Lies

Today I am thinking about lies. And lying.

When I was growing up all those years ago, my parents taught me never to lie. There was only one exception: a white lie could be told if necessary to avoid hurting someone. And so I could tell grandpa that he looked good in his striped shirt and plaid pants. I could tell Aunt Lilly that she was as beautiful as ever and that she was not gaining weight.

On the surface, telling the truth would seem to be good advice. Unfortunately it only works if everybody is on board the same train. In any event, lying has become socially acceptable. We have come to expect it.

The American courtroom is practically a Petri dish for lies. In Courtroom 101, the plaintiff is claiming that he had the green light. But wait, the defendant insists that it was he who had the light Somebody is lying and the jury must choose. But lying under oath is perjury, a felony. So will the loser be prosecuted? No. Does anybody care? Not really.

I’ve watched the television drama House on a handful of occasions. The protagonist of the show is a doctor. His philosophy seems to be that everybody lies. He says this repeatedly. His world even seems to be built on this premise. And his world works. The sad truth is that just about everybody lies.

But when did all this lying start? I don’t know. Maybe Bill Clinton told the biggest, most high profile lie of modern times. One might even say that lying reached a new level of acceptability under President Bill. After all, how does one tell one’s children not to lie when the president is doing it? One could almost say that President Clinton’s lies about the Monica Lewinski affair marked the B.C. / A.D. moment on the world’s calendar of lying.

Of course none of the president’s lies hurt his popularity with the American people. Bill Clinton seemed to be a good president and a likeable guy. I’ll admit it; I liked him too. If anything, his popularity soared even after he was caught lying. The rationale seemed to be that if the president (or any other person) was caught in an illicit sexual affair, he couldn’t be expected to tell the truth about it. No, of course not. He would have to lie

And so let be borrow a bit from that fictional character, Gordon Gekko. Lying is good. Lies work. Even when one believes that the ax will fall, lying will at least buy one some time – an hour, a day, whatever. And more often than not, the ax doesn’t fall at all. A husband lies to his wife. What can she do about it? Not much. A wife lies to her husband. What can he do about it? Not much. And if we were to put all of our liars in jail, there would not be enough people left on the outside to work and feed all of the new prisoners.

In the end, telling the truth is like doing the speed limit. It’s the right thing to do, but you almost look foolish doing it.

Now please somebody: teach me how to lie.