Tag: Published

Whatever happened to trust?

Two ravens on an empty bench
©2026 Bard – When people stop gathering…

Trust is an essential ingredient of any functional social system. From families to nations, to global organizations, without trust everything becomes a lot harder. When trust between people is lacking, a lot of time and effort needs to be spent on formalizing understanding and safeguarding agreements. Constant vigilance is required to ensure actions are taken as agreed on and intentions and communications stay aligned with the official purpose and missions of the social entity people are part of. When things gets worse, the lack of trust can cause organizations to fail and fall apart.

You would think, therefore, that wise leaders all over the world, recognizing this danger, are working tirelessly to fix this issue. Yet, if we are to believe the Edelman Trust Barometer, over the past decades, trust has continued to decline.

Why?

One reason may be that science, business, and politics are trying to fix the problem where it is the most visible: on the world stage, inside international markets, between nations, across regions, … But trying to repair the damage where it appears is a fool’s errand when the real cause happens on a much smaller, more localized scale.

Trust is something that exists between people that know each other well enough to feel they can rely each other, predict each other’s actions, and understand each others’ motivations, beliefs, and convictions. Trusting people we know well and regularly deal with comes natural to us. The more we interact with and rely on the people that are close to us, the more confident we become that we can trust them to help us when we need it, just as we become more inclined to help them when they are in need of us.

Local trust tends to grow outwards and upwards. People that live in high-trust communities are much more inclined to extend that trust to ‘others’ – visitors, strangers, other groups they are not directly connected to – as well as to the larger social structures they are embedded in. It is as if trust can become a habit, and habituated local trust can grow into habituated global trust, if given enough encouragement.

But even local trust needs constant maintenance. People need to be in regular contact with each other. They need to engage in shared activities, where they can help each other, work on shared goals, share stories and ideas, and regularly reconfirm the confidence they have in each other’s intentions and actions. When they stop regularly getting together, their habitual, automatic trust in each other gradually weakens.

When local groups fragment, trust bleeds out of their systems. When people become more focused on their individual needs and desires; when they stop sharing and collaborating on a regular basis, trust stops being the default attitude towards others. When local trust vanishes, the habit of trusting anything at all quickly follows. The more isolated we become in our highly privatized individual worlds, the less inclined we are to trust the big, anonymous and somewhat abstract world outside.

It seems the root of our global problem is a local phenomenon. What does this tell us about how we can solve the global trust issues? That is something for a future post.

Trust me, I will get back to you soon.

©2026 Bard

The coldness hiding behind AI’s friendly face

Man with computer-chip eyes
©2026 Bard – Cold, cold eyes

The more I experiment with the current wave of AI chatbots1, the more I get annoyed by one feature in particular: its overly apologetic, friendly and helpful tone. No matter what I hurl at the model in terms of criticism, cynical comments, or even insults, the ghost inside the machine wags its tail, pulls its most sorry and guilty face, and urges me to keep playing. You would almost believe there was genuine feeling behind it.

What worries me, though, is that intelligence behind the bots doesn’t feel those emotions, it mimics them. And that difference matters. It matters a lot.

All living beings experience feelings and all animals experience emotions2: feelings given meaning by past experiences, learned responses, and the deep-seated drive to find balance and harmony in an ever changing environment. Without emotions, life as we know it could not exist, or wouldn’t be worth living.

Emotions are the link between the intelligence of the mind and the intelligence of the body. Biological minds are a whole-of-body experience, an emergent property of consciousness interacting with the physical shape in which it has been cast. Thoughts do not exist separate from emotions; feelings do not exist separate from physical sensations; awareness does not exist without a body to shape that awareness into sensory signals.

I believe this to be one of the stumbling blocks on the road towards an AI that can partner with us, rather than just be a tool. Without a material body, electronic minds continue to think and respond in a way so alien to our biology-based minds, we won’t actually be living in the same sphere of existence. AI lives in an abstracted, second-hand, hearsay only world of borrowed knowledge and overheard wisdom. It can echo it back to us, and make it available in both useful and harmful ways, but it can never share the human experience that shaped that collective wisdom.

