WHAT DO I TRUST? [2 minute read] I am constantly bringing to my mind the classic, “What if?” My query is not a matter of doubt but of certainty. What will happen if I leave my garage door open all night long? Will people who want what I have be tempted to enter or will the person be stopped by some internal control? Would it be better for me to purchase a security system or trust the natural inclination of my neighbors or passersby to stay out of my garage, though the door is open?
For those who would point to my dogmatism, shaking their collective heads at my doubt of human goodness and reliance upon dead bolts, I would ask, “What is your dogmatism?” If I rely upon people to do what is right (whatever their definition of “right” may be) can I absolutely trust them when it comes to my person and property? And if I do trust in human decency, is that not now the new dogmatism?
But what if the very people I assume will stay out of my garage – the door open – decide instead to invade my home? Does not my assumption of goodness become my new hope, my new doctrine of anthropology, the bedrock of my ethics, or simply my desire to trust people? But what if, putting my belief in human integrity to the test, I discover not everyone will listen to their better angels? What if I find out that people, left to themselves, will use my property to better themselves?
If we were honest, we would have to question such an open-door policy. We put our money in banks for security. We lock our cars and our houses. We develop university policies such as FERPA for personal privacy. Doctor-patient privilege protects us from others knowing our physical information. Cyber-security has become a cottage industry to protect against fraud, identity theft, or hackers who want our money or desire a ransom to give back the flow of gasoline on the East coast.
No, I would rather live within the biblical tension of dignity and depravity. I know myself too well. Left to myself, I will always want what I want for myself. I will care for others only in so far as it benefits me. I have doubts, but I am certain about this: I am not to be trusted. Knowing what I know about me, I have to ask, “Can I trust others?” As a theologian, I can write pages of biblical warrant for my belief. But as a common, everyday person, I must use the famed phrase of President Reagan, “Trust, but verify.”
My certainty, my without-a-doubt commitment, is that to “verify” means I know we need laws, police, a judicial system, national defense, a strong military presence, and the will to employ not only locks on my doors, not only a closed garage door, but a response to wrongdoing that will keep my potential home intruder or our nation’s enemies at a distance, leaving the wrongdoer to wonder, “Am I ready for whatever I meet on the other side of that door?”
[First published on Mark’s FB page on 2 September 2021]
I’m distressed to learn that (whether or not there actually was any electronic election fraud) a number of voting machines have online access for reporting early results. It’s supposed to be switched on only after the counting is finished. We’re being asked to trust the machines, but, like Chesterton has Father Brown say, every reliable machine has to be used by an unreliable machine, a human being.
It took me about 10 months after the election to figure just this much out, and I know one fact-check that incorrectly says there is no online access in these machines.
In other words, we are asked to trust completely that everyone using these machines was both competent and honest–but without any verification system in place at all.
“Trust, and don’t you dare verify” can destroy a country.