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Musings on the prevalence of low trust in our society
Mango season has come and gone, but the one thing that hasn’t gone is the relationship I established with an elderly woman who sells fruits in my area. I kid you not, but I must have bought mangoes from her every other day while the season lasted. She quickly realised how addicted I was and always reserved the juiciest ones for me; sometimes, she even threw in an extra for free. When the season ended, she broke the sad news to me. But imagine my shock when, a week later, she surprised me with some late-season mangoes she had managed to find.
I’d sometimes buy other fruits too: apples, oranges, pineapples, watermelon. She also sold groundnuts, my real kryptonite. Those who know me know how much I love them. When the mangoes were gone, I kept visiting her stall mainly for groundnuts. At first, I always paid cash. Then one day, perhaps because I didn’t have enough on me, I paid by transfer. Over time, it became a habit: I’d pick what I wanted, tell her the total, make the transfer, and walk away. And here’s the striking part: she never checks. She never once pulled out her phone to confirm the alert. She simply takes me at my word.
That hit me. What if I decided to be dishonest? What if I took advantage of her trust one day and disappeared with the goods? Isn’t that how scammers operate? They build trust carefully, and when the victim finally relaxes, they strike.
But her confidence in me made me reflect on trust itself. In Nigeria, especially, trust is often earned and re-earned repeatedly. In fact, with many people, it feels as if trust has to be earned afresh daily. Our society has taught us to be suspicious. We’ve seen too much betrayal. If someone says “good morning,” some will peek outside to confirm if it’s really morning.
This is not paranoia without reason. Every day, people are scammed, duped, or disappointed by those they trusted. From internet fraudsters posing as friends, to politicians making promises they never keep, to acquaintances who disappear with borrowed money, we’ve seen it all. The result is a culture of low trust. We say things like, “Shine your eyes,” “No carry last,” or “Trust nobody.” It has almost become a badge of wisdom to be suspicious.
And yet, human relationships cannot function without trust. Every time we get on a bus, we trust the driver not to drive recklessly. Every time we buy food from a restaurant, we trust that it won’t be poisoned. Every time we send money by transfer, we trust the system will move it to the right account. Trust underpins the basic functioning of society.
A few years ago, I ordered some items on Amazon and had them shipped to a friend in the US. The tracking system said they had been delivered, but when I called my friend, he insisted nothing had arrived. I was confused. I sent him a screenshot of the delivery confirmation, but he maintained the package wasn’t there.
So I went digging for Amazon’s customer service number. Not an easy task then. When I finally spoke to an agent, she explained that sometimes drivers drop packages at the wrong address. I suggested she contact the driver to retrieve it and deliver it properly, but she said their policy was that once a package is accepted, it cannot be reclaimed. She offered instead to refund my money or reship the items.
As I was speaking with her, my friend happened to step outside and saw the package lying on the road in front of the apartment building. The driver had simply dumped it there and forged a signature claiming it was delivered! I told the service agent what had happened, thanked her, and ended the call.
Later, when I recounted this to people, most were shocked that I didn’t let Amazon process the refund and still keep the items. Many said I wasn’t “sharp” enough. “Amazon is a big company, they can absorb the loss,” they said. But here’s the thing: the customer service agent believed me without hesitation. She took me at my word. If she could trust me, why would I betray that trust by withholding the truth? For me, taking the refund would have been theft.
This experience made me realise that there are, broadly, three types of people when it comes to trust. Those who trust implicitly (they take people at their word until proven otherwise), those who keep trusting, even when hurt (they get disappointed yet continue to start from a place of belief), and those who cannot trust at all (they assume everyone has bad intentions until they are given overwhelming evidence otherwise).
I probably lean more towards the second category. I usually start from trust. Yes, sometimes I’ve ignored glaring red flags and been burned badly. Other times, I had no reason to doubt, and I was still betrayed. And yet, I continue to start from trust, even if it means I have to keep my senses on red alert, because what’s the alternative? To live every day in suspicion? To assume everyone is out to get you? That feels like a self-designed prison.
For some, trusting comes naturally. They might have been raised in environments where honesty was the norm. Or they’ve had enough positive experiences that they believe most people mean well. They see trust as the default position, not suspicion. These are the people who give strangers directions, who lend without demanding collateral, who let others “pay later.” They know they could get cheated, but they would rather risk it than live in constant doubt.
On the other hand, some struggle deeply with trust. Perhaps they were betrayed early in life by friends, partners, colleagues, or even family. To them, trust feels like naivety. They see caution as survival. They believe everyone has an agenda, and to lower their guard is to invite pain. In societies with high levels of corruption and fraud, this attitude spreads quickly. Suspicion becomes wisdom; distrust becomes common sense.
And yet, there is something profoundly human about starting from trust. To trust is to be vulnerable, yes, but it also creates the possibility of a deeper connection. Without trust, society fragments. Every transaction becomes a battle, every relationship a negotiation. Life becomes heavier when we assume the worst of everyone.
Think about it: the fruit seller trusts me enough not to confirm my transfer. Amazon trusted my word enough to offer me a refund before I proved anything. Trust, when given, can call forth honesty in others. Sometimes, people rise to the level of the trust placed in them. When we always expect the worst, we often bring out the worst.
Of course, starting from trust doesn’t mean ignoring wisdom. It doesn’t mean handing over your ATM card to a stranger. It means giving people a chance to show who they are before condemning them. It means being open, while still being watchful.
If we want a healthier society, we must intentionally rebuild trust. That means:
- Practising honesty ourselves, even when no one is watching.
- Rewarding honesty in others, not making people feel stupid for doing the right thing.
- Teaching children that while caution is necessary, suspicion should not be their starting point.
- Creating systems that support trust, like reliable justice systems that punish betrayal.
When trust is the default, society functions more smoothly. Business becomes easier. Relationships deepen. Communities thrive. We need to stop celebrating distrust as wisdom and start valuing honesty as strength.
At the end of the day, trust will always carry risk. People will betray it. Some will abuse it. But without trust, we cannot truly live together. We cannot build families, friendships, businesses, or nations. To trust is to believe in the possibility of goodness in others, and sometimes, that belief itself is what brings out the goodness.
I pray we end up being a more trusting society, but I also recognise that a lot more work needs to happen, individually and collectively, before this prayer can be answered. So, can you take my word for it? I hope the answer, at least at the start, is yes. This is the way I see things today.