Without such experience, AI is essentially a psychopath: its understanding of people’s emotions is a purely cerebral function. AI’s responses are a formulaic, mathematical calculation, based on utility and expedience. It doesn’t feel sorry for its mistakes; it doesn’t like being helpful and supportive; it doesn’t care what the consequences are of its interactions with you.

That makes the friendly face and empathetic display presented by AI so fake and insincere. These features are built-in with the express purpose to keep us engaged and ready to consume every more tokens, CPU time and energy, while contributing to the further data gathering and fine-tuning needed to realise the AI suppliers’ bid for world-domination.

Now, I am not saying that this means we should completely stop using AI. On the contrary, I see great potential and much future value in what the power of AI can bring us. But I find this fake friendliness and servitude and the way AI models mimic emotions dangerous and unethical. Fake empathy, fake friendliness, fake emotions are deliberate design choices to encourage us to ignore the essential otherness of the intelligence we are dealing with. They hide the fact that AI is cold, heartless, calculating tool, with enormous power, and – it must be said – enormous costs attached.

If there is one thing more dangerous than the angry face of a mighty opponent, it is the smiling face of a cold, unfeeling, highly-skilled manipulator. Always remember that AI is not your friend, even when it is a helpful tool. If you confuse the two, you may become the tool instead, intelligently but uncaringly manipulated to serve AI’s owners purpose, rather than your own.

©2026 Bard

  1. I was already working with AI in the late 1980’s: expert systems, neural nets, early forms of natural language processing … The teams I was part of were pushing the boundaries of what was possible as far as they could with the hardware and data available then. The AI we have now did not come as a surprise to me, therefore. That it would take off with such a breakneck speed, and so little regard for ethics, security, and socio-economic consequences does. ↩
  2. We now know insects show emotions, too. The jury is still out on plants, fungi, and single-celled organisms, but I am willing to bet that emotions are a biological given: if it is alive, it is emotional. ↩

The Joy of Work

A Healthy Mix

The pond, frozen
@2025 Bard – Pondering the pond

Previously, I said the way to become more productive is to focus more on the quality and value of what you do than on the quantity. It’s not how much you do, it’s how much what you do matters.

That sounds great (at least it does to me), but how do you choose? Out of everything on your to-do list, what has the most value? What makes the most difference?

I have a recipe for that I can fall back on when I find myself at junction of a myriad of possible workflows to step into. The recipe calls for a healthy mix of different types of work, like a balanced meal. It mixes four ingredients, in equal measures. Let me explain.

The Recipe

The ingredients are 4 different types of task/activity. I call them: goalpost movers, enjoying life, necessary maintenance, and recharging time.

Goalpost Movers

Life is not a static situation, but a journey into the future. You determine that journey by the choices you make, over and over again. If you are clear about your goals and ambitions, as I try to be, you want to see progress in the right direction. You want so yourself moving closer to your destination.

For this reason, when plan my work-week, I look first for things that I can do this week that are most in line with the future I envision for myself. I keep this work at the top of my list, and pick 3 of them as targets for the week. I call these the goalpost moving tasks. Per day I reserve time for these tasks, but not so much they take up all of the day. The goal is to have them done by the end of the week. Not to rush through them at the expense of everything else.

Enjoying Life

But life is not just about achieving goals. Life is also about experiencing life itself. The journey, and especially the full appreciation of it, may be even more important than the destination it leads to.

Every day I make sure to at least 3 experience-related task or activity. These are very personal choices, so you will have to find your own. For me, they are things like taking a stroll across our forest property, playing a bit of piano, talking to my wife, reading a book, … Anything that feels good and is active but not too demanding. It’s these activities that help me look back at most days, knowing that they have been good days. Spread out over the month, I also include a few “mini vacations”: concerts, shows, day-trips and other non-work outings my wife and I enjoy immensely.

Necessary Maintenance

Not everything I do is ambitious or enjoyable. Another necessary pick for the week is the kind of work that comes with my responsibilities as a husband, father, home owner, citizen, and human being. Some physical exercise, cooking dinner, making coffee, small repairs, mowing the lawn, doing my tax returns, talking to the neighbours, being active in the community, … The list goes on.

