trust, by definition involves risk. So does love, which I believe should be the ultimate goal and intention of all human interaction.
Trust and love require—indeed, they are defined by—vulnerability. There is risk of betrayal and rejection. The alternative is to insulate oneself from betrayal and grief, but the payoff is fear and distrust. So I repeat: trust and love require—indeed, they are defined by—vulnerability.
A second concern in building trust is re-learning the lost art of listening. I’m not sure I could be a good listener had I not had extensive training in counseling and in conflict resolution. Even with the training and years of experience, it doesn’t always come naturally. Often, I have to be intentional about flipping on the “LISTEN” switch. 
Nevertheless, listening is a key requirement for building trust. Evidence is rampant on social media that people don’t really listen—not even when the message is written in clear script. Instead of listening, they are preparing their rebuttal (even though they may not—probably don’t—really know what’s been said). How many times, while reading a Facebook conversation, have you discovered, within relatively few exchanges, the focus has been diverted totally from the original topic.
Someone posts about compassion for the poor, and within two or three responses the conversation is diverted to how liberals are shoving a welfare state down our throats. The diversion kills a conversation that may have led to a charitable proposal acceptable to all concerned. And mistrust, if anything, has increased, along with animosity.
Or a Facebook conversation about illegal immigration is diverted to a condemnation vs. defense of President Trump’s wall. The conversation might—might—have been more productive if the responders had listened and stayed on the subject, which probably was a concern for national security and public safety. If the responders wanted to pontificate against the wall, they would be better advised to start their own conversation. But, then, in all likelihood that conversation would be diverted, too.
How on earth can we build trusting relationships if I don’t really know what you’re saying, and you don’t know what I’m saying? Without that knowledge, we’re left to assumption and opinion, neither of which is trustworthy.
At the infamous bottom line, while there is risk in trusting, there also is risk in listening. If I really hear you, I risk learning something new; indeed, I may hear something that requires me to reconsider previous convictions. 
But, then, that would mean I’d have to admit I am, at least partially, wrong—that my opinions are not absolute. And that may be the greatest risk of all.
That’s the way I see it through the Flawed Glass that is my world view.
Together in the Walk,
Jim

[1] In many ways, it’s not finished, even yet. As a living document it is adjusted according to ongoing needs.
[2] Leland P. Bradford, Jack R. Gibb, and Kenneth D. Benne, editors, T-Group Theory and Laboratory Method (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1964)  

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