I was driving with my wife and daughter one afternoon when they tuned into their favorite guilty pleasure, a local radio program called Ryan’s Roses. The premise is simple and predictably dramatic. A woman suspects her man is cheating. She calls the show. The hosts offer the suspected cheater a free dozen red roses and a love note to send to whomever he has on his mind. Predictably, he sends them to his mistress. The scorned lover, secretly listening to the entire conversation, erupts. Drama ensues. It is the kind of spectacle that makes you cringe, and yet you cannot look away.
On this particular day, however, there was a twist. This time, a man suspected his wife. Instead of calling her directly, the hosts called her personal trainer. They made the same offer. A dozen roses and a love note to anyone he wanted. The trainer, without hesitation, said to send them to the wife. The message was simple and damning. Cannot wait to see you this weekend. Looking forward to our alone time. The husband, who had been listening in silence, broke in. His voice was sharp, angry, and disbelieving. Are you having an affair with my wife? Usually, the accused would duck and dodge, scramble for an excuse, and try to get off the call as quickly as possible. But not this trainer. He paused for a beat, then said in a voice that sounded like it came straight out of the classic surf movie North Shore, “Yup.” The husband was incensed. What? You admit it? And the trainer, calm as ever, replied, “Honesty’s the best policy, brah.”
For some reason, that surfer trainer voice has stuck with me ever since. Honesty is the best policy. It is sage advice, delivered with the laid-back confidence of California beach culture. High on ethics, yet somehow low on moral standards. Much like our California politicians, who love to tell us how to live our lives while leading lives that would rival the ancient Roman Senate. I have paused more than once to wonder, is this sentiment actually correct? Is honesty indeed the best policy?
The answer, I have come to realize, is both yes and no. Honesty is the best policy, but only within the context of a trust relationship. Without trust, honesty can be dangerous. It can cause damage to yourself and to others, often unintentionally. When there is no foundation of trust and the other party’s intent is unclear, having no filter is not virtuous. It is reckless.
Consider the most effective and productive relationships you have ever had. Whether in business, friendship, or family, the ones that stand out are those where honesty is honored and respected as a core pillar. These are the relationships where you can speak your truth without fear of manipulation or retaliation. Where you can say what you really think, and the other person will listen, consider, and respond with equal honesty. These relationships are rare. When you find one, you hold onto it because it is worth more than riches.
In a trust relationship, honesty becomes the fabric that holds everything together. It allows for speed. It removes the need for endless qualifications, hedging, and political maneuvering. When you trust someone, and they trust you, you can move quickly. You can make decisions without second-guessing. You can speak plainly without worrying that your words will be twisted or used against you. Trust is speed, and honesty is the fuel that makes it possible.
But trust is not automatic. It is built over time, through consistency, through reliability, through demonstrated intent. Intent is the single most significant factor in creating a trust relationship. You can have all the expertise in the world, but if your intent is suspect, trust will never form. People will always know your intent. You may think you can hide it, but you cannot. It shows through in your tone, cadence, expression, word choice, and actions. What you choose to focus on and what you choose to ignore. No matter how you may think you can conceal your intent, it will always come through. Loud and clear.
This is why honesty without trust is so dangerous. If the other person does not trust your intent, your honesty will not be received as truth. It will be accepted as manipulation, as an attack, as a power play. You may think you are being helpful, but without trust, your words will land poorly. They will cause damage. They will create distance instead of connection.
I have learned this the hard way. There have been times when I spoke my truth without considering whether the relationship could handle it. I thought I was being honest, but I was really just being careless. I did not pause to consider whether the other person trusted me, understood my intent, or was ready to hear what I had to say. The result was no clarity. It was confusion, hurt, and sometimes outright conflict.
Honesty requires tact, courage, and humility. It requires you to be tentative, to leave room for the possibility that you are wrong. It requires you to explain how you arrived at your truth, to invite the other person to test you, and to ask if you are off base. This kind of honesty is not about proving you are right. It is about creating a space where both people can speak freely, learn, and grow.
In a trust relationship, this kind of honesty is not only possible but also essential. It is what allows the relationship to deepen, to become more meaningful, to withstand the inevitable challenges that come with time. Without it, the relationship remains superficial, transactional, and fragile.
So yes, honesty is the best policy. But only when trust is present. Only when intent is clear. Only when both people are willing to be vulnerable, to be genuine, to be real. In those relationships, honesty is not just the best policy. It is the only policy. And when you find a relationship like that, you hold onto it. Because it is rare. And it is worth more than anything else you will ever see.