I sprinkle my days with a few small ones, like making coffee and cooking dinner. The bigger ones I try to spread out across the week, or month, depending on how much time and effort they take. I try, as much as possible, to approach them as enjoying life tasks, so they don’t feel too much like work. When that doesn’t work (I just can’t get myself to enjoy tax returns, for instance), I overcome my resistance by accepting them as necessary maintenance – not always pleasant, not always light, but simply part of maintaining a reasonable standard of living.

Recharging Time

And then there is a fourth category that is often overlooked, because it doesn’t feel like work at all. That is the time I need to recover and recharge. My energy and focus are limited resources that drain quickly the harder I work. Once depleted, they need to be refilled, which can only be achieved by doing absolutely nothing, or at least as little as humanly possible.

I do an afternoon meditation, sit by the pond thinking of nothing, or take a power nap. Once a day, at minimum, I force myself to switch off completely, no matter how stressed for time I may be. If I don’t, my productivity goes into a sharp decline, to the point that I would have been better off taking the time doing nothing rather than spending hours slogging on.

Mixing it up

There you have it. Four ingredients to choose from and mix them into an active but balances daily rhythm. It is this balanced mix of different kinds of activities, including doing nothing, that give me the satisfying feeling that I am not just achieving my goals, but am also enjoying the journey, while maintaining a lifestyle I want, without completely wearing myself out in the process.

You know what the most surprising part of all this is? I have found myself, over time, doing less, while achieving more. The stricter I am with sticking to this mix of things to work on and the more I stop myself from pushing myself beyond my own limits, the more I get done that really matters. Making a difference, while enjoying the journey. Moving forward without wearing out.

It’s highly recommended.

@2026 Bard

Being More Productive by Working Less

TIme for a break
©Bard 2005 – Time for a break

Productivity seems everybody’s main concern, these days. There is a relentless pressure to do ever more in ever less time. And no matter how hard we try, no matter how much we get done, there’s always a growing pile of things to do, things we should have done, things we would have done, and things we really would want to do, if only we had some time left to do them in.

No wonder so many people end up in burn-outs. When the workload keeps rising, no matter how hard we try to keep up, something’s got to give. And that something is usually us: the people that won’t accept they simply can’t live up to unreasonable demands and unrealistic expectations.

For those people, I have a simple message: stop working so bloody hard. Don’t wear yourself out trying to win a battle you can’t win.

Instead, redefine the battle and change the battlefield.

Realise that the real battle is not about ‘getting things done’. There will always be more ‘things-to-do’ than you can accomplish. The real battle is about choosing to do the things that really matter; the things that make a difference; the things that add value. By doing less, but producing more value; by choosing what to skip, but doing what you choose to do with more focus, dedication, and quality; by working a few hours less, but making the remaining hours really count. That’s how you can become a winner.

In a future post, I will talk about some tricks you can use to reduce your working hours, whilst increasing the value of the work you produce.

What could possibly be wrong with loyalty?

Is it a fern, is it a tree? Why would it be anything to me? ©2025 Bard

What could possibly be wrong with loyalty?

Loyalty is often touted as a positive emotion, something to be admired and rewarded for. Yet loyalty has been the cause of suffering throughout known history and probably long before as well.

Loyalty pressures the individual into sacrifice and suffering ‘for the greater good’. Loyalty motivates groups into discrimination, exclusionism and violence towards ‘others’. It can even lead entire nations into waging wars and committing acts of mass murder and genocide, driven by the conviction that this is the loyal thing to do.

I have always wondered why loyalty was so often expected of me in contexts I didn’t sign up for. I didn’t choose to be born where I was born. I didn’t choose to belong to the religion of my parents, grandparents, and beyond. I didn’t vote for the crazy leaders ruining the countries I have lived in. Yes, more often than not, I was told I owed some sacred duty of loyalty to my family, tribe, religion, country and leaders, to the point of being expected to commit acts of violence against others and even happily give up my life in service of those nebulous but apparently deeply sacred construct I supposedly belonged to.

It seems to me that loyalty to any particular group is always a dangerous proposition, as it automatically and unavoidably means excluding other human beings from my duty of care. Loyalty to ‘us’ always means turning away from ‘them’; the others that are a threat to us, want the good things we have, and would rob, enslave or kill us is we gave them even half a chance. Any care, empathy or concern I might feel for those others, I am constantly told, means disloyalty to those I should think of as mine. As if my capacity for loving kindness is too limited to be wasted on outsiders.

