Political Trust and Democracy

What do we mean by political trust? Is there a problem with it?

Trust in governments and in political parties is apparently in decline globally. To what extent is this a “crisis”, or has the issue been over-blown by surveyors? I was interviewed on this important question for the UK’s The Conversation Weekly podcast. This was stimulated by a column I wrote for The Conversation back in April on how much people distrust politicians, and whether we should worry about that.

I hope you’ll listen to the podcast, but here are some background thoughts to support it and to clarify some points.

The narrative of “declining trust” is largely driven by a long series of “trust in the federal government” surveys in the United States, dating back to the late 1950s. But there are problems with these survey items, and, now that they’re being asked globally, the results don’t tell a uniform story.

Has this important question of political trust been over-simplified?

The story of decline is told in a long series of surveys on Americans’ trust in the federal government going back to 1958, as reported by the Pew Research Center. For Americans, 1958 was a time of optimism: rising consumer prosperity, relatively low economic inequality and broad bipartisan consensus. There were certainly problems, especially racial discrimination and segregation, and the civil rights movement was fighting for equality and justice. There was a sense, however, that society could get better and governments would solve problems. And Henry Luce’s 1941 proclamation of “the American Century” – in which the US would abandon isolationism and grasp world leadership – looked like it was coming true.

GM’s Chevrolet Impala 1958 exuded that American self-confidence and “drive”.

Between 1958 and 1964, surveys reported roughly three quarters of Americans saying that they trusted the federal government to do the right thing almost always or most of the time. During the 1960s, blacks and whites were about equal in their rating of trust in government – but the survey results were starting to decline across the board. The growing unpopularity of the war in Vietnam and then the Watergate scandal – which resulted in the resignation of President Nixon in 1974 – were the backdrop for a steep decline. By the time of the Ford administration, only 19 percent of blacks expressed trust, at half the rate of whites (38 percent). From there, the percentage of people saying they trusted the government moved up and down – but the long-term trend was downwards to 20 percent or below. There was an upward spike in 2001 due to the terrorist attacks in September that year, but rates soon declined again. Trust is normally higher among supporters of the party that currently controls the White House, so survey respondents may be judging, at least in part, the current administration rather than the federal government in general. Even so, the levels have been low since the Obama and Trump years, and far below where they were in the time of Eisenhower and Kennedy. This decline in trust-survey results was accompanied by growing income and wealth inequalities in the United States, and by a rise in political polarisation.

Given the numerous social, economic and environmental problems, combined with people’s scepticism about the character or competence of some recent presidents, it’s hardly any wonder that fewer Americans were saying that they trusted the government in Washington DC. But the high levels of Americans’ trust in government in the late 1950s and the 1960s may implicitly, and mistakenly, be taken as a norm or a desirable status quo ante. Post-War America was victorious and prosperous, but we don’t have trust surveys from the inter-War era and the Depression, let alone earlier. Were the Eisenhower–Kennedy years a fortunate but historically unusual era of trust and confidence? Are those kinds of survey results unlikely ever to be repeated? The American post-War experience may have been unusual over the course of their history, and low trust in government may be a cultural default-setting, for all we know.

Social-science literature on trust tends to be dominated by American authors whose views are conditioned by surveys that stretch back further than other countries. But the American experience isn’t an international norm. China gets among the highest trust-survey results, and, according to OECD data, the Nordic countries especially, but also some other Europeans, and small countries like New Zealand, get higher survey averages than the US. Some countries such as Costa Rica have seen trust-survey results rise, not fall. The story of declining political trust is not universally applicable, in as much as we even trust surveys!

Furthermore, no one can specify an ideal or optimal percentage for trust surveys. It would be a mistake to treat trust-survey results as anything resembling thermometer readings. We can say that a comfortable room temperature is between 68 and 72 degrees Fahrenheit, or 20 and 22 degrees Celsius, but there’s no comparable “trustometer” with a target moderate range. It doesn’t make sense to say that 100 percent trust is a realistic or desirable goal. So, what should we be aiming for? Eighty percent? Fifty percent? No one knows.

Edelman’s global “trust barometer” is a misleading metaphor. We could take surveys too literally, as if they were objective measurements, and thus overlook the complex inter-subjective, multi-dimensional social nature of political trust. The survey results are only indicators of opinion, and, although useful as rough guides, they’re not to be read as measurements of an objective condition that varies on a zero-to-100 scale. There’s been an element of pseudo-science behind this.

