What a furniture haul taught me about social trust
Summary: Kate Carney, Deputy Director of More in Common US, writes about new research on social trust and its implications on our everyday lives.
My husband and I recently moved into our first home Washington, DC. After years of living in a studio and one-bedroom apartments (and even on a boat), having a three-bedroom house was a huge milestone. We bought a house! And as millennials!
With more rooms came more furniture needs, which meant I spent a lot of time scrolling Facebook marketplace. One evening, I came across the perfect daybed for our window nook. I messaged the seller and confirmed the measurements. Soon enough, my husband and I were crossing town in our 4Runner late on a Sunday night.
With the sellers’ help and a lot of bungee cords, we managed to fit the daybed in the car. But once we arrived home, we realized we couldn’t carry it inside ourselves without risking a back injury. We didn’t want to leave it in the car overnight with the trunk half-open, either. So, we called our neighbors.
Within minutes, they were outside, graciously helping us haul the daybed into our house. Thanks to them, we now have a cozy spot that “eats laundry,” as my husband says, and is perfect for Sunday afternoon naps.
I’ve been reflecting on that moment recently. Pew Research recently released their latest report on trust, finding only 34% of Americans believe most people can be trusted, down from 46% just a few decades ago. (Our Two Stories of Distrust report echoes similar findings.)
There has been a lot of commentary about declining trust in the US, so these numbers may not be surprising. Many of us, including myself, often talk about trust in broad terms: as a cornerstone of democracy, a measure of social health, or a factor in polarization. But I don’t always stop to consider what trust looks like in my everyday life, or how much I rely on social trust when I move about in the world.
Just take the story of my daybed.
I met a stranger online to set up arrangements and engage in a transaction. I trusted her enough to meet at her house to pick up the item—and that the item for sale would be there, in its advertised condition. She trusted me enough to give me, a stranger, her home address. I did not have enough trust to leave our car trunk open overnight with the piece of furniture. But I did trust our neighbor would be willing to help us carry it into our house.
Pew classifies me as a “Truster,” defined as someone who generally believes “most people can be trusted.” I’m more likely to do things like “leave a set of keys with a neighbor” or “open the door to someone [I] don’t know.”
Of course, trusters aren’t necessarily always trusting. Whether a “truster” or “distruster,” strong majorities of Americans still generally don’t leave belongings unattended or their homes unlocked. Healthy skepticism has its place — trust without caution can have harmful consequences.
Trust also is connected to one’s life experiences. According to Pew's same study, Americans who have more education, higher incomes, are older, and white, are more likely to say that most others can be trusted. People who may face discrimination, systemic barriers, or hardships (such as losing a job), are less trustful, and understandably so.
These conditions play out in my own story, too. I’ve had chances to meet and build relationships with my neighbors, and I live in a community where I generally feel secure and welcome, just to name a couple.
There is also a relationship between trust and comfort in what is familiar. Pew found people are more likely to trust others in their neighborhood if they are similar to them “politically, racially, and educationally.”
Yet in a country that is inherently as diverse as ours, we can’t just build trust within our own circles. For us to live peacefully in a pluralistic society, we have to be able to build relationships and trust across lines of difference. But because we naturally gravitate toward those who are like us, that kind of trust-building can’t be left to chance—it takes effort and intention.
The good news is this is possible, and is even of interest to Americans. Our Connection Opportunity report finds that 70% of Americans believe they have a responsibility to connect with those who are different from them, and majorities are interested in various “bridging activities.” Grounded in our insights, we lay out several strategies to foster these connections—including highlighting ways in which we may have commonalities, like shared interests and goals, when trying to broaden interest in opportunities to connect across differences.
I share these reflections in part for selfish aspirations. I want to live in a society where I can rely on my neighbors, and they know they can rely on me. I want to be able to leave Amazon packages on my front stoop, or not be worried if I forget to lock my door. I’d say most of us want some version of this too.
But building this social trust also requires commitment from all of us. We cannot simply expect others to be trustful. We have to do our part, too. It takes being willing to understand how one’s life experiences may impact their levels of trust—and finding ways to earn it. It also requires thinking about ways we can signal to others that we can be trusted, especially to those who may not be in our immediate circles.
Luckily, this can happen in so many ways, even in the small choices we make every day. And the payoffs aren’t just a stronger community — sometimes it can be a daybed, too.
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