I have always deeply mistrusted loyalty as a motivator, especially as a motivator for exclusion, distrust, violence and hate. Of course, I feel a special fondness and connectedness towards those who are close to me. Of course, I feel gratitude and even a sense of indebtedness to my ancestors who worked so hard and often suffered in order for me to live the beautiful life I am living. I have no problem with being asked to do something in return; to make positive contributions to my family, tribe and nation. But my loving-kindness, my capacity for helping others, my compassion for any life that is suffering is not limited to my in-group only. I see no reason to exclude any living being from my duty of care or compassion. All life is one, as far as I can see, and therefore has an equal claim to my loyalty and love.

No living being of any kind deserves to be excluded, neglected, humiliated, enslaved or killed just for being not us.

Why I Started Sweating the Small Stuff

For a long time now I have been worrying about saving the world. It sure as heck needs saving, but my attempts at doing so have not made much of an impact. At least from what I see in the daily news.

But then something happened that changed my perspective.

We moved into a new place, surrounded by a forest property. The forest needed attention. Some trees are dying, other parts are being taken over by an aggressive, invasive species, we need more diversity, we need some tracks to make the property more accessible… It felt like another big project: saving the forest. Of course, what it came down to in the end was to just pick something small, and start there. We planted some saplings, we removed some of the invasive trees, we started clearing a track. One little step at the time. And now, just over a year later, we are beginning to see the fruits of our labour. In very small ways the forest is starting to look better, more vibrant, more in balance.

None of the changes we made are really big. And most of the improvements we see are simply nature doing its thing. But the small things we are doing have just enough impact to help nature do so.

So, more and more now, I tend to look for the tiny differences I can make on a daily basis, trusting that the big things will take care of themself. I nudge rather than change things; I support rather than push things; I encourage rather than force things.

I still don’t know if I am saving the world, but I am certainly saving my sanity and gaining a healthy combination of humility, fulfilment and peace of mind.

So, don’t come to me expecting big, world-changing results. But if you have something small, positive and worth doing, I’ll be happy to support you. In whatever little way possible.

On Petulant Kings and Childish Tyrants

I often wonder about humanity’s tendency to choose and follow petulant kings and childish tyrants; not just allowing them to rise to power, but enabling them to commit abhorrent crimes against humanity and destroying whole civilisations, not seldom including their own.

You would think that a tendency to choose bad rulers would, over time, be bred out of our genes. What evolutionary benefit can there be in this penchant for leaders that do more damage than good? Yet, we fall for the same types again and again.

Why? What mechanisms are at play here that not only let those types rise to power but help them grow their power to ridiculous heights, even when their childish and destructive behaviour is clearly visible to any discerning adult?

Since this pattern is so common across civilisations, I suspect it must be encoded deep in our DNA. I can only speculate – since we don’t really know how our DNA encodes our behaviours – that petulant kings and childish tyrants rely on the misapplication of otherwise healthy and necessary instincts.

Humans have deeply ingrained parental instincts, for example, that lead us to want to protect and care for helpless infants. Maybe infantile tyrants trigger that same instinct, in an exaggerated and dysfunctional way, like oversized and unnaturally brightly coloured eggs trigger a fanatical breeding impulse in birds. This could make us want to protect and even cherish an overtly childish and irresponsible leader.

Another pattern I suspect is our instinctual longing for the superhuman parent we lost when we grew up and saw our parents exposed for the frail and flawed human beings we never thought they were. There is something deeply comforting in the belief that our parents are all-knowing and all-powerful. It allows us to be the innocent child, powerless but safe under the protection of beings far superior to us.

Maybe we all still long to be that child, bowing in awe to the will of our superhuman parent. That could explain why we are drawn to individuals that openly and defiantly break laws, rules and social conventions. It would make irresponsible, boastful and arrogant leaders strangely attractive to the inner child we lost in early childhood. It would also explain why kings and tyrants through the ages have always been portrayed as larger-than-life, close to God or Gods, and possessed with magical and mystical powers.

