Fractured trust: everyday life & the crisis of social confidence

In both rural hamlets and the sprawling urban corridors of Bangladesh, a quiet crisis brews beneath the surface of everyday interactions: a crisis of trust. Trust is the invisible social glue that binds institutions, communities, and individuals. Its erosion signals not only interpersonal dysfunction but also the breakdown of the moral fabric of society.

In recent decades, Bangladesh has experienced a growing climate of distrust that transcends geographical boundaries, social classes, and institutional domains. This crisis is not merely anecdotal but sociologically profound, rooted in structural conditions, political failures, and historical legacies of insecurity.

To understand the erosion of trust, we must begin with the sociological theorisation of trust. Anthony Giddens (1990) conceptualises trust as a form of confidence in the reliability of persons or systems in abstract systems of modernity. Niklas Luhmann (1979) views trust as a mechanism for reducing social complexity, enabling individuals to act without knowing all possible outcomes. Pierre Bourdieu (1986) connects trust with social capital—trust becomes both a precondition for, and a result of, durable networks of reciprocity and recognition.

In the context of Bangladesh, these theories help us understand how trust is situated within local institutions, including the family, schools, law enforcement, political parties, NGOs, markets, and the digital sphere. Each of these domains has witnessed visible and invisible fractures that have eroded confidence, resulting in a widespread social condition best described as “everyday distrust.”

Nowhere is this breakdown more pronounced than in Dhaka, the country’s political, economic, and social nerve centre. Trust is a scarce commodity in the chaotic urban landscape.

Take, for instance, the experience of public transportation. A commuter boards a rickshaw or CNG with the suspicion that he may be overcharged. Drivers, in turn, suspect passengers of cheating or escaping payment. In buses, women hesitate to enter due to fears of harassment, and passengers remain alert for pickpockets. Each of these micro-interactions is undergirded by the absence of mutual respect and the anticipation of betrayal.

Housing is another domain where distrust thrives. Tenants fear abrupt rent hikes or eviction; landlords suspect their tenants of engaging in illegal activities. This extends to apartment security guards, where residents may worry about their loyalties. In urban slums, the distrust is horizontal—neighbours surveil each other for signs of theft, adultery, or betrayal.

The market economy is replete with distrustful exchanges. In grocery stores and online platforms, consumers fear adulteration or scams. The rise of digital commerce has done little to improve confidence, largely due to widespread delivery fraud, inadequate consumer protection, and the inability to hold sellers accountable. Informal lending or credit in neighbourhood shops has declined, with owners becoming increasingly hesitant to offer trust-based transactions.

In governance, the breakdown is profound. From hospitals to police stations, citizens are wary of state institutions. They assume they will be ignored unless they bribe someone. A person seeking justice for a land dispute or sexual assault may hesitate to go to the police, fearing harassment or victim-blaming. Health services demand under-the-table payments for rightful treatments. This is not distrust born of rumour but lived experience, often reaffirmed through repeated institutional failure.

The education system, once a bastion of trust and respect, is now marred by corruption and inequality. Parents distrust the curriculum, the grading system, and the ideological agenda of schools. The scourge of leaked exam papers reflects a systemic moral failure where merit is no longer trusted as the basis of success.

Even digital interactions mirror this distrust. WhatsApp and Facebook groups are flooded with misinformation, political propaganda, and communal suspicion. People routinely question the authenticity of news, fearing manipulation. Surveillance and trolling by political actors have created a culture of self-censorship and suspicion. Digital trust, far from liberating users, has made them more anxious.

In rural areas, distrust manifests differently but no less pervasively. Traditional structures of mutual reliance—once regarded as the backbone of rural society—have been eroded by political interference, economic precarity, and shifting social norms.

Agricultural labourers suspect landowners of exploitation and wage fraud. Landowners suspect workers of theft or deliberate crop damage. The informal labour contract—once based on handshake trust—is increasingly replaced by rigid verbal agreements or family-based hiring.

Access to microcredit, once a symbol of empowerment, now breeds suspicion. Many borrowers accuse NGOs of exploitative interest rates, while lenders suspect borrowers of loan default and misuse. The local elites dominate microfinance committees, which often leads to the perception that these programs serve their interests, not the community’s.

Village arbitration councils (shalish), traditionally perceived as communal tools for conflict resolution, are often controlled by political or economic elites. People now fear bias, political reprisal, or public shaming. Victims of sexual violence or land grabbing avoid local mediation due to distrust in its fairness.

Family trust is also under strain. Migration has left many families fractured. The absence of a father or son abroad often breeds anxiety about land disputes, fidelity, and resource management. In-laws may suspect widows or wives of financial irresponsibility. Women, in turn, mistrust the intentions of male relatives regarding dowry, inheritance, and control.

Religious leaders—once respected figures—are now viewed with a complex mix of fear and suspicion. Some villagers believe they have become too politicised or co-opted by external ideologies. This affects not only sermons but also fundraising, education, and community welfare.

Whether rural or urban, distrust in Bangladesh cannot be delinked from political mismanagement. The monopolisation of power, the collapse of accountability mechanisms, and the culture of patronage have created a society where citizens do not expect institutions to function impartially.

Election processes are viewed with scepticism; voters often assume the results are predetermined. Corruption scandals in the health, education, and transport sectors reinforce public belief that the state serves itself, not its people. This perception is not only corrosive—it is contagious, spreading to all domains of life.

Citizens suspect their neighbours of being informants or agents of ruling-party affiliates. Political polarisation has shattered communities; even marriages or friendships may falter due to ideological differences. The state, instead of mediating public trust, becomes the very source of societal fragmentation.

The psychological cost of living in a society devoid of trust is immense. People experience chronic anxiety, loneliness, and hyper-vigilance. Social interactions become performative rather than genuine. Mental health deteriorates in the face of unpredictable betrayal—from institutions and individuals alike.

Distrust also breaks the generational bridge. Young people grow up learning not to trust teachers, the government, or even parents in some cases. The collapse of role models and moral reference points leaves them adrift in a society that appears normless.

Despite the bleakness, rebuilding trust is not impossible. Sociologists, such as Robert Putnam (2000), argue that dense networks of civic engagement, community-based institutions, and transparency in governance can help restore lost social capital. In Bangladesh, this could mean investing in accountable local governance, depoliticising education, enforcing consumer protection laws, and providing transparent digital public services.

Trust must also be rekindled in the informal sphere. Community radio, youth clubs, neighbourhood associations, and cooperative farming are spaces where horizontal trust can be re-established. Religious leaders, journalists, and educators must re-earn public respect through integrity and neutrality.

In short, while distrust in Bangladesh is pervasive and multidimensional, it is not terminal. But it requires systemic change, not cosmetic reforms. Only when citizens begin to expect honesty, fairness, and dignity from each other and their institutions will trust begin to flourish again.

Trust is not a luxury—it is the infrastructure of everyday life. Its absence cripples societies, fractures communities, and diminishes hope. The sociology of everyday distrust in Bangladesh suggests that this is not merely a moral decline, but a structural one, created and sustained by politics, economics, and cultural transformations. If we are to imagine a more cohesive, just, and humane Bangladesh, rebuilding trust must be our collective sociological project.

Dr Matiur Rahman is a researcher and development professional.

matiurrahman588@gmail.com