What makes trust possible?

There is a lot of conversation right now about trust, belonging and social cohesion.

It is showing up in strategies and funding priorities, and in the way we talk about rising tensions within communities. It is present in our sporting codes and in conversations about racism, homophobia and discrimination.

Here in Australia, the Royal Commission on Antisemitism and Social Cohesion was established in response to the Bondi terrorist attack. Questions of division and cohesion are increasingly part of our public conversation, and this focus on how we live together is important.

Of course we want more trust. More belonging. Less division.

But there is something that worries me.

We tend to talk about trust and belonging as though they can be built directly - as though they are outcomes we can deliver if we get the settings right.

As though trust is something we can roll out.

Belonging is something we can design.

Cohesion is what happens when we put the right initiatives in place.

And when we think like that, our response tends to follow a familiar pattern:

• Raise awareness through campaigns and public messaging.

• Set expectations through policies and codes of conduct.

• Reinforce the values we want to see through training and education.

All important. All necessary.

But not always sufficient.

Behaviour changes through more than instruction and messaging. It is also shaped by what is happening around us - and by what feels safe, normal and possible in the moment.

When tension arises, we don’t necessarily draw on a set of abstract values. We don’t pause and ask ourselves, What did I learn in that training program? or What did that advertisement say about treating people with respect?

We respond to the cues around us.

We notice what other people are doing. We assess whether it feels safe to speak, whether our views will be supported or rejected, and whether saying something might make the situation better or worse.

We may also respond from fear - fear that we are losing power, status, certainty or access to something we value.

In those moments, we are not always operating from our best intentions. We may become defensive, withdraw, blame someone else or say something clumsy or unkind.

And sometimes those responses are reinforced rather than challenged. In some environments, intolerant attitudes and behaviour are accepted, overlooked or even rewarded.

When we see behaviour that destroys trust, excludes rather than includes, or divides rather than connects, it isn’t always because people don’t understand what a better response might look like.

Sometimes, accessing that version of ourselves - in real time, under pressure and in an environment that doesn’t support a different response - is harder than we think.

In our recent work in Ballarat, we’ve begun approaching this a little differently.

Instead of asking, How do we build trust?, we are asking:

What makes trust possible?

If behaviour is shaped in small, real-time moments - and those moments are influenced by what feels safe, normal and acceptable - perhaps that is where more of the work sits.

Not only in what we say, but in what people experience when it matters.

Is it okay to ask a curious question rather than state an opinion in this conversation?

Does it feel safe to say, “I don’t know,” in this community meeting?

Are we encouraged to sit with messiness, uncertainty or discomfort, or is immediate action the only acceptable response, even when the direction isn’t clear?

Do we respond to behaviour we don’t like with immediate judgement, or can we pause long enough to reflect?

What behaviour is tolerated here? What isn’t? And what are the signals that let us know?

We have started exploring these questions more deliberately.

Nothing particularly grand. More a series of small experiments alongside work that is already happening locally.

We are paying attention to the things that shape how people show up - safety, participation, connection and shared purpose.

Not as a framework to impose, but as a way of noticing.

Where do these things feel strong?

Where do they feel stretched?

What is going on beneath the surface?

Alongside this, we are working with a small set of practices:

• Stay curious.

• Build trust in small ways.

• Name tension early.

• Take one step.

• See your part.

• Hold things lightly.

On paper, they don’t look like much.

They aren’t a program. They aren’t even particularly new.

But perhaps that is the point.

If trust and belonging rise or fall in small, everyday moments, then the work isn’t only about what we design - or getting that design exactly right.

It is also about how we show up in those moments.

It is the everyday practices that open conversations rather than close them down.

It is curiosity that makes room for empathy rather than hardening judgement.

It is asking, Am I listening to understand, or simply waiting to respond?

Or, How could I name the tension here without turning it into a fight?

It is exploring what progress might look like, however small, in a situation that feels intractable.

It is asking ourselves how we might be contributing to the way a situation is unfolding.

And sometimes it is being willing to say, What if I’m not completely right about this? Can I remain open to another possibility?

It is still early.

We don’t have answers, and education, messaging, policies and programs will continue to play an important role in building respect, kindness and tolerance within our communities.

But a working hypothesis is forming in the background:

Do small shifts in how we show up - at work, online and in our communities - change more than we think?

Can our everyday behaviour help support connection and cohesion in a world that increasingly pulls us in the opposite direction?

That is what we are testing.

I’ll share what we learn.

First published on Wayfinders