Trust Has Become a Hot Topic—But What Do We Understand By It?

29/01/2009
Mike Smith

President Barak Obama referred in his inaugural address to the necessary trust between government and the people. The issue of trust—in human relationships and in the global economy—has become central to the way the world should work. Powerful voices are saying so.

Take, for instance, William J Amelio, President and CEO of the computer manufacturing giant Lenovo. In an interview for the World Economic Forum in Davos, he says, ‘I believe we will emerge from this [economic] crisis by working together and by working on restoring the lost trust and transparency that led to this crisis…. We need to absolutely avoid things that fuel distrust… a disintegration of trust led us to the current economic crisis…. The best-performing companies are those that have transparent and honest operating principles and abide by them… A strong audit function ensures your values and principles are practiced consistently. The basic principle is one of trust—of demonstrating at all levels of your organization why you can and ought to receive the privilege of trust from others.’ He concludes by saying, ‘Our best leaders at Lenovo are those that have a solid moral compass…. take the long term view, and treat their fellow employees with dignity and respect.’

Then under the main headline, ‘A loss of trust, integrity and common sense’, Keith Farman writes in the Letters page of The Times, London (24 January 2009): ‘Without trust there can be no free, fair and stable trade. The current crisis in the world financial system is ascribed to a lack of confidence but in truth the cause is deeper—no less than the loss of trust.’ He continues that, ‘The exchangers of mankind’s goods—material and financial—must recover their own sense of honour, moral principle and integrity upon which every fair trade is based…. Without a general ethos of self-control, personal integrity and honesty, Main Street, Wall Street and our British equivalents will not earn the trust they should deserve.’ He concludes by saying that the City (the financial heart of London), ‘needs to embrace the deeper philosophy: that ethical principals apply equally to the generation of wealth, not merely its disposal.’

It was unfortunate that a ‘strong audit function’, referred to by Amelio, was missing from the Indian outsourcing company Satyam—a name that means truth in Sanskrit. The company’s founder resigned recently after confessing to fraud in the company’s accounting; he has, allegedly, artificially inflated the balances by $1 billion. Questions are now being asked why the company’s auditors, PriceWaterhouseCoopers, never spotted the fraud.

A deeper question also lies in what is meant by trust. As Nick Spencer points out in his excellent booklet Rebuilding trust in business (Grove Books), there are two broad components of trust. The first is the contractual basis: the written agreements that we sign between individuals and organizations, covering things like employment, purchasing and financial contracts, and adequate accounting and auditing procedures (so lacking in the subprime mortgage market and subsequent banking scandals), and which are backed up by the rule of law. Secondly, there is the ‘covenant’ basis of trust: the promises that we make to each other and are dependent on individual honesty and integrity.

Writing in the Credo column of The Times (24 January 2009), Britain’s Chief Rabbi, Sir Jonathan Sacks, says: ‘There is a fundamental difference between contracts and covenants. In a contract, two or more individuals, each pursuing their own interest, come together to make an exchange for mutual benefit. When we pay someone to do something for us, implicitly or explicitly we make a contract.’ He continues: ‘A covenant is something different. In a covenant, two or more individuals, each respecting the dignity and integrity of the other, come together in a bond of mutual responsibility to do together what neither can achieve alone. It is not about interest but about loyalty, fidelity, holding together when events seem to be driving you apart. A covenant is less like a deal than like a marriage: it is a moral bond.’

The global movement Initiatives of Change emphasizes in its ‘shop window’—its websites and mission statements—that it aims to ‘build relationships of trust across the world’s divides’. This focuses primarily on the Chief Rabbi’s and Nick Spencer’s second definition of trust rather than the first: the need for honesty, unselfishness, love for individuals and purity of motive, free from exploitation or greed, as the human basis for trust, and which make us trustworthy as individuals. But there is also the recognition that, venal and cruel human nature being what it is, we all fall short of the ideal. So forgiveness—both seeking and giving it, even in utterly excruciating circumstances—also has to be central to notions of trust building. Without it cycles of hatred and revenge cannot be broken.

Finally there is the one who is always trustworthy. ‘In God we trust’ is the national motto of the USA. The phrase is even printed on the nation’s currency, though we have too often made a god of the bank notes and coins on which the phrase is printed. This has got us into a lot of trouble. As Paul of Tarsus reminds us, ‘The love of money is the root of all evil.’ It has been certainly true in the global banking and economic crisis. But that has fundamentally been an issue of misplaced trust.

Initiatives of Change and its forerunners have emphasized, over many decades, that the inspiration that comes from the ‘still, small voice within’, which awakens our consciences and stirs us into action and initiative, is fundamentally trustworthy. And our trustworthiness grows as we find a deep trust in the God who guides and transforms. In so doing we also find that building trust is essential to creating the partnerships, coalitions and cooperation needed to solve the great global issues—climate change, sustainable development, economic and social justice and the needed partnership of civilizations.

Michael Smith is the author of ‘Trust and Integrity in the Global Economy’ and a coordinator in the UK of Caux Initiatives for Business.

NOTE: Individuals of many cultures, nationalities, religions, and beliefs are actively involved with Initiatives of Change. These commentaries represent the views of the writer and not necessarily those of Initiatives of Change as a whole.

 

Trust

Submitted by Kevin Scott on Fri, 30/01/2009 - 09:34.

Thank you for your thoughtful commentary on the two broad components of trust, contractual and covenant. I suggest there is a third important component, familial trust. I was one of four sons. Our father often drank heavily. My family could rarely be confident of his behaviour, especially within the privacy of the home.

