Class 26. Why Trust Matters in a Democracy

The threats may be coming from far away, but the real problem is us.

[A] despot easily forgives his subjects for not loving him, provided they do not love each other. He does not ask them to assist him in governing the State; it is enough that they do not aspire to govern it themselves. He stigmatizes as turbulent and unruly spirits those who would combine their exertions to promote the prosperity of the community, and, perverting the natural meaning of words, he applauds as good citizens those who have no sympathy for any but themselves. — Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America, Vol. 2, Ch.4

Now that we’re in 2024 and skipping along the path towards an authoritarian hellscape, I thought I’d open with the above quote from Alexis de Tocqueville. You may be wondering if I am getting ahead on the syllabus to talk about demagogues and dictators; I’m not. But after spending the last year discussing Russian active measures and how disinformation achieves the Kremlin’s goals of destablization, demoralization, and delegitimization, I want to turn our attention inwards and ask:

Why do these disinfomation tactics work so well here in the U.S.?

Tocqueville’s observations about despots help answer that question. More specifically, they illuminate a critical ingredient without which a healthy democracy can’t function: Social trust.

“Social trust” might sound like a foo-foo concept, but it’s one that can actually be studied and measured as an indicator of a society’s health. Political scientists, sociologists, and philosophers use the term “social capital” — coined in 1916 by a rural public school supervisor — which Harvard Professor Robert Putnam defines in his book, Bowling Alone, as follows:

[S]ocial capital refers to connections among individuals — social networks and the norms of reciprocity and trustworthiness that arise from them. In that sense social capital is closely related to what some have called ‘civic virtue.’ The difference is that ‘social capital’ calls attention to the fact that civic virtue is most powerful when embedded in a dense network of reciprocal social relations.

Basically, just like the value we get from financial capital (which helps our economy), or human capital (which helps our productivity), the value we get from our connections to each other — social capital — helps our democracy. In fact, high levels of social trust are not only correlated with increased civic participation — things like voting, serving on juries, and being politically engaged — but also with public-spirited actions like paying taxes, volunteering, donating blood, and giving to charity. Conversely, lower levels of social trust are correlated with higher crime rates and greater levels of corruption.

It’s worth pausing here and reflecting on some of these things. Why do people pay taxes? Give blood? Volunteer? Donate to charity? Why do we do things that involve a sacrifice on our part, and for which we may not receive any direct benefit? And hey, as long as we’re asking, why do people obey laws…even ones they don’t agree with? Comply with court decisions…even ones that don’t go their way? Accept the [COUGH COUGH] outcome of elections…even when their candidate doesn’t win? The answer to some of these things is that there are legal consequences if you don’t — but the threat of being caught isn’t the only motivator. And for the more altruistic activities listed above, there’s no enforcement mechanism at all.

Your answers to the brief assignment last week began to get to the heart of the answer to this question. That post asked you to watch some videos of ordinary people directing traffic during the 2019 New York City blackout, and consider their motivations. Here are some of the things you noted:

• “The United States is generally a rule-following society and most people are concerned about the general welfare of others.”

• “People with a sense of community stepped up to help and the drivers in a dangerous situation were relieved by the help in bringing some order to chaos.”

• “People generally are cooperative and want things to run in an orderly manner…In times of emergency (even a minor emergency such as a power failure), most people pull together for the common good.”

• “Social cohesion benefits us, feels good and works to solve problems we couldn’t solve acting individually….People obey because we understand it’s in everyone’s interest to do it.”

• “The drivers recognize that pushing ahead is likely to create a snarl so they cooperate by sacrificing a little time to avoid losing a lot of time….The cooperation is enforced by the recognition that not cooperating will only make a bad situation worse.”

• “People who feel a sense of society, being part of the greater good or just being part of something, might be more apt to jump in and help in situations like this.”

