We Are Surrounded by Trust, but We Do Not See It

Challenging Misconceptions

Trust is not what we think it is. Just as we misread nature by seeing only competition, we misread trust by reducing it to simple choices: trust or don't trust.

When I say, "I trust my barista," what do I really mean? I trust him to make an espresso, but not manage my finances. Trust him to give me the correct change, but not babysit my children. This isn't about my barista being more or less trustworthy; it's about trust being far more complex than a single decision.

Misreading Trust as Binary

We treat trust like a switch: on or off, trust or distrust. But trust is more like an ecosystem, a matrix—a network of interdependent parts.

Think of a bank. I trust it to hold my money safely, process transactions, maintain privacy, provide accurate statements, and follow the law. Each of these relies on different capabilities, relationships, and systems of verification.

This complexity is even clearer in my dojo. When training partners trust each other, they're trusting a matrix of capabilities: technical skill, physical control, emotional regulation, situational awareness, and clear communication. If even one of these strands breaks, the trust matrix weakens.

The Jungle Analogy

In a previous article, I wrote about how we misread the jungle as purely competitive. We see the tiger hunting but miss the intricate web of cooperation that makes survival possible. The same tiger that hunts deer shows infinite patience teaching her cubs. Lions hunting together cooperate seamlessly, even as they fight rival prides.

Like the jungle's web of interdependence, trust is a matrix of interconnected capabilities. It's the same for my mundane morning coffee. I scroll through my phone, order coffee, and drive my old (2009!) Ford Focus—without noticing the vast networks of trust that make these acts possible.

My coffee? Thousands of people across continents trusted each other to coordinate its creation. Farmers trusted one another to grow and harvest. Shipping companies trusted sailors and schedules. Retailers trusted suppliers. Safety inspectors trusted their standards.

We rarely see these trust networks. Like breathing, we only notice trust when it's absent. A supply chain breaks, a payment fails, a standard is violated—and suddenly I get an assurance for "it's a bad world" theory. (OMG, my barista made a lousy espresso! this we notice!)

Each of these trust connections represents real people making real trustworthy decisions. Every component in our phones, every line of code, every standard and protocol required someone to trust someone else's competence, honesty, and reliability.

Technology isn't just silicon, CNC, code, materials. It's built on layers upon layers of trust.

Trust as a Matrix of Interconnected Capabilities

Trust isn't about the truth of a declaration. It's a matrix of interconnected truths, abilities, relationships, and systems. Each element supports the others, like a cloud that doesn't simply appear out of thin air—it requires water, vapor, and the right atmospheric conditions to form.

This interdependence is everywhere. There's a Buddhist concept that I like and helps me understand it: pratityasamutpada, or dependent origination. It points to how everything arises in dependence on other things—nothing exists in isolation.

In trust, as in life, everything depends on something else. A training partner's physical control depends on emotional regulation. Emotional regulation depends on clear communication, which depends on mutual understanding, which relies on technical knowledge—knowledge that circles back to support physical control. None of these capabilities functions in isolation. Together, they form a resilient, interconnected whole.

The jungle's law is not competition; it's cooperation. Trust, like interdependence, is the hidden matrix of life—especially modern life—connecting capabilities, actions, relationships, and distributed systems. I suggest that we learn to see it clearly, nurture it where it is broken, and scale it to meet the growing complexities of our world.