Sadly I could never truly trust my father, until the end. When he died of sclerosis of the liver, aged 57, I could at long last view him from an adult perspective. Sometimes it seems I was seeing my father when looking in a mirror. The words of William James finally resonated in my life; “The greatest revolution in our generation is the discovery that human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives.”

We all know that children are helpless and vulnerable, entirely dependent on adults for survival. We also know that many millions of adults throughout the world are helpless and vulnerable under dictators, war lords, ruthless leaders and, dare I say, in some democracies.

The need for “honesty, unselfishness, love for individuals and purity of motive” must begin at home, the nursery for growing “moral bonds”. Unless those ideals flourish in the privacy of homes they cannot be relied upon to take root in the world.

Last week, in a writing course, we were asked to write a fairy tale in a modern context. I would like to share mine with you.

Jack and the Giant

Once upon a time in a thriving village near the sea lived a shy, impressionable little boy named, Jack. He was not one for pushing to the front and was never invited to join other children in their games.

One day a fisherman returned from the sea, his boat heavily laden, but he was white with fear. Villagers rushed to hear what happened. Was it a storm? A sea monster? The fisherman said he went far along the coast to cast his nets and saw a Giant building a house. Villagers were astonished. How can that be. Giants lived across the sea. But not here. This is our land, isn’t it? Doesn’t all the land belong to us? They muttered. There were heated discussions about what to do. They decided to do nothing, for the time being. The Giant might leave them alone or move on. No one suggested the Giant might be too large to drive away.

Jack listened intently from the edge of the crowd. The following day, unusually curious, Jack boldly said he would get the measure of the Giant. He walked for hours along the coast and finally saw a tall structure rising above trees far from the shore. He cautiously crept closer and caught his breath when he saw a huge Giant building a house. The Giant was at least twenty times larger than Jack.

Jack made sure he was well hidden then shouted, “Go away! This is our land,”

The Giant turned in the direction of the small voice then spoke in a thunderous roar, “I have no where else to go. I come in peace.”

Jack could hardly believe his ears. That’s not what Giants are expected to say. They are supposed to be monsters. Jack studied the Giant’s face – big, but not ugly. Maybe this Giant is not so frightening after all. Jack felt tempted to provoke the Giant. He picked up a stone, carefully aimed and threw it as hard as he could. It struck the Giant on the leg. The Giant smiled at the slight annoyance. “That didn’t hurt,” he said, “but please don’t provoke me. I have much work to do.”

Jack smiled, satisfied the Giant is not really a threat. He returned to his village. To his surprise people were eager to hear what happened. Nobody heeded him in the past. His eyes brightened as he recounted the confrontation. He embellished the story. Telling how he outwitted the Giant. When he finished the villagers applauded his courage and daring. The story was fixed thereafter in everyone’s mind. Now all the children wanted Jack to be on their side in games. Jack’s self esteem grew and blossomed.

Time passed. Jack gained a wide reputation as a strong man, a leader, a warrior, by regularly harassing the Giant who, although annoyed, tolerated the inconvenience. He wanted to live in peace.

Villagers believed Jack when told the Giant humiliated him, belittled him because of his size. Other young men dreamt of becoming heroes like Jack. They joined ranks. News of their cause spread. People from villages far and wide offered their support. The Giant became the focus of people’s hatred.

When the house was complete the Giant was content, apart from the constant barrage of sticks and stones from his neighbours. He took a wife. They had several children, who were also attacked. The last straw. He marched to the troublesome village and roared, “Enough. I will no longer tolerate your sticks and stones.” With that he raised one foot, brought it down with a thud that shook the entire village. Four houses were flattened. The Giant retreated. Villagers were stunned. They gathered around Jack. “What will you do now?” They cried. Jack, in desperation, looked to the heavens. “God will give me strength to defeat our enemy,” he proclaimed. The villagers were impressed.

An appeal to God had been considered many times in the past. Older men cautioned against it, reminding them that all people and all things were part of God’s creation. Even Giants. How could they expect God to destroy what He lovingly created?

Jack knew what the elders said. But a voice in his head spoke louder, “I am more powerful than God. Follow me. I will vanquish all your enemies.” The voice in Jack’s head was strong. Convincing. He urged his followers to believe the voice he heard was the true God. They willingly believed.

Attacks on the Giant and his family increased. They were being driven into the sea. The Giant lost patience. He and his sons returned to the village and trampled it into the ground. Many men, women and children perished. Promises of support to help rebuild the village flooded in from far and wide.

Elders went into the wilderness. That night they sat around a fire discussing every option. Some wanted to fight to the end. Others wanted to negotiate a lasting peace. Some thought they should refuse all offers of help, arguing that Jack and his followers brought this disaster upon the village and should be held to account. They fell silent. One looked at Abraham, the oldest man in the village.

“You have not spoken, Abraham.”

Villagers thought Abraham was at least one hundred and forty years of age, but no one could be certain. He was slight of frame, with long flowing white hair and beard. Abraham continued to stare into the fire, reflections of flames dancing and glistening in his eyes.

“My thoughts are deeply disturbing,” Abraham said quietly.

“Tell us,” someone said.

Without lifting his eyes, he said, “No one has spoken of compassion. I fear we no longer recognize the symptoms of a spreading disease.”

The men looked at each other with puzzled expressions. “What disease?” They asked.

Light faded from Abraham’s eyes as he spoke. “Insanity.”

They sat in silence. The last ember in the fire flickered and died.

© 2009, Kevin Scott