Social scientists generally define trust as a belief, opinion or even wager that other people will act in one’s interests. But just imagine saying to friends and colleagues that you trust them because it’s your opinion that they’d probably act in your interests. Wouldn’t those people wonder how genuine your trust was?

There are, of course, some situations where adults should judge carefully whether someone can be trusted for some limited purpose – such as an investment – but those instances aren’t the norm in social and political life. Our basic everyday forms of trust are unspoken and implicit, and this reflects our willingness to be cooperative and altruistic. Trust shouldn’t be defined simply as a consciously held opinion based on self-interest – unless you’re a technocratic economist.

The surveys, moreover, are only asking individuals for their private opinions about how much they trust. But, in practice, trust in public institutions of politics and government is incredibly complex, encompassing perceptions of prominent people and experiences of the quality of public services, and also our reciprocal obligations to obey laws and pay taxes.

We’re probably more trusting of government if we see that other citizens play their part too, not just the politicians. And a person who says they don’t trust government still expects traffic-lights to function, stops for them, and expects others to obey them. But none of that happens without a government of some kind keeping the systems running and enforcing the rules.

Political trust encompasses a huge range of issues, then, and it’s impossible to evaluate in just a word or two in response to a surveyor.

The trust surveys miss all of the subtlety. They individualise the matter as a rough opinion about how much, for example, a government will do what’s right. People’s responses are shaped by partisan loyalties or “likes and dislikes” regarding individual leaders or parties. The trust surveys, then, can only be useful as rough indicators. Don’t take them as concrete facts about an actual thing called “trust” – and don’t get alarmed by them. Remember that surveyors such as Edelman are trying to grab your attention (oh no, there’s a trust deficit!) and that they’re profit-making communications firms with high-value clients.

We need to look more closely at what we mean by trust. And we need to consider how a degree of distrust is healthy and fundamental for any democratic constitution. After all, while the US Declaration of Independence doesn’t use the word trust – or distrust – it does express the strongest distrust in the government of King George III: “A Prince whose character is marked by every act which may define a Tyrant.” Is political distrust necessarily a regrettable or negative thing? Distrust in monarchical power was built in to the US Constitution and Americans are proud of that heritage. That’s why their founders separated powers, imposed checks and balances, and held periodic elections.

Modern constitutions are designed in similar ways, precisely because we trust no one with political power that’s not limited in scope and tenure. Paradoxically, though, it’s also true to say that a democratic system relies heavily on trust. In western representative government, the people, when they vote, entrust huge legislative and executive powers into the hands of a relatively tiny number of citizens. And they trust that public services will continue and that security will be maintained.

Systems of representative government depend on our trusting people – and yet not trusting them. That is, political trust should be strictly conditional. No one should ask us for unconditional trust and obedience. Only dictators do that.

When we vote in elections, we’re expressing a highly conditional political trust. In effect we’re placing a huge trust into the hands of our representatives. But we’re also saying we don’t really trust them all that much, because they’ll have to face another election within a limited time. Meanwhile the press and the courts and various watchdogs will be keeping an eye on them. That’s because we can’t really trust anyone with unchecked powers.

So we need a more nuanced discussion about the apparent decline of political trust, or about trust in institutions generally, including media, as a degree of distrust is rational.

What, then, is the real problem today? Is the apparent decline in political trust a basic problem in itself, or is it just an indicator derived from surveys cooked up by companies such as Gallup and Edelman? Should we be looking at underlying real political and economic problems such as inequality and polarisation, climate change and armed conflict? We have to take all of these dimensions together. Political distrust has to be understood in terms of deeper social and economic problems, but the political solutions to such problems depend on effective and competent government – which, in turn, requires popular support, some basic shared beliefs and political legitimacy, leading to deeper trust.

The apparently nebulous or subjective problem of political trust is a valid concern, reflecting the “real” issues that confront us.

Philosophers as ancient as Confucius and Aristotle have discussed how respectful relationships, mutual goodwill, benevolence and trust are essential for the security and wellbeing of the state and of its people. In an age of globalization and rapid technological advances, the problem of political trust encapsulates some of the most important issues facing us now. Before thinking about how to “rebuild” political trust, we need a clearer understanding of what it means to trust in the institutions of government and in political leaders.

The Tesla Cybertruck 2024 looks superficially tough, but fearful and anonymous. It exudes distrust.