Trust: a prerequisite for rebuilding, or a reward to be earned?

What if we reversed the order of things to better support them?

There's an implicit message, rarely stated but often experienced: "Prove to us that you're trustworthy, and then we'll give you what you need." A stable job before housing. A clean criminal record before a chance at employment. Demonstrated stability before a relationship truly begins.

The order seems logical. Almost obvious. Trust is given to those who have earned it, and withheld from those who have not yet proven it.

But what if this order were, in many cases, reversed?

A logic that makes sense

First, let's be clear: this caution is not unreasonable. An employer checking references, a family hesitating before entrusting someone with a responsibility, an institution imposing conditions before offering a service—none of this necessarily stems from a lack of concern. It often arises from a legitimate desire to protect oneself, to protect others, or to use limited resources wisely.

This text therefore does not seek to condemn this caution. Rather, it seeks to examine a more nuanced question: in what order do we set our conditions, and does this order truly produce the results we hope for?

An example that changed an entire practice

For a long time, assistance to people experiencing chronic homelessness was based on a simple principle: first stability, then housing. A person had to demonstrate sobriety, undergo treatment, and prove they were "ready" before gaining access to permanent housing.

The model Housing first The Housing First model, developed in the early 1990s, reversed this logic. Individuals receive stable, permanent housing immediately, without any preconditions—neither sobriety nor mandatory psychiatric follow-up—and then support tailored to their needs is added from this foundation. The model's central argument is straightforward: it is easier to achieve stability once the most basic need—a home—is already met, rather than requiring stability as a condition for obtaining it.

This is not a naive gamble on human kindness. It is a model supported by decades of research, now widely recognized as more effective than the old approach in reducing chronic homelessness. It concretely illustrates the idea that trust placed first can be the breeding ground for change, rather than its reward.

What research on criminal desistance reveals

A similar observation exists in a completely different field: research on people who stop committing offenses after a period of criminal activity — what criminologists call desistance.

Criminologist Shadd Maruna studied why some people with long criminal records manage to turn their lives around permanently, while others relapse. One striking difference emerges from his work: people who achieve lasting reintegration develop what he calls a "redemption narrative"—a story in which they see themselves as capable of making a positive contribution, and in which others—relatives, service providers, sometimes institutions—recognize and "certify" this change rather than continuing to define them solely by their past.

Conversely, people caught in a "condemnation scenario" — where they themselves, and often those around them, continue to perceive them as irremediably marked by their past actions — are more likely to remain trapped in the cycle they were trying to leave.

In other words: being perceived as someone capable of change seems to be part of what makes change possible. Not just its consequence.

Why order might matter

Having to constantly prove one's reliability before receiving anything leads to more than just general fatigue. When someone systematically encounters mistrust, they sometimes end up internalizing that perception. The message received is no longer "be patient, you'll succeed," but something closer to "until you've achieved everything perfectly, you'll remain a risk." This mechanism is similar to one found elsewhere: a judgment made from the outside, repeated often enough, can become a voice we speak to ourselves.

This constant vigilance—the need to continually demonstrate, justify oneself, and anticipate the next test—also demands significant cognitive and attentional resources from someone already weakened by a difficult period, a criminal record, a migration experience, or a mental health issue. This energy is often the rarest resource, precisely when it would be most useful for rebuilding oneself rather than defending oneself.

This aligns with a well-documented idea in psychology: self-determination theory identifies autonomy, competence, and belonging as three fundamental psychological needs for well-being. Withholding trust from someone doesn't just affect their autonomy—it can also signal that they don't yet belong, undermining the sense of capability that makes change possible. The trust placed in someone is not merely a symbolic gesture; it directly impacts these needs.

The same mechanism is observed in mental health. Waiting until a person is 100% recovered before entrusting them with a responsibility, a social role or a place in a team can produce the same blockage as for housing or employment: the person must first demonstrate perfect stability to obtain the very opportunity that would allow them to build it.

What it is not

Reversing the order of things does not mean abolishing all discernment. The model Housing first It doesn't eliminate support—it organizes it differently. An employer can welcome a person with a criminal record with confidence while maintaining clear guidelines. A family can choose to trust a loved one in recovery while respecting its own boundaries.

Trusting first doesn't mean demanding, in return, a perfect narrative of change or an impeccable transformation before extending a hand. That would simply shift the condition—from proven stability to a sufficiently convincing story—without changing the underlying logic.

Trust given first is not the absence of structure. It is a different bet on what comes first: the accompanying structure, or the mistrust that precedes it.

A question to keep with you

The next time a condition is presented before assistance — a job before housing, proof before support, stability before a relationship — a question worth asking may be: does this condition actually protect someone, or does it simply delay the moment when the person could begin to rebuild their life?

There is no universal answer. But the question itself — in what order do we place our conditions — deserves to be asked more often than it is.

JIRIS will assist you

At JIRIS, we believe that the trust placed initially is not naive — it is a working hypothesis supported by concrete results, in homelessness as well as in post-judicial reintegration.

Our training programs encourage organizations, employers, and stakeholders to examine the order in which they set their conditions, without ever asking them to relinquish their own judgment.