
The question, then, is not why we should trust less. It is why we ever assumed we could trust so much
Trust is not a default in the real world. It is something that is built, scoped, observed, and constantly re-evaluated. Yet in IT and OT security, we have spent decades designing systems that do the opposite.
In physical security, passing a perimeter does not end scrutiny. It changes it. A badge gets you through the door, not through the building. Once inside, visibility increases. Cameras follow movement. Access narrows. Behavior matters more than credentials. Suspicion is not a failure of trust, it is how trust is managed.
Digital security took a different path.
Since the early 1990s, we have treated network location as a proxy for intent. If you were “inside”, you were implicitly trusted. Firewalls drew a line between hostile outside networks and friendly internal ones, and once traffic crossed that line, the security conversation largely stopped. The model was efficient, simple, and easy to operate. It was also fundamentally unhuman.
No one in the physical world would hand a valuable object to a stranger simply because they live in the same city. No security guard would stop observing someone because they passed the first checkpoint. And no serious security operation would assume that proximity reduces risk. In fact, it usually increases it.
Yet this is exactly what traditional network security has done.
We encrypted the tunnel, secured the perimeter, and then removed the blindfold once the door closed. VPN established, trust granted. Correct subnet, trust granted. Firewall passed, trust granted. The closer an attacker got to the assets, the less scrutiny they encountered.
This was not a mistake born of ignorance. It was a product of constraints. Early networks were small, identities were static, systems were few, and attackers were external. The inside-outside distinction made sense long enough to become doctrine. Firewalls encoded it. Standards documented it. Diagrams reinforced it.
And then the world changed.
Users became mobile. Systems became distributed. Identities became portable. Access paths multiplied. Attackers stopped knocking and started logging in. But the trust model remained largely the same. We added more zones, more firewalls, more DMZs, and more layers – all in service of protecting an assumption that no longer held.
The irony is that physical security never made this mistake.
A security guard assumes credentials can be stolen. A camera operator assumes access can be abused. Trust is never binary, and it is never permanent. It is contextual, limited, and revocable. That reflex is not paranoia; it is professionalism.
In IT and OT, we turned that reflex off because it was inconvenient. Networks were easier to operate when trust was implicit and location-based. And for a long time, that tradeoff went unchallenged.
Only recently have we collectively started to acknowledge what should have been obvious all along: presence is not intent, location is not identity, and access is not a permanent state.
This is why Zero Trust resonates so strongly once you stop treating it as a product category. It is not a radical departure. It is a return to how security has always worked in the physical world. Continuous evaluation. Least privilege. Observation after entry. The ability to revoke without rebuilding the perimeter.
In OT environments, this matters even more. Legacy protocols, long-lived credentials, and systems that cannot be patched make implicit trust especially dangerous. Yet we see the same perimeter-first thinking re-emerging, justified by models and standards that lag behind operational reality.
The question, then, is not why we should trust less. It is why we ever assumed we could trust so much.
Security has never been about keeping everyone out. It has always been about letting the right actions happen, under the right conditions, for the right reasons, and for as long as those reasons remain valid.
Trust everyone?
That was never how security worked. We just pretended it did in IT, until the cost became impossible to ignore.