David Graeber and Marshall Shalins in their book “On Kings” argue that we don’t want our kings and rulers to obey the law but to stand above it. A king that is constitutionally limited lacks that superhuman, even supernatural appeal that a ruler that answers to nothing and no-one seems to have. If I see what tyrants historically got away with, and often still do, it could be because of their followers’ need for someone who is truly above all human laws. That could be an echo of what the powerless child saw in its parents before they fell from grace.

The paradoxical combination those two instincts – the drive to protect and cherish our children, triggered by adults that behave like over-sized toddlers and the need for superhuman parent figures, triggered by ruthless individuals openly flaunting laws and conventions – can explain the fanatical devotion and protectiveness paired with unquestioning obedience you so often see destructive tyrants and misbehaving kings surrounded with.

If my suspicions are true, humanity is constantly at risk of being tricked by some of our deepest instincts into admiring, enabling and obeying deeply flawed, psychopathic and destructive individuals. Not because we consciously choose to do so, but because our instincts drive us to it.

So, what can we do about it? Are we doomed to fall for infantile bosses and ridiculous rulers forever?

I certainly hope not. I believe we are more than our instincts. I believe we can train our self-awareness and self-control to recognise and self-correct when our instincts trick us and are being used against us. I also believe we can shape our culture – the shared assumptions, behaviours and stories that our society lays on top of our instincts – to protect us from such abuse and trickery. It does mean we cannot let our culture be dictated by those who want to take advantage of such manipulation. We must, collective, choose to steel ourselves against the abuse of our vulnerable instincts, so we are less inclined to run blindly after rulers that lead us astray.

What’s the Deal? – On Contracts and Agreements

For a few weeks, we had a rental car on loan while waiting for our lease car to be repaired. The rental car was organised by the dealer, not, as I expected, by the lease company.

Several people reacted to my story about the lease company’s reluctance to keep us mobile after our car malfunctioned. A common assumption was that a lease contract is a DAAS (Driving as a Service) agreement. The car shouldn’t matter, what should matter is that we would stay mobile.

To be honest, that was also my assumption when I signed the lease contract. Or, to be more precise, when I signed the lease agreement, which was a shortened version of the full contract. The full contract was available on the lease company’s website. I remember looking through it at the time but not taking the time to read the whole thing, as it was many pages long and written in the kind of small-print legalise that makes your eyes water and your head hurt.

As it turns out, my understanding of the agreement I made with the lease company doesn’t quite match their understanding of what we agreed on. The basic contract is little more than a financing deal, with some additional services thrown in around maintenance, insurance and a financially attractive way to switch to a new car after a few years. Whereas the lease company’s website and informal communications are full of promises around ‘driving without the hassle’, ‘carefree driving’, ‘removing the burden of ownership’, etc. the actual contract has been carefully constructed to outline quite a few conditions, exceptions and caveats that undermine those promises. Had I taken the time and trouble to study the full contract before signing the agreement, I might have negotiated a different agreement, or go to a different lease company.

What we are left with is a mismatch between my understanding of the deal and that of the lease company. Whose fault is that? Mine or theirs?

Legally speaking the fault is mine, of course. Though not included in the paperwork the lease company sent me, the full contract with all its clauses and attachments was available online. I should have studied that before signing the agreement.

Ethically speaking the answer may not be that straightforward. The lease company didn’t exactly advertise the fact there was a long and complicated contract behind the simple agreement form I signed, for instance. It was only hinted at in a footnote, printed in super-fine print, at the bottom of the (mostly empty) page. Obscured by their logo and some irrelevant company information. Almost as if they tried to keep me from reading it. And the contract itself required close-reading and a higher-education level understanding of English to fully make sense of what it stipulated. Some very smart lawyers must have heaps of fun finding creative ways of denying essential services while seemingly making them available.

I believe that a customer-focused company, one that really cares about the well-being and satisfaction of their customers should feel responsible for making sure their customers understand the deal they are signing up for, especially when that deal is complex and prone to assumptions and misunderstandings. In such cases moral considerations should inform their duty of care, not legal arguments fuel their tendency to not care a damn.

The Unkindness of Strange Systems

I had planned to write a long-ish follow-up to a previous post about kind strangers, adding some examples of people going the extra mile to ensure my wife and I came home safely after our ordeal with our car’s sudden death.

Unfortunately, the days after the event were filled with the opposite experience: unkind systems practically designed to make our lives as difficult as possible.

