Trust

"So you think you can't trust her?"

"mm hmmm ... yeah, you can say that."

"Considering the position you're in, that's intriguing...but I've never understood why you need to trust someone at all? I mean, what's the point?"

"Huh? What do you mean why? We all need to to be able to trust people, don't we? Isn't every meaningful relationship based on trust?"

"Yeah, that's what everyone says, but then probe a little and you find things are different."

"Different?"

"Yeah, different.

In my opinion, trust is, in some way, connected to expectation. There is a want, a need, to trust only when you want something in return. When you want nothing in return, there is no need to trust!"

"Huh? You just lost me there..."

"So what's new?... See, say you have a motorbike ok?"

"Ok..."

"It's 5 in the morning, it's freezing cold, and you have to get to some place in half an hour. And the only way to do it is by driving your motorbike there..."

"mmm hmmm..."

"...and this is a bike which you've shelled out a fortune to own. A bike you expect to conform to a certain level of performance. A bike you expect to come to life when you kick it on a cold morning, when it's freezing and when you have barely enough time to make an appointment; you expect, you trust the bike to start..."

"Of course, but..."

"...and when it doesn't, you feel let down. You're disappointed. You curse the bike, you bad-mouth the maker...all because you expected the bike to perform..."

"And what's wrong with that? After all I have invested so much on it haven't I?"

"Exactly. You have invested so much on the bike, you expect it to perform, you trust it to start when you need it the most, and when it doesn't you feel disappointed."

"So? I still don't see what you're getting at..."

"I'm trying to tell you that trust, of any form, invested in anything, demands from the object of its attention an emotional fulfillment; a satisfaction that the object was worth the trust..."

"Yes, I think you could say that."

"But apply the same analogy to people, keeping the emotional satisfaction part of it out of the picture -- have you ever asked why you need that emotional satisfaction at all with people and why you would want to trust them?"

"Huh?"

"Say you have a secret. Now you can do one of two things, apart from not telling anyone about it. Declassify it as a secret by revealing it to everyone. Or, confide in a friend, trusting him to keep your secret, expecting him not to divulge it. Now when he keeps your secret safe, you get the satisfaction that the trust you invested in him was not in vain. Or when he doesn't, you get disappointed and lose your faith in him."

"That makes sense, but still don't see what you're tring to say"

"When I shifted the analogy to people, I invalidated a fundamental assumption that is implicit in something like a bike.

A bike, like most machines -- within their working lives -- is not expected to deviate from its expected norm of performance, at least within tolerable limits. And unlike people, it's possible to know everything about a bike, take it apart, analyse it in detail, put things back in place, get it working again, and reinstate your trust in it.

But when it comes to people, firstly, it depends on your own faculties as to how well you can judge people. And even when you can judge them well, it's only with respect to those aspects of their behaviour which you have had an opportunity to observe in the context of certain circumstances. And secondly, people are notoriously prone to change, it's in their nature, it's the only way human beings, being creatures subject to varying emotions, thrive. So when you are not a good judge of people -- I believe nobody ever can be -- and when people are going to change so much, you have two courses of action if you don't want to be disappointed..."

"Hmm which are?"

"...you either trust everyone, expecting nothing out of them, in which case you can no longer call it trust; or you could decide not to trust anyone and not reveal anything at all, thereby totally eliminating the need to want something in return. Either way, don't expect anything out of people."

"But isn't that just being self-defensive?"

"No, it's just being logical..."

"Ah, this sophistry is nice when it comes to trivialities like secrets, but how about a practical situation -- say at work? Don't you need to trust people there?"

"Here again, you are depending on the power of money implicitly. You trust that when you give someone X amount of money to do a good job, you trust the power of money to ensure that the job is done well. Of course, secondary causes like emotional satisfaction, personal growth and loyalty also play a role in the quality of the work done, but that is entirely a personal trait. You as an employer have no control over it. In fact, you have no control over the person's behaviour; he could do an excellent job, or he could contract the mad cow disease overnight, go insane and leave you in a quandary. The only expectation here is what you have out of the money that you offer, and money, like a bike, is a non-living thing whose 'performance' is established, something whose power you can trust not to change."

"But don't employers, who invest so much in an employee, have a right to expect what they want in return?"

"Of course they do, but for that they don't have to trust their employees. Because trust or no trust, the employee doing the job well depends on how much the money means, or doesn't mean, to him."

"So what's your point?"

