Promises depend on the person. It takes at least two to create an accountable promise. When someone makes a promise to themselves, the two “parties” are them and the concept they have projected into their own mind. When promises involve at least two humans, they must be based on agreement from both parties. And behind that agreement there must be faith — faith in the other person, and faith in the premise of the promise itself.
Not all promises are real promises. Some are flimsy declarations, set in an unrealistic view of the world. Consider “I promise to love you forever.” How could anyone honestly make such a promise? With so much uncertainty in life, such a claim cannot be known. What makes it meaningful is not the literal wording, but the intention behind it: “Right now, I feel I could love you forever.” But does that count as a true promise — one that binds you for life because of a temporary feeling? No.
A promise needs weight. It must involve sacrifice from one or both parties. If there is no real intention to stay true to it over time, it is meaningless. In an ideal world, promises are true to their word: verbal agreements that display trust, whether reconciling or proactive. If you hold no value to your words, you hold no value in displaying your intentions.
Sometimes promises must be broken, and that is acceptable — but only when the premise has changed. Promises are made within a certain landscape, and if the environment shifts, the premise may no longer hold. In such cases, the promise must be addressed, not concealed. Only promises with absurd infinite terms, like “forever,” can be truly broken.
Trust functions like a gauge. There is no better way to fill that gauge than by aligning your words with your intentions. When promises are kept, trust increases more rapidly than in almost any other way. It shows that you can be relied upon. The greater the intention, the greater the trust that follows.
The opposite is also true. Breaking promises rapidly empties the gauge, weakening the meaning of your words — even if circumstances were beyond your control. Human beings are egocentric by nature. Our own sphere of concern always feels most important. That bias shapes how we interpret broken promises: when a promise is not fulfilled, it is difficult not to take it personally.
An empty promise is a lie. If there was never any intention behind it, it is a lie. If you know it cannot be fulfilled, it is a lie. A partially fulfilled promise is also a lie, because it misrepresents the intention at its origin. Whenever promises are made to manipulate emotions or gain advantage, they collapse into lies.
Politicians are the clearest example. They make empty promises with little intention of following through. Some are untenable, others lacklustre, but all are manipulative. In Britain, public trust in politicians is already so low that these practices are almost accepted as normal. The “gamification” of politics — where politicians choose stances not based on belief but on winning — corrodes promises even further.
Consider the example from Brexit: Boris Johnson allegedly drafted two essays, one for leaving the EU and one for remaining, intending to publish whichever would boost his political career. Where is trust to be found in such a man’s promises? Some defend this as “just playing the game.” But when the lives of millions are at stake, politics cannot be treated as a game.
Promises, omissions, manipulations — all of these are strategies to exploit others. They are not truth. They are not authentic. They reveal a person’s character. That is why it is so important to keep your promises: to build trust, to live in reality, rather than construct a false reality for others.
Promises are not vital to bare human survival, but keeping promises is vital to how we live as a society. Without trust, without accountability, life becomes desolate of community. Humans are greedy creatures, often seeking to exploit one another. Promises can become Trojan horses: false commitments that breed fake trust. A lack of accountability leads to mistrust, which then spreads outward to every future interaction.
This cannot be fully prevented. For as long as there is opportunity to exploit another, someone will take it. We cannot stop the existence of manipulation — but we can choose how we make promises, and how we respond to those that sound too good to be true. We can learn to treat promises with caution, to examine their realism, to challenge their premises. Place trust where it is deserved; withdraw it from those who seek only to manipulate.
Humans are naturally trust-seeking. We long for stability, and promises appear to offer it. We prefer to accept promises at face value rather than live in suspicion. This makes us vulnerable.
Confirmation bias plays its role. We interpret promises in ways that confirm our pre-existing hopes. When a politician we like makes a promise, we are eager to believe them. Likewise, the valence effect — the tendency to overestimate the likelihood of positive outcomes and underestimate negative ones — means that when someone promises us what we want, we overrate its probability. When they promise us what we fear, we underrate it.
For Kant, promises are a categorical duty. To break a promise is to undermine the very possibility of promising. But this is too rigid. Life changes. If the circumstances that formed the basis of a promise are overturned, it cannot be right to demand its fulfilment. Authenticism grounds promises in reality: accountability requires honesty when a promise must be broken, but not blind obedience to outdated commitments.
Utilitarianism stands at the opposite pole. Promises are secondary to outcomes; if breaking a promise creates more happiness, it is justified. But this undermines trust completely. If everyone believed promises could be abandoned whenever a “greater good” was claimed, promises would lose all meaning. Worse, utilitarian reasoning provides a convenient shield for manipulation: politicians can always claim that breaking their word was in the public interest.
Authenticism differs from both. A promise is moral only if its intention was authentic at the moment it was made, and only if the promiser remains accountable when circumstances change. We cannot please everyone, but we can remain true to our intentions and honest when reality shifts.
At a societal level, a promise can resemble a social contract. Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau all described society itself as a kind of promise: we give up some freedoms to live together in peace. But this is different from the interpersonal promises Authenticism is concerned with. The social contract is macro — collective agreement, fragile if broken. Authenticism is micro — the moral texture of everyday promises, grounded not in collective consent but in individual authenticity.
Unlike the rigidity of Hobbes’ contract (break it and society collapses), Authenticism accepts that circumstances shift and promises must shift with them. What matters is transparency and accountability. The heart of a promise is not the “general will,” but the authentic intention of the one who makes it.
Children’s promises illustrate an exception. Children lack a full grasp of infinity or possibility. Their promises still state intention, but cannot carry the same weight. However, promises made to children matter deeply. Breaking them risks damaging trust during formative years. Authenticism holds that showing truth in both word and action is essential in raising accountable human beings. The same goes for people who are not within rational mind, those suffering psychosis or dementia etc, they must be fully based within reality.
So what, then, makes a true promise?
Conditions for a True Promise
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Reality: It must be grounded in the possible (not “forever” or “always”).
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Intention: It must be made with genuine intent, not for manipulation.
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Accountability: If circumstances change, the promise must be addressed — never concealed.
An example: Instead of “I promise to love you forever,” the authentic promise would be: “I love you, and I promise to be faithful today, tomorrow, and as long as I will it.” Less romantic, perhaps, but far truer. It creates real trust, built on reality rather than illusion.