When Trust Doesn’t Make Sense — and Why It Still Matters
Trust is something we usually associate with good judgment. We trust people because we believe they’re trustworthy. That seems obvious. It’s also wrong—at least, it’s wrong if we think that trust must always be rational.
In this recent paper, I argued that irrational trust not only exists, but also plays a meaningful role in how we live, relate to others, and make sense of ourselves. And, if we’re serious about understanding trust, philosophically or practically, we need to take these messy, irrational cases seriously.
A Quick Tour of Rational Trust
Something like the following is pretty widely accepted in the philosophy of trust.
I trust you to do X.
I believe that you will do X, and I have good reasons to believe that.
My belief that you will do X is part of what makes this trust rather than mere hope or wishful thinking.
On this account, trust is a kind of rational gamble. I might be wrong, but my decision is backed by evidence, expectations, and a history of reliability. When it goes well, trust makes social life possible—at home, at work, in public. When it goes badly, we feel betrayed or let down.
But what if we sometimes trust in ways that aren’t backed by good reasons?
Meet Alex and Tarik
Consider the versions of the two cases I explore in the paper.
Alex is generous to a fault. He lends money to people who repeatedly fail to repay him. He trusts them anyway. His friends urge him to stop. He says things like “I just believe in people” or “I want to give them the benefit of the doubt.” But his belief isn’t backed by any new evidence. In fact, all the evidence points the other way. Still, Alex keeps trusting.
Next let’s consider Tarik, an imagined contemporary of Immanuel Kant. Tarik, we can imagine, believes that the philosopher Immanuel Kant takes a daily walk through the Königsberg park precisely in order to reassure him, Tarik, that all is well with the world. Tarik knows Kant doesn’t know him personally. He knows that Kant takes this walk as a matter of habit. And yet, Tarik believes that Kant’s continued commitment to this daily routine is for him. It reassures him. It grounds his trust that things are fundamentally OK.
Now, in this case, Tarik’s belief is clearly irrational. He has no good reason to think that Kant, living in a different time and place—and acting for his own reasons—has Tarik in mind. Tarik may even admit the oddity of his belief. But he still trusts in Kant’s walk. More precisely, he trusts in the meaning he has attached to it. The walk becomes a stabilising ritual. A signal of order. A personal anchor, however fantastical.
This isn’t trust based on evidence. It isn’t grounded in any realistic assessment of Kant’s intentions or capacities. But it’s trust all the same—shaped by dependence, expectation, and a kind of psychological or existential reliance. It’s irrational, but it plays a real role in how Tarik orients himself in the world.
In both cases, we’re dealing with what we can call irrational trust. Trust that persists in the face of the evidence.
But Is It Still Trust?
Some might say that what Alex and Tarik are doing doesn’t count as trust at all. It’s just misplaced hope, delusion, or naiveté. But I think that’s too quick.
At its core, trust isn’t simply the accuracy of the beliefs that support it. It’s the structure of the relationship. We can explore some characteristics of trust.
A person takes a stance of dependence on another.
They expect something from that other, and they base their behavior on that expectation.
They open themselves to the risk of being let down, betrayed, or disappointed.
Both Alex and Tarik meet these criteria. They’re vulnerable, they expect, and they act accordingly.
So yes, it’s still trust. It’s just not rational trust. And that distinction matters.
Why This Matters in Everyday Life
This might all seem a bit abstract. But it has consequences because:
1. Because People Do It All the Time
One reason to take irrational trust seriously is that it happens more often than we’d like to admit.
Think of:
Parents who keep trusting an adult child struggling with addiction, even when the evidence says not to.
Employees who keep giving their employer the benefit of the doubt, despite repeated letdowns.
Citizens who trust political figures against their own best judgment.
These aren’t fringe cases. They’re woven into the fabric of everyday life. People trust for reasons that aren’t fully justifiable. They still do it. Whether they should is another matter!
2. Because It Tells Us Something About Human Values
We don’t just trust because of rational calculation. We trust because we care. Because we want things to work out. Because we hope people can be better. Because we don’t want to give up on someone. And yes, because it’s easier than facing the pain of withdrawal.
If trust were always rational, it wouldn’t capture the full range of these human motivations. Recognizing irrational trust helps us see that trust is often an expression of values, not just a response to facts.
3. Because It Has Consequences—Sometimes Good, Sometimes Bad
Here’s the tricky part. Irrational trust isn’t just “bad trust.” It can lead to poor outcomes. But it can also sustain relationships that need space to heal or grow. Trusting someone again after they’ve hurt you is risky. It may not be fully rational. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t going to do it sometimes.
That means we can’t judge trust solely by whether it’s justified. We also have to look at what it enables, what it expresses, and what it risks.
Some Takeaways
If you’ve made it this far, thank you. Here are a few things I think are worth holding onto, whether you’re in leadership, education, policy, or just trying to make better sense of trust in your own life.
Takeaway 1: Not all trust is rational—and that’s ok.
Understanding that trust can be irrational doesn’t mean endorsing every instance. It means acknowledging a fuller picture of how trust operates in real life.
Takeaway 2: Irrational trust is still real trust.
It carries emotional and moral weight. It can be betrayed. It can backfire. But it also reveals what matters to people, even when the odds are against them.
Takeaway 3: Pay attention to what irrational trust is doing.
Ask: What purpose is this trust serving? Is it preserving hope? Avoiding pain? Holding space for something better? These questions help us respond with empathy—not just critique.
Wrapping Up
Irrational trust may seem like a philosophical curiosity. But it’s also a psychological reality, a social force, and a source of both risk and resilience. In a world where trust is easily, understanding the full range of how and why people trust is more important than ever.
If you’re interested in exploring these themes further, then let me know. I’m a trust-nerd, through and through and happy to take requests!
And if you’ve ever trusted someone even when you knew you probably shouldn’t—you’re in good company. I think we all have.
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