Natural-born liars
Let’s be honest: you are a naturalborn liar. So am I. Whether we tell little white lies, designed to spare another’s feelings, or whopping great pathological fibs, none of us can escape the inherent human tendency for untruths.
The only question is: what kind of liar are you?
Very few people actually enjoy lying. Indeed, “liar” is one of the most damaging insults you can hurl at another person. None of us wants to live or work with liars: they sow mistrust and shatter relationships.
But that doesn’t mean we don’t tell lies — and often.
Psychologist Bella de Paulo found that, on average, people tell 1.5 untruths a day. And according to a 2002 study by the University of Massachusetts, 60 per cent of adults can’t have a 10-minute conversation without telling at least one lie. The researchers also found that two people will tell three lies within 10 minutes of meeting each other.
As the author of a book on how and why we lie, these numbers seem, to me, like a conservative estimate.
Both studies were carried out before the advent of social media. Facebook and Twitter have multiplied our opportunities to tell lies, and made it much easier for them to spread; these days, a lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has even woken up. It is no coincidence that Donald Trump is both a compulsive Twitter user and is accused of being a compulsive liar. Yet, we cannot blame social media; it merely amplifies our human predisposition to stray from the truth.
As Paul Ekman, a psychologist who has studied the facial expressions of liars, says: “Lying is a central characteristic of life.” It is the degree to which we tell lies that separates us.
Most of us lie by saying “I’m fine” to our colleagues, when we actually feel miserable. We lie when we coo, “what a beautiful baby!” while inwardly marvelling at its resemblance to an alien life form.
Sound familiar? The uncomfortable truth is that humans lie almost from the moment they are born.
Dr. Vasudevi Reddy, of the University of Portsmouth’s psychology department, found examples of deceptive behaviour among children less than a year old.
Almost as soon as children learn to talk, they use words to deceive. They start telling the simplest of lies between the ages of two and three, before moving to more sophisticated untruths between three and four. This is not something to be worried about: developmental psychologists regard it as a sign of social intelligence.
For the most part, children and adults tell “little white lies” — fairly harmless everyday fibs designed to spare feelings. These are what keep the wheels of our society turning.
The paradox is that society would break down if we couldn’t rely on most people to tell the truth, most of the time — yet it would also break down if we only ever told the truth.
There would be fights on street corners. Families would be torn apart. There is good reason to give these little white liars a free pass.
There are other types of liar, however, who we don’t forgive so easily. We give a hard time to dissemblers; experts at twisting words, judiciously omitting information, creating ambiguity and crafting deniability.
Ironically, the politicians who tell us, truthfully, that we need to make hard choices tend not to be the ones who become popular, whereas the ones who tell us we can have our cake and eat it fare far better with voters.
Even less defensible are compulsive liars, who cannot help but tell fantastical whoppers. Compulsive liars have become addicted to selfglorifying fibs because they are deeply insecure. They get a kick purely out of telling a lie. They usually hurt nobody but themselves — unless by happenstance they end up in positions of real power.
Pathological liars (sometimes called psychopathic liars) are a different breed again; colder and more calculating. They lie with specific, self-serving goals, and are regarded by those unfortunate enough to cross their paths as manipulative, cunning and egotistical — usually after they’ve got what they wanted.
It is these sorts of liars who regularly grab the headlines; think financial fraudster Bernie Madoff or American con man Frank Abagnale — immortalized by Leonardo DiCaprio in the 2002 film Catch Me If You Can — who posed as a doctor, airline pilot, teacher and lawyer. Theirs are entire lives built on lies, and whose deceptions negatively impact others, too.
We might all lie, but at least the majority of us have the grace to feel a little bit bad about it, even when it comes from a good place. So next time you catch yourself telling a tall story or throwaway fib, ask yourself what sort of liar you are. Honestly? The answer might surprise you.