A different way of thinking about trust
We often hear that trust is fundamental to healthy relationships and high-performing teams. It is the foundation on which collaboration, innovation and meaningful dialogue are built. Yet despite its importance, trust can feel surprisingly elusive. We know when it is present. We certainly know when it is absent. But we rarely stop to ask what trust actually looks like.
Lately, I have been wondering whether trust is a little like love. Just as people experience and express love in different ways, perhaps trust also has a language. Perhaps much of the misunderstanding we experience in our relationships comes not from a lack of trust, but from assuming everyone speaks the same language. Perhaps each of us has a preferred trust language.
What is your trust language?
| Trust Language | You may recognise yourself if… |
| Credibility | You trust people who demonstrate competence, expertise and sound judgement. |
| Reliability | You trust people who consistently do what they said they would do. |
| Integrity | You trust people who tell the truth, even when it is difficult. |
| Inclusion | You trust people who involve you in their thinking and include you in important conversations. |
| Early Warning | You trust people who communicate changes and risks early, rather than leaving you to discover them later. |
| Vulnerability | You trust people who acknowledge mistakes, ask for help and are honest about what they do not know. |
These are not the only trust languages. Rather, they illustrate some of the different ways people experience and build trust.
Two observations
Observation 1: We often assume our trust language is universal.
Without realising it, what we value becomes the lens through which we judge both ourselves and other people. We naturally assume others experience trust in the same way we do.
If my trust language is reliability, I may believe that consistently doing what I said I would do is the clearest demonstration of trustworthiness. If someone else’s trust language is inclusion, they may place far greater value on being involved in the thinking than on whether every commitment was delivered exactly as planned. Neither of us is wrong. We are simply speaking different trust languages.
I recognise this in my own experience as a leader. Quality mattered enormously to me. I believed that producing thoughtful, rigorous work demonstrated trustworthiness. When my work was questioned, I often experienced it personally. It felt as though my capability was being challenged and, with it, the trust others had in me.
Looking back, I wonder whether something else was happening. Perhaps they were not questioning the quality of my work at all. Perhaps they simply wanted earlier visibility of my thinking, more communication along the way, or the opportunity to contribute before decisions were finalised.
We both acted with integrity. We both wanted the best outcome. Yet we each left the conversation believing the other person had somehow broken trust.
I wonder how often this happens in teams. One person quietly produces exceptional work, believing that excellence speaks for itself. Another feels excluded because they were never kept informed. One person believes trust means, “Leave me to get on with it.” Another believes trust means, “Keep me involved.” Neither person intends to damage the relationship. Yet misunderstanding gradually replaces trust because each is measuring the other against their own trust language.
Observation 2: Some trust languages carry more weight than others.
While all of these trust languages matter, one or two often carry more weight than the rest. They become our strongest signals that someone can—or cannot—be trusted.
For someone whose trust language is integrity, dishonesty may feel almost irreparable. Once the truth has been compromised, rebuilding trust can be incredibly difficult. For someone whose trust language is inclusion, being left out of an important conversation may create a deep sense of mistrust, even if the decision itself was sound. Someone else may value early warning above everything else. They understand that plans change and mistakes happen, but discovering a problem too late can feel like a breach of trust in itself.
Our strongest trust language becomes our bias. It shapes what we notice, what we value and what we instinctively expect from others.
Becoming fluent in the language of trust
Perhaps building trust begins with self awareness.
- What is my trust language?
- Which of these behaviours matters most to me?
- When do I feel trusted?
- And when do I find it difficult to trust someone else?
The answers are likely to reveal something about the lens through which you experience trust.
The next step is curiosity.
- What does trust look like for the other person?
- What behaviours help them feel trusted?
- What matters most to them?
Rather than assuming trust means the same thing to everyone, we can begin asking better questions, noticing what matters to the people around us and making our expectations explicit.
Perhaps one of the most important responsibilities of leadership is to become fluent in the trust languages of the people around us.
Because many breakdowns in trust are not caused by bad intent. They happen because we are signalling trust in one language while someone else is listening for another.
When we become aware of our own trust language—and curious about the trust language of others—we create the conditions for stronger relationships, deeper collaboration and teams that are able to think well together.