What these responses observe, implicitly or explicitly, is that there is more than mere altruism at work among all the participants in every intersection. Of course the people who were both directing traffic and obeying them certainly wanted to help others, but they also understood that, as members of this community, they too stood to gain from this collective effort.

This idea was described by Tocqueville as the principle of “interest rightly understood” (also known as “enlightened self interest” and “self interest well understood”). He describes how this principle, unique to America, in his view, helped temper the tendency to selfishness that would otherwise result from pure individualism:

The Americans, on the contrary, are fond of explaining almost all the actions of their lives by the principle of interest rightly understood; they show with complacency how an enlightened regard for themselves constantly prompts them to assist each other, and inclines them willingly to sacrifice a portion of their time and property to the welfare of the State….The principle of interest rightly understood produces no great acts of self-sacrifice, but it suggests daily small acts of self-denial. By itself it cannot suffice to make a man virtuous, but it disciplines a number of citizens in habits of regularity, temperance, moderation, foresight, self-command; and, if it does not lead men straight to virtue by the will, it gradually draws them in that direction by their habits.

The modern terminology for this concept is simply “generalized trust,” or, as Putnam defines it, “a ‘standing decision’ to give most people — even those whom one does not know from direct experience — the benefit of the doubt.” In other words, social trust rests on the idea that other people can be trusted and counted on, and are also acting in ways that benefit the common good. When you step up or chip in, you, too, reap the benefits indirectly, if not directly.

Putnam also observes that social trust is related to honesty and good faith. Your impulse to return the wallet you found in Wal-Mart to Customer Service? That’s generalized trust: You’ve got your (faceless) fellow citizens’ back, because you feel that they’ve got yours and would do the same. And when people believe that others are playing by the rules, they are inclined to do their part for the greater good, like pay taxes. Conversely, if you believed everyone else was somehow getting away with breaking the rules, you’d be a sucker for complying. (Sound familiar?)

Anyway, this probably all sounds good so far. I mean, we had a bunch of randos bringing order to chaos in a crisis in NEW YORK CITY! That has to mean that the levels of social trust in the United States is overall pretty high, right?

Soooooo…this is where the news is not so great. Putnam describes, in Bowling Alone, the precipitous decline of social capital in the United States since World War II. I’ll get to some of the underlying causes he identifies in a future lecture, but he chronicles the steady downward trend in civic engagement — which as noted above, is a reflection of social capital — in all areas of American life, including political participation, civic associations, religious institutions, and informal social clubs. (The title of the book is a nod to the slow disappearance of the local bowling league…hence, we’re bowling alone.)

Putnam published his book in 2000…so maybe things have turned around since then? Doesn’t look like it. I found a lot of different charts graphing social trust in America since 1960, but this one, by Professor Kevin Vallier, author of Trust in a Polarized Age, combines data from three major surveys going back as far as 1964 to create the following graph:

In her Atlantic piece, “The Weaponization of Loneliness,” Hillary Clinton echoes the story told by this graph, writing:

As the trust and social ties that used to bind communities together have frayed, apathy, isolation, and polarization have undercut the old ‘we’re all in this together’ ethos. Instead of nonpartisan volunteers and civic organizations like the League of Women Voters, we have MAGA election deniers and QAnon enthusiasts. There’s now a widespread shortage of poll workers because so many have faced harassment and abuse, just for doing their jobs and helping people vote.¹

To use a phrase from Putnam’s more recent work, The Upswing, the U.S has gone from a “We” to a “Me.” What could be something that can turn this trend around?

Case Study: COVID-19 and the Mask Mandate

I had been thinking and writing about social trust and our current democratic climate for a few years when COVID hit. To me, the pandemic seemed tailor-made to help revitalize social trust in the U.S. For one thing, it was a crisis! As most of you noted in your comments to the blackout traffic videos, people tend to step up in a crisis — even with the downward zig-zag in the above chart, for instance, it’s interesting that there seemed to be a short spike in the time around 9/11. In fact, a Pew survey taken before the pandemic revealed that three-quarters of Americans across all political affiliations said they would cooperate with fellow citizens in a crisis, even if they didn’t trust them.

