26 May 2025 – We are relational beings, constantly engaged in the exchange of information, meaning making and intricacies of imagining the future. Trust is foundational to these processes. On a microlevel, it shapes how we move through the world. On a macrolevel, it determines who is included in conversations, collaborations and communities – and who is left out. As the Italian sociologist Diego Gambetta notes, trust is essentially a bet on the future – “When we say we trust someone or that someone is trustworthy, we implicitly mean that the probability that they will perform an action that is beneficial or at least not detrimental to us is high enough for us to consider engaging in some form of cooperation”.
Today, we find ourselves in a world defined by heightened polarisation, institutional fragility and rapid technological change. The age of artificial intelligence has well and truly arrived—bringing awe, anxiety and uncertainty. In this climate, trust is quietly eroding—not only between individuals, but also between people and institutions and their intention and action. Sometimes the signs are ominous and sometimes it is subtle – a shift in tone, a delay in response or a hesitation to collaborate.
I first began to understand trust not through its presence, but through its absence. Nearly two decades ago as I started my career as a development sector professional, I joined an assessment team to evaluate India’s Right to Food campaign traveling through rural Uttar Pradesh in eastern India. I spent long hours with families living in extreme poverty – listening to mothers of malnourished children, observing midday meal delivery in schools, speaking to frontline health workers and tracing the gaps between policy and practice. I still remember visiting a small mud house where a woman had just delivered her sixth child with negligible medical care. She lay silent on a cot, her eyes vacant—as if staring into an abyss and unable to respond or care for herself, let alone her children. It was evident the household was malnourished in more ways than one.
In that stillness, I felt the weight of something far deeper than poverty. A quiet surrender and the fading of any expectation that someone—anyone—would show up. The state was absent in a place where it was urgently needed, and people were left to navigate life entirely on their own. Perhaps every breakdown of trust carries within it a kind of grief—a quiet mourning for what was once possible between people, or between citizens and the institutions meant to care for them. Where the 2025 Edelman Trust Barometer speaks of a rise in grievance, I often think of grieving. (Interestingly, both words share the same Latin root – gravis – meaning “heavy.” A grievance is a weight carried, much like grief.)
That moment made clear to me that trust is not just a value – it helps people make sense of complexities and deal with ambiguities. When trust dwindles, fear rules. It was from this place of witnessing that my deeper inquiry into the nature of trust began, especially in the context of collaborations forged to address sustainability challenges. Through my work with diverse actors like the government, civil society and business over the years, I have come to realise that though often (mis)used, trust is far from being just a feel-good sentiment. It is complex, multidimensional and deeply relational. It underpins the kind of social capital that enables sustained collaboration and is a critical condition for its success.
Based on my research on partnerships for sustainability transformations and practical experience, I can highlight six interrelated dimensions – from both cognitive (rational) and affective (emotional) perspectives – that illuminate what trust really entails:
- Reliability – Belief that the other party will consistently fulfil their commitments
- Reciprocity – Assumption of a fair and balanced exchange of value
- Benevolence – Sense that the other party genuinely cares for your wellbeing and benefit
- Competence – Confidence in the other party’s ability and expertise to deliver on its responsibilities
- Autonomy – Understanding that the other party will act in alignment with shared aims without constant oversight
- Recognition – Acceptance of each other’s vulnerabilities, contributions and identities
Curiously, the vulnerability dimension of trust is not often acknowledged or named explicitly. And yet, it lies at the very heart of what it means to trust. As human beings, we are inherently vulnerable. We may act as though we are self-sufficient and in control, but our very existence depends on others—on relationships, institutions, ecosystems. To acknowledge this is uncomfortable, because vulnerability is often mistaken for weakness. We talk about it and extol its virtues but rarely know what to do when we encounter it – in ourselves or in others.
The multibillion-dollar self-help industry would have us believe that we can survive and thrive on our own, and modern-day life encourages us to appear composed and self-contained. It is no surprise, then, that vulnerability is seen as a chink in the armour we try to conceal – forgetting, perhaps, that it is also the crack through which the light gets in.
What does this mean for the current world order or even for our ordinary lives? For starters, if we hope to build any kind of harmony across communities, sectors or borders, we need a generous dose of trust. And even if trust is not binary and cannot be implanted or enforced, we can certainly create the conditions in which it can take root and flourish. Consistent interaction where people come to understand one another’s intentions, capabilities and values is the nutrient that trust needs. Even the smallest seed of trust can open the door to communication and collaboration, signalling a willingness to engage.
In our uncertain and fragmented times, trust is like an invisible staircase that can help us climb toward dialogue, dignity and decency. As one of the finest Indian authors, Arundhati Roy once wrote, “Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.” Trust may not transform the world overnight, but it is what allows us to begin walking toward that world—one step, one conversation, one relationship at a time.
