Dr. Khaled Walid Mahmoud
What if our most precious human virtues were, at the same time, our most dangerous points of vulnerability? In the moral imagination, trust appears as a pure value, untouched by doubt. Yet modern experience—especially in the era of cyberspace and digital transformations—reveals that trust can also become a point of penetration. In this field, trust is not treated as a human virtue, but as a variable that raises the level of risk when granted without safeguards.
From here emerged the principle of “Zero Trust” as one of the most rigorous and realistic philosophies of protection, summed up in a clear rule: Never grant trust by default… always verify. What is striking about this model is that it is not merely technical; it opens a window for a deeper understanding of our social relationships, which are increasingly formed within an environment filled with polished façades and rapid impressions—where closeness seems easy, but not always safe.
As is well known, the digital system does not reward good intentions, nor does it bet on a good first impression. It understands that danger does not always arrive with an openly hostile face, and that a breach may be carried out through friendly language, a stolen identity, or privileges granted beyond what is necessary. For this reason, trust in modern systems is not built on a single moment of acceptance followed by permanent relaxation, but on a different logic: identity must be proven, privileges must be earned, and access is granted according to need—not according to familiarity. This idea—despite its apparent harshness—holds a deep wisdom: it redefines trust as a process to be managed, not a gift to be handed out, and ties it to behaviour and continuity rather than emotional impulsiveness.
When we apply this approach to human relationships, we find that the problem is not trust itself, but the way it is distributed. We now live in a time where slow accumulation is no longer a condition for forming relationships; relationships are consumed quickly, and familiarity is sometimes manufactured within hours as if it were a long history.
We meet others not as they truly are, but as they want to appear; we meet the formulation rather than the essence, the words rather than what proves them, and the façade more than the truth. We are drawn to fast clarity, easy closeness, and harmony that looks like fate—only to discover later that what we took as fate was merely a perfectly performed role for a brief moment, or a calculated response to a passing need.
Here a fundamental question emerges: Do we know how to manage trust—or do we distribute it as if it costs nothing? In digital systems, risk does not stop at the gate of entry. That is why Zero Trust does not rely on the idea of “verifying once,” because an intruder can pass unnoticed, a friend can impersonate a friend, and even the insider can become a threat if intentions shift or tools change.
Hence the model is built on continuous verification—not out of obsession, but from an awareness that an error in trust is not a simple mistake; it can be a flaw that pulls an entire structure into collapse.
On this basis, it is not difficult to see the social counterpart of this logic. We too carry “sensitive data” that does not appear on a screen: our secrets, our memories, our fragile spaces, and the scars we hide behind normal behaviour. We too grant privileges—often without realizing it: the privilege to enter our day, our depths, and details we once believed should be spoken only to those who truly deserve them.
Yet what often happens is that we offer these privileges to those who master presence rather than those who master loyalty; to those who are skilled with language rather than those grounded in ethical consistency; to those who provide a quick sense of reassurance rather than those capable of carrying the responsibility of closeness.
Deception in relationships does not always come as obvious evil that is easy to detect. Sometimes it comes with a kind face, warm presence, and words that know exactly how to pat the emptiness within us. And sometimes the danger is not a bad person as much as it is a fragile one: inconsistent, impulsive—promising much and proving little—offering great warmth and then withdrawing without explanation.
In both cases, the result is the same: trust is given in a full dose, then taken away as if it never existed, leaving an impact closer to a breach than to ordinary disappointment. What drains a person here is not only the departure, but the realization that they allowed someone into zones that should never be opened except gradually.
Therefore, “doubt” in this context does not seem like the vice we have long portrayed it to be. It may, instead, be a highly rational protective behaviour—not hostile doubt that hates people or judges them in advance, but conscious doubt that understands closeness does not always mean safety, chemistry does not equal ethics, and beautiful words mean nothing if they are not proven in moments of truth. The real test of a person does not appear in good moods, but in moments of disagreement, pressure, and absence—and in their ability to preserve respect when interest fades and commitment becomes costly.
From here, the point is not to live in permanent suspicion, but to learn how to build trust gradually: not granting “full privileges” from the first meeting, not opening our psychological doors to those who know how to enter quickly, and understanding that a relationship is not an emotional decision in a single moment, but a path that requires accumulating evidence.
Just as privileges in cybersecurity are managed according to the principle of “Least Privilege,” relationships too can be governed with a similar intelligence—not because we reduce humans to files, but because we protect ourselves from depletion. Not everyone who comes close deserves to know more; not everyone who smiles deserves our wager; not everyone who shares a long conversation deserves to hold a fragile detail of our life.
In conclusion, the “cyber mindset” is no longer a purely technical concept, but a cognitive tool for understanding our social behaviour in an age of manipulation and rapid impressions. In cybersecurity, blind trust is not a virtue—it is an attack surface and a delayed breach. In relationships, free trust is not simply kindness; it may be a psychological vulnerability that costs its owner greatly.
What is needed is not the abolition of trust, but its governance: making closeness resemble access within a system—an identity proven, behaviour tested, and privileges granted according to need. Only in this way can a person remain human without turning their heart into an open space for every passerby, preserving warmth without paying for it through repeated exhaustion.
— The writer is a researcher specializing in cyber politics, holding a PhD on the topic of “Cyberspace and Power Shifts in International Relations.”
The writer is a researcher specializing in cyber politics, holding a PhD on the topic of “Cyberspace and Power Shifts in International Relations.”