"That even when it comes to work, there is no point in trusting people, and when I say trust, I mean expecting something in return. Rather, trust your money. If you're going to trust people, then be prepared to be disappointed."

"Ok ... but what about love? What about marriage?"

"What do you do when you love someone? Love itself is just an idea, an abstract one at that. But let me stick to the conventional meaning of it.

Conventionally, when you 'love' someone, you expect a lot in return -- like you want to be loved back, and in certain situations, through the love that you offer that person, you impose on him/her certain implicit demands, like loyalty for example, though this need not be the case always.

And it's precisely because you have invested so much love, so much emotion in that person, and because you want all this (loyalty etc) in return, that you trust the person to accept your love and not to act in a way which would cause you disappointment and hurt. And you do all this thinking you know how the person is on the inside and thinking he/she won't change, when we very well know that they are going to change.

So, when you stick to the conventional meaning of 'love', it means 'trust' which in turn implies you want something in return.

But if you would care to delve deeper into the meaning of love, if you seek the truth, you would learn that you love someone for what they are, for what they stand for, for the way they make you feel in a certain way about yourself, about them and about the world. And not because you want something in return. And when you love someone like that, it really doesn't matter what they do, what they say, whether they hurt you or not, because you would always understand.

This, to me, is unconditional love, the love that you possess for someone without expecting anything in return. This is different from another form of 'unconditional love' some talk about, where you love someone without cause or reason.

The love I'm talking about is the form of love that a father has for his daughter or a son for his mother; you just love them for what they are, you don't expect anything in return. And when you love without expecting anything in return, there really is no need to trust is there?"

"But there is something wrong in what you say ... since you say people change, and if you love someone for what they are, for what they stand for, when they change from what they are and become someone different, someone whom you don't like, someone who doesn't make you feel the same way as they used to before, what then? Would you still love them?"

"I would neither love them nor hate them. I would just become indifferent."

"Even if they were your parents?"

"Even if they were my parents...because that's the only way the love I feel for them would have any meaning."

"How is that possible?"

"Precisely because I didn't expect anything in return. And since I would love them for what they are, when they change into someone different, I can walk away unaffected because I didn't want anything in return for my love for them. I would accept and understand that they have changed.

And I would also accept that my love for them is no longer valid because it was spawned by what I saw in them before; not loving them for what they have now become is the only way I can lend value to the love I would offer to others. And I would not hate them; I would just become indifferent.

And if my love is capable enough, then it would seek those who are worthy of it, those who would change, but only within their tolerable limits, like the bike, those whom I wouldn't have to trust but just love, those who wouldn't expect anything in return from me and just love me for what I am and those whom I would love for what they are without expecting anything in return."

"But by saying that your love for them is based on them not changing into someone whom you would not like, aren't you expecting the 'not changing' aspect of them in return for your love? Aren't you, by loving them, trusting them not to change?"

"Yes, but it is not an expectation in the usual sense; if that expectation is not fulfilled, I would not be disappointed because I don't derive any emotional satisfaction from them not changing. Again, the 'change margins' are different. When someone says 'I love humanity' the 'change margin' is huge; when someone tells his/her partner 'I love you', the 'change margin' is highly specific."

"But isn't that a contradiction? Is love not an emotional satisfaction?"

"No. Love could be called an emotion, but there isn't any satisfaction or disappointment associated with it."

"But isn't love by itself a form of trust?"

"That, my friend, is the point.

Love is not trust. Love just is. It exists for the sake of itself.

Love is based on the 'not changing' aspect. However, I don't have to 'trust'. I don't 'expect' anything which would bring me emotional satisfaction; I don't expect 'anything' which, when I don't receive, would cause me disappointment.

But trust isn't; trust never is; trust needs that something, that emotional fulfillment, in return to sustain itself.

When it comes to filial relationships, the 'change margins' are pretty much non-existent, anything goes, and it takes a great deal before the love -- for our parents, for our siblings -- vanishes. But when it comes to someone we want to spend our lives with, or our friends, we somehow are more stringent; we expect a lot in return, we are looking for someone to trust, looking for someone to hang onto in an ever-shifting world, for someone to vindicate our existence...we are not looking for someone to love, we don't want to give our love unconditionally.

We want security, we are happy to seek refuge in the inferority of need and trust, rather than celebrate the glory of love and the freedom of not having to trust."

"That somehow doesn't make sense to me."

"It never does. All of us have to figure it out for ourelves. We have to, some day or the other..."

"But I still don't think I can trust her..."

"I can only wish you good luck, my friend."