As I mentioned in my essay yesterday, I had a big problem with telling the truth when I was younger. While I am probably a little more skilled than most in telling when another person is lying, I’m also less judgmental towards people who have this problem, because I understand the cost of it all.
Lying keeps people at a distance. It creates a false image of the liar that is impossible over time to maintain. This can lead to one lie stacked after another. The liar inevitably ends up saying the least possible in these circumstances to avoid the risk of exposure.
Montaigne’s view of lying is extremely judgmental. I can appreciate the position he stakes out:
I have often reflected on what could have given birth to our scrupulously observed custom of taking bitter offence when we are accused of that vice which is more commonplace among us than any of the others, and why for us it should be the ultimate verbal insult to accuse us of lying. Whereupon I find it natural for us to protect ourselves from those failings with which we are most sullied. It seems that by resenting the accusation and growing angry about it we unload some of the guilt; we are guilty, in fact, but at least we condemn it for show.
Like I said, I appreciate what Montaigne is saying, but I also disagree with it completely. I try not to call people on their lies and, if possible, give them space to stop lying by not pushing the matter too forcefully. I mostly feel hurt when someone close lies to me. It feels in a way like my failing, like I haven’t presented myself as someone capable of hearing and understanding the messy truth.
But if I like someone, I’m likely to let slide any truthful admission. The good feeling that comes from being on the right side of truth would outweigh for me any reputational hit.
Montaigne, however, is not giving an inch and also points out the public damage of lying:
Our understanding is conducted solely by means of the word: anyone who falsifies it betrays public society. It is the only tool by which we communicate our wishes and our thoughts; it is our soul’s interpreter: if we lack that, we can no longer hold together; we can no longer know each other. When words deceive us, it breaks all intercourse and loosens the bonds of our polity.
He’s obviously right — lying destroys public trust and takes the whole “other minds” problem in philosophy to a new level of difficulty. But I can empathize with the liar if it’s a situation where a small matter got out of hand and it became increasingly difficult to correct. Some people lie as shorthand—connecting truths with lies to keep the story short and clean. I don’t enjoy being the recipient of these tidy tales, but as a writer, I have to admit that being concise is a virtue for me.
Having lived through the Trump era (I’m still assuming it’s over, but I guess we cannot be sure), I don’t like public officials who lie and I’m hoping George Santos ends up in jail for his fictional career. But most people lie at a less pathological, harmful level than these psychopaths. They lie to self protect and end up hiding their true faces away. They deserve our care and concern—and help in a path back to reality.
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