Trust is not binary
When we talk about trust, we often treat it like a light switch — it’s either on or off. You either trust someone completely, or you don’t trust them at all.
We say things like, “I don’t trust him,” or, “I totally trust her,” without giving any context. The problem is, when trust is all or nothing, very few people will ever meet that impossibly high standard.
If you walk around not trusting anyone, that’s not just lonely — it can make it harder to connect, collaborate, or move forward in your work and relationships. On the flip side, if you trust everyone completely, you’re likely to end up hurt, disappointed, or taken advantage of.
So what’s the middle ground?
It’s shifting our thinking from “I trust someone” to “I trust someone to…”
This small shift changes everything.
A series of 1’s and 0’s, mostly white, with some red. The red ones make up the shape of a heart.
Here are a few examples:
I trust my next-door neighbor to babysit my kids, but not with my bank account.
I trust my friend to always want the best for me, but not to keep her mouth shut at my family Christmas party.
I trust my case manager to help me find housing, but not with information about my drinking.
I trust my doctor to help me with basic medical care, but not with information about my sexuality.
I trust my realtor to get me the best deal for my house, but I don’t trust her with my life.
This way of thinking helps us move away from that rigid, all-or-nothing idea of trust — and toward something more nuanced, realistic, and human.
Let’s unpack what people actually mean when they say, “I don’t trust someone.” Sometimes what’s really being communicated is:
I believe they’ll always make choices that are self-centered.
I can’t predict how they’ll behave.
I don’t like this person.
I think they have bad intentions.
They’re different from me, and I’m not sure how that will play out.
I don’t think they care about others’ best interests.
That’s a wide range of meanings hidden behind a single phrase — and it matters, because when we just say “I don’t trust them,” the person hearing it has no way to know what we mean.
The same goes for the flip side. When people say “I trust them,” that can mean:
I believe they’ll always have my best interest at heart.
I think they’ll tell me the truth.
I relate to them — they feel familiar.
I like them, and that makes me feel safe.
Trust is deeply personal. For some people, “trust” means someone has to check every single box. For others, just one or two might be enough.
Because our definitions are so subjective, clarity matters. When we can say what we trust someone to do — and what we don’t — we make space for a much more honest and functional version of trust.
Trust in the Workplace
This isn’t just about friendships or family — it’s especially important at work.
When trust is treated as binary in the workplace, it can quietly corrode teams. Managers may hesitate to delegate because they “don’t trust” staff yet, and employees may stop sharing ideas because they don’t “fully trust” leadership. But when we shift to specific trust — “I trust my coworker to meet deadlines, even if I don’t always trust their judgment on client relationships” — we open up space for collaboration, accountability, and growth.
This perspective also gives leaders a practical way to build psychological safety. Instead of demanding blanket trust (“trust your manager,” “trust your team”), we can cultivate it in specific, measurable ways: trust to follow through, trust to give honest feedback, trust to keep confidence, trust to show up.
Bringing It Into 360° Reviews
One powerful way to use this idea is by weaving it into 360° performance reviews.
Instead of asking only about skills or personality traits, we can add the lens of situational trust.
For example, asking reviewers questions like:
“I trust Jane to get projects done on time.”
“I trust Jane to represent our department well in meetings.”
“I trust Jane to be honest when there’s a problem.”
The responses — whether agreement, hesitation, or disagreement — can provide a roadmap for professional growth.
If the feedback comes back as, “I don’t trust Jane to get projects done on time,” that’s not a character judgment; it’s data. It tells us exactly where trust is low, and where support or improvement is needed. Maybe Jane needs clearer priorities, better communication tools, or workload adjustments.
By reframing trust this way, it becomes less about who someone is and more about what behaviors or conditions build (or break) trust within a team. It makes performance reviews more honest, actionable, and human.
Trust isn’t binary. It’s a spectrum — and learning to name where someone falls on that spectrum doesn’t make us cynical; it makes us wise.
In the workplace, it makes us better teammates, clearer communicators, and more effective leaders. And when we bring that nuance into how we give feedback, we stop using “trust” as a verdict — and start using it as a map for growth.