And the pandemic required cooperation, more than anything else. The mask mandates were a textbook example of the doctrine of self-interest well understood. After all, at an individual level, wearing a mask protected others, more than the wearer him- or herself. But if everyone stepped up and wore one, then the benefits would accrue to the whole community. In other words, a small sacrifice on the part of each person — a “small act of self denial” — could yield great benefits for the entire country: Not only could it save lives, but it would ensure that things could get back to normal more quickly.

The main reason I was hopeful was that the virus seemed like an “enemy” that Americans, regardless of party, could unite against. If there was ever a time when an “us vs. them” mentality could bring the country together — like it did against fascism during WWII, or against Communism during the Cold War — this seemed like a great opportunity. Imagine if there had been a collective effort, coming from the top, to “go to war” with this deadly adversary! I imagined the dramatic scene from Independence Day in my head:

OK so that didn’t happen. Almost three years and over one million U.S. deaths later, and with a price tag of $14 trillion dollars, it’s clear that COVID was not a great unifier. In fact, factoring in the social isolation caused by the virus — largely as a result of people refusing to wear masks or get vaccinated — COVID, if anything, probably accelerated the decline of social trust in the U.S.

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This brings me back to the opening quote for this post. I still firmly believe that, had Trump encouraged all Americans, from the get-go, to listen to the doctors, wear masks, and get vaccinated, the pandemic would not have unfolded the way it did. Of course there would have been a fringe faction (the libertarians and anti-vaxxers who have been around forever) who would have protested, but I actually think the vast majority of MAGA supporters would have followed his lead. And I just don’t think non-MAGA folks would have “rebelled” against this guidance, even if it was coming from Trump.

And here’s the thing: I think Trump knew that, which is why he didn’t do it. Bringing Americans together for a greater purpose would be fostering social trust — and that’s Kryptonite for the tyrant. In The Origins of Totalitarianism, Hannah Arendt writes:

It has frequently been observed that terror can rule absolutely only over men who are isolated against each other and that, therefore, one of the primary concerns of all tyrannical government is to bring this isolation about. Isolation may be the beginning of terror; it is certainly its most fertile ground; it is always its result….Isolation is that impasse into which men are driven when the political sphere of their lives, where they act together in the pursuit of a common concern, is destroyed.

Someone like Trump can’t afford to have people think of themselves as part of something bigger than themselves, or have a shared commitment to higher values and principles. After all, if Americans are loyal to each other, then they won’t be loyal to him.

More importantly, if people are willing to work together to solve common problems, then they don’t need a savior. Think back to the New York City traffic intersections: For a few hours, at least, New Yorkers didn’t need traffic lights, or policemen, or really any government intervention to keep things functioning. Had everyone been in it only for themselves, however, each individual may have welcomed a powerful authority to come in and take control.

Discussion questions:

1. How does participation in things like political and civic associations, religious institutions, community organizations, and informal clubs and leagues foster social trust? What specific habits do these activities socialize people into?

2. If COVID was a missed opportunity to generate social trust across cleavages in America, are there others ways we can still do so? In what areas of American life do you experience the generalized trust Tocqueville and Putnam describe (if you do)?

3. In what ways is the distinction between self interest and self interest well understood relevant in today’s social and political context?

1. It’s important not to conflate social trust with political trust (trust in government). Social trust fell after Watergate, as did (obviously) political trust. But I would argue that social trust was still high enough, relatively speaking, to create a shared sense of democratic values that not only prompted Republicans to encourage Nixon to step down in the collective national interest, but also led to many of the bipartisan reforms to strengthen institutional guardrails after, like the Ethics in Government Act of 1978 (which created the Independent Counsel), the Presidential Records Act, and intelligence oversight committees. Social trust and political trust are two separate things and, I think, healthy levels of the former can help correct for a loss of the latter.