I'd rather trust nine people and have the 10th one stab me in

“I’d rather trust nine people and have the 10th one stab me in the back. I’d take that fall in order to have those nine friendships or working relationships instead of having none. That’s not living.” So spoke Margot Robbie, and though her words are born of modern lips, their truth is eternal. For what is life without trust? What is existence if the heart builds only walls, fearing betrayal, and never dares to open its gates to love, friendship, and fellowship? To shield oneself from hurt is to shield oneself from joy. To avoid the wound of treachery is also to deny the balm of companionship.

The ancients knew this paradox well. They taught that man is not a creature meant for solitude, but for relationship. Aristotle himself declared: “He who lives without society is either a beast or a god.” For only in the company of others do we discover courage, loyalty, and the strength of shared purpose. Yes, betrayal is a shadow that walks beside trust, yet the risk is worth the radiance. Without the nine faithful companions, the wound of the one traitor would never matter, for life itself would be barren of warmth.

History offers a mighty witness in the tale of Julius Caesar. Surrounded by allies, he strode through the height of power, and though one among them—Brutus—turned traitor, the world remembers not only the betrayal, but also the bonds Caesar forged that gave him his strength. Without trust, he could never have risen; without his alliances, Rome itself would not have been reshaped. Though his end was bitter, his life blazed brightly, proving Robbie’s truth: it is better to trust and risk betrayal than to live in isolation, paralyzed by suspicion.

Think also of the explorers who braved unknown seas. Shackleton, Columbus, Magellan—all placed their fate in the hands of crews, not knowing who would prove faithful or who might falter. Some indeed betrayed, but most stood loyal, and without that circle of trust, their voyages would have failed before they began. So too in our daily journeys, whether of work or of friendship: without risking trust, no endeavor can take flight, and no dream can be achieved.

Yet let us not misunderstand: Robbie’s words do not glorify betrayal. They remind us that betrayal is the price one might pay, not the goal one seeks. The betrayer will always be condemned by history and memory, while the one who trusted will be remembered as human, courageous, and alive. For to trust is to live openly, to embrace life with all its hazards. To never trust is to live half-dead, imprisoned in fear.

The lesson, then, is this: open your heart, though you may be wounded. Do not let the pain of one broken bond rob you of the blessing of nine loyal ones. Build relationships with sincerity, risk vulnerability, and welcome the fellowship of others. When betrayal comes—as it sometimes will—accept it as the thorn upon the rose, the shadow that proves the presence of light.

Practical wisdom flows: seek companions, not by measuring their worth with suspicion, but by offering your trust and letting time reveal their nature. If nine remain faithful and one betrays, rejoice in the nine and grieve not overmuch for the one. For as Robbie declares, to have none is not living. Life’s richest treasures are found in bonds of trust, and they are worth every wound endured to gain them.

So remember this truth, O children of the future: to live is to trust, to risk, to open oneself to love and friendship. Choose always the path of courage over the prison of fear. For even if one hand strikes you in betrayal, nine hands will hold you fast in loyalty—and that, indeed, is living.