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)