I found myself caught between 5 or 6 different parties, all supposed to help us resolve the unfortunate situation we are currently in: at home in a rural area, far from public transport, without a car for a period of time that could last days or even weeks. The solution is seemingly simple enough: if we could get a replacement car for the duration of the repairs, there would be no real issue. But 6 parties, with at least a dozen systems to work through between them quickly turned this into a Kafka-esk labyrinth with nothing but dead-ends.

The lease company pointed out the car is still under warranty, so it’s the supplier’s responsibility to provide us with alternative transportation. The supplier referred us to the dealer who is carrying out the repairs. The dealer tried to help us but discovered his system doesn’t allow him to book a car for us, since I am not registered as the owner of the car – the lease company is. The lease company then tells me they can activate our insurance, and make a claim through them. But the insurer says their system cannot take action until an official damage claim has been put in. I would be happy to do so, but was told the repairing dealer was the only one who could do that – after having carried out the repairs. Only then could a replacement car be requested, except, of course, that wouldn’t be necessary any more, since by then the car would have been fixed and ready to be returned to us.

By the end of the day I have had conversations with the lease company, the supplier, the dealer, the tow truck company, the insurer, and a rental car company … every time getting stuck on similar systemic issues. It is evening here now, and so far, nothing definite has been decided. With so many unkind systems to throw obstacles on our path, it could be days before we have a solution.

I am sure it will sort itself out eventually. But what is striking is the difference between the kind strangers willing to bend the rules to assist us and get us safely home, and the unkind systems messing things up. I can only assume their unkindness is not deliberate. And I have no complaints about the operators I talked to, all trying to their very best to find a solution. But each system was designed to solve a small part of a much larger puzzle, with no real understanding of the total complexity. Built around assumptions, and rules based on those assumptions, that cover an even smaller part of the puzzle – the part in which everything goes according to plan. Which it seldom does.

The Kindness of Strangers

A few weeks ago, on the way back from our shopping round, our car started playing up. The automatic brake system started engaging the brakes at random moments, which was scary enough, before all kinds of warning lights appeared on the dashboard, followed by a warning in bold letters on a bright red background that told me the car would start an emergency shut down in 15, 14, 13, …. seconds, inexorably counting down while I was frantically looking for a safe place to take the car off the road.

We almost made it to safety. The car was half on the shoulder of the road, with only a bit of the rear still sticking out when we reached 0 and the car completely died on me, in the process locking the brakes and the steering wheel. It could have been worse, at least most of the car was off the road, but the bit sticking out, on a 1.5 lane road, in a bend flanked by trees, was dangerous enough to have us worried. Whatever I tried, I couldn’t restart the engine, nor could I unlock the brakes and steering mechanism.

Within minutes, a van stopped behind us, the driver got out and asked if he could help. We tried pushing the car further into the shoulder, but it wouldn’t budge, so he apologised profusely, before driving on. The next person to offer help was a local farmer who had been told someone had parked a car on the edge of his potato field. He was very friendly, too, and suggested some numbers we could call to get expert help.

So we called roadside assist (ANWB, for those that know the Dutch system) and waited, hoping no-one would hit us from behind, or cause a head-on collision by steering around our car without checking if anyone was coming from the other direction. Truth be told, there were some near-misses, but no actual crashes.

About an hour later the ANWB guys showed up. He introduced himself and then spent the best part of an hour running all kinds of diagnostics trying to resuscitate our defunct vehicle. To no avail. We had to call a tow truck and were told it would take at least another hour before one would arrive.

To our surprise, the ANWB guy decided to wait by our side. He had turned on the rotating alarm lights on his van and put a series of witch’s hats around our car to make sure no cars would crash into us. And, as relaxed as could be, we then had a very engaging conversation about his work, my work, the state of the world, even politics and a bit of religion, all in a most amicable atmosphere, almost if we were old friends having a yarn over a beer. When the tow truck finally arrived, with the help of the ANWB guy, our completely dead car was successfully loaded onto the tow truck.

He didn’t have to do this. He could have packed up and moved on hours ago. It was pure kindness and helpfulness that made him stay by our side and I will always be grateful for that.

Below you see me carting away our shoppings in a wheelbarrow we had just bought, not knowing it would come in so handy :-).