Why do we trust strangers online more than our neighbours?

Many people know more about influencers in another country than the people living next door. How did that happen?

Let’s be honest. Most of us have absolutely no idea who lives three doors down.

We know their car. We know their dog. We know they occasionally drill holes in walls at impossible hours. But their name?

Not a clue.

At the same time, many people can tell you exactly what some podcaster in Texas thinks about politics.

Or what some influencer in Dubai had for breakfast.

Or why a complete stranger on YouTube is apparently the only person telling the truth these days.

How did this happen? How did we become closer to strangers than to neighbours?

For most of human history, trust was local. You trusted the people you knew. The people you met. The people whose behaviour you could actually observe.

If John said he would help you repair the roof on Saturday morning, you knew whether John was trustworthy because you’d known him for fifteen years. If he never showed up, you knew that too.

Today? Someone can watch three videos online and suddenly trust people they’ve never met more than their own family.

Three videos.

Three.

Imagine explaining that to your great-grandfather. “Well, you see, Grandpa, this dude here has a microphone and, I must say, a very confident voice.”

Confidence often looks like competence. That’s true. Especially online.

A person says something with certainty. They sound convincing. They have followers. They have a podcast. They even have graphics to back this stuff up. Suddenly they must know what they’re talking about. Right?

Well. Maybe.

Or maybe they’re just very good at talking. There is a difference. A massive difference. A terrifying difference.

The internet has given us access to brilliant people. Unfortunately, it has also given us access to complete lunatics. And the problem is that both groups often use the same microphone.

So why do we trust strangers online more than our neighbours?

Perhaps because strangers are easier. Strangers don’t disappoint us. Strangers don’t borrow our lawnmower and forget to return it. Strangers don’t argue with us at Christmas. Strangers simply tell us what we already want to hear.

And human beings absolutely love hearing things they already agree with. But you see … that’s not wisdom. That’s comfort. And comfort is frankly a utterly poor substitute – for truth.