Taking Responsibility

This way emphasises that human life is primarily social. This means that each human being must consider how others behave, and how they will respond to his own behaviour, in deciding how to act himself. Even Gyges and Borgia had to do this, in order to achieve their dastardly ends. Thus the possibility of relying on each other to behave and respond in predictable, manageable ways is particularly valuable for human beings. Now, such reliance can be ensured by the detection and punishment which Glaucon and Hobbes emphasise, the love and sympathy which Hume emphasises, or the sense of morality which Locke, Kant and Marx emphasise. But the heart of trust, as another way of ensuring such reliance, lies elsewhere. For my reliance on others can be ensured simply by their taking responsibility for how their behaviour will influence my decisions about how to act in a particular regard. For example, they can take responsibility for my health, my security, or my bike, and so take responsibility for ensuring that I can rely on them in making my decisions about my health, security, or bike. This taking of responsibility, rather than love, sympathy, or a sense of morality, is the ‘good disposition’, or ‘trustworthiness’, on which I rely in trusting another. Indeed, if I believe that the other appears ‘trustworthy’ only because it coincides with his own interests, or even his love, sympathy, or sense of morality, I cannot believe that he really is trustworthy and so cannot trust him. I can then rely on him only in the common sense, by relying on detection and punishment, or his love, sympathy, or sense of morality. I cannot genuinely claim to trust him if I believe that I can rely on him only by resorting to such things.

Such taking of responsibility is part of being a friend, a lover, or a spouse, and a particularly important part of being a professional, an official, or a politician. If I trust the doctor to prescribe me appropriate treatment, I rely on her because I believe that she has taken responsibility for her role in my decisions about my health. Indeed, I may even allow her to effectively make these decisions for me. Similarly, I may rely on a policeman or policewoman, a judge, or a politician because I believe that they have taken responsibility for using the coercive powers of the state in certain legitimate ways and for certain legitimate purposes. I may thus rely on them when I make decisions about my safety or my property, for example. And even in more personal relationships, when I can rely more on another’s love for me, I still cannot trust them as a friend, lover, or spouse unless I also believe that they have taken responsibility for the particular, intimate role which they play in my life.

We must often leave exactly how others may fulfil such responsibilities relatively indeterminate, just because we often lack expertise in the area concerned, and are unable to predict contingencies. In trusting, we therefore allow the trusted some discretion. But this does not give them carte blanche to do as they wish. Their taking responsibility implies that they cannot intentionally lead us to rely on them in ways they cannot or will not satisfy, since this would conflict with our basic reason for trusting them. They must therefore be at least competent and honest. Nor can they simply ‘take responsibility’ for something which we could not want them to take responsibility for. (Imagine a thief who claimed that he was just ‘taking responsibility’ for my bike!) And, although one cannot genuinely trust others if one resorts only to reliance on detection, punishment, love, sympathy, or a sense of morality, one can certainly make some use of such resorts without necessarily failing to trust. Making judgements about such matters again requires discretion, however, if we are to avoid replacing genuine trust with common reliance.

If we stick to a picture of human beings as ...