I am a very trusting fellow. When I cross the street I trust the driver of the approaching vehicle to suppress whatever rage or hatred my appearance may inspire and not mow me down. I walk down the street trusting those within knife-range not to have a knife, or whoever has one not to be in the grip of an unfocused murderous passion, stoked by economic discontent, political discontent, social discontent, insanity or simple morbid curiosity ("What does it feel like to kill someone?"). I enter my neighborhood supermarket trusting no one has planted a bomb under the lettuce. I trust the lettuce not to be soaked in carcinogens. And so on and so on.

This is childishly naive of me, I know — but how else is one to live? It's a terrible dilemma we're caught in. A quick scan of any news outlet on just about any given day proves (if you trust the news outlet) that nothing can be trusted: Institutions are corrupt, individuals are unpredictable, nature is angry and getting angrier.

The dilemma is that, simply in order to live, we must trust what we know we cannot trust. We leave our houses knowing there are murderers and terrorists out there. We enter our houses, and our office buildings, knowing the walls may give way, the construction industry being rife with cost-cutting corner-cutting. We buy products that may not be sound, board trains knowing nothing of our fellow passengers or of the driver's health. We frequent restaurants without knowing what goes on in the kitchen. If we're ill we go to a hospital. Knowing nothing of medicine ourselves, and little of the medical professionals attending to us, we nonetheless commit ourselves to their care, generally without a second thought.