Trust

A while ago I was listening to a talk radio program on my local NPR station as I drove my teen-aged daughter to an appointment. The topic interested both of us: how parents can monitor internet access by their young children and teens. The guest was an IT executive who had written a book about protecting children from online threats. He detailed a list of precautions parents and schools could take to disable, limit and monitor internet use through computers, cell phones and video games. He also mentioned various software that could allow parents to control access to websites, or track and record the websites kids visit, right down to each individual keystroke. He clearly saw his efforts as part of a war to keep his children safe.

As my daughter and I listened, the author described how he sometimes would catch his teen looking over his shoulder as he worked on his computer, trying to capture the passwords he used. He saw it as a game between them, with his daughter trying to circumvent his controls and his working to stay a step ahead of her efforts.

The first caller into the show was another father who had installed tracking software on his home computer. His question was whether he ever should tell his children about the monitoring systems. The author’s answer was an immediate, unequivocal “NO.”

My daughter turned to me, horrified. I was pretty shocked myself. “’Why wouldn’t he tell them?” she asked. “Why would it be so bad for his kids to know?”

I dropped my daughter off, her question unanswered. So I took it upon myself to call into the show. I pulled over to the side of the road as I waited my turn. The author said that if kids knew about the tracking software, they would try to defeat it. I asked wouldn’t his efforts be more effective if he told his children why he felt the need to monitor their surfing, and how many bad actors there were on the ‘net. It seemed to me that as an IT executive, he could make a pretty strong case.

The author’s reply suddenly turned dramatic, with stories of children who had been abused or even killed by perps they met online. I wanted to return the conversation back to the issue of transparency and trust, but my five minutes of broadcast fame were over and they were on to the next call.

The discussion left me dissatisfied (as most incomplete discussions do). I felt that the author totally missed my point. I had no problem with the tools and options he offered parents to help keep their kids safe. What I did regret was the lost opportunity to provide guidance and learning to the children so that they could develop their own radar and safe practices for the internet. He never explained what he would do if his software did catch a visit to a dangerous website. How would he address his discovery? And how would his warnings and admonitions be received? Wouldn’t the first reaction from his children be “They’ve been spying on me. They don’t trust me. And I can’t trust them.”

This is a story about parenting, but its applications can move directly into a business environment. How many executives work to micro manage and control every contingency, without empowering their employees with the sense of confidence they need to handle the unexpected? In his effort to create a controlled, safe world for his kids, the author offered them no instruction on what to do when they encountered the Internet without his supervision -- at a friend’s home, or at the public library. The only learning his daughter seemed to gain was how to gather information through spying – just like her father.

In most relationships. growth requires some element of trust. The great thing is that whether trust is earned or abused, it still offers the opportunity for growth, for the truster and the trustee.

It’s not safe. But neither is life.