Lieology

Mar 14

Life requires that we sometimes become experts in areas we would rather not. I could by now hold a degree in Lieology, the study of lying. Lies take many forms—chicanery, concealment, deception, equivocation, fabrication, misinformation, misleading, omission, prevarication, subterfuge—to name a few. Each word generally describes an act of changing the perceived shape of what is. Omit bits of it. Add blobs of falseness. Add blobs of irrelevant truth to obfuscate the original shape. Divert attention from it. Set it in motion so that the shape constantly changes. Prepare a veritable word salad, so large and intimidating, and full of big words, that despite the greatest appetite for understanding, it cannot be consumed, but only held in a sort of icky awe and confusion. To be on the receiving end of lies places you anywhere on the scale between mildly entertained and dead, so my made-up Master of Lieology degree could prove useful.

So let’s begin with Lesson 1 – History of Lying. And I don’t mean the lies down through history. I mean our personal histories. We try out the practice of lying as toddlers in an attempt to restore our little universes to that prior, glorious state when we were the centers of them. When we had needs and they were somehow instantly satisfied. We’re excited to discover that we are separate people from our mothers and that we have some independent control. That’s fun. But the transition from baby to toddler also includes another element that’s not fun at all—delayed gratification. You’ve probably heard of the Stanford marshmallow experiment in 1972, a study on delayed gratification in preschoolers, led by psychologist Walter Mischel. Toddlers were left alone in a room with a treat and promised a reward (in some cases, double the treat) for delaying eating the treat until the experimenter returned. Decades later, higher SAT scores, likeliness to finish college, and higher incomes were correlated with the kids who were able to delay gratification. Experiments are ongoing, while accounting for factors not considered in the original design. But you can see how learned behaviors like self-control and executive function in the brain can be lifetime advantages. It’s probably harder to learn this the older you get, but it’s not exactly easy for toddlers either. So maybe, if a toddler lies, he can get what he wants. It’s worth a try.

Here’s Lesson 2 – Lie Anatomy. A toddler experiments with lying to get what he wants. I witnessed such an experiment at a swimming pool last summer, when a five-year-old boy attempted to hold his sister’s head under water. Their young mother was watching.

Mom: Obi, you are not allowed to hold your sister’s head under the water.

Obi: That didn’t happen.

Mom: I’m right here. I saw you. You are not allowed to do that.

Obi: I didn’t do it.

Mom: I saw you. You did it.

Obi: It wasn’t under the water.

Mom: It was. And you are not allowed to hold your sister’s head under the water.

Obi: We were just playing around. She likes it!

Mom: No. She feels upset. It’s a mean thing to do and you are not allowed to do it.

Obi: She made me do it!

Mom: You did it. You are the one responsible. And it’s not allowed.

Obi: You always take her side!

Mom: This is about you. You are not allowed to do that. Do you understand?

Obi: I want her out of here! I want to go home! I hate the pool!

The little boy worked himself into a temper tantrum, but after several minutes of the mother’s calm consistency, he admitted the truth and grudgingly took responsibility for it. His experiment in lying was unsuccessful. Encounters like this may happen several times a day, and maybe for a few years, until the youngster gains some self-control.

The standard anatomy of a lie, so aptly demonstrated by the toddler at the pool, is as follows:

1. It didn’t happen.

2. OK, it may have happened, but I didn’t do it.

3. OK, I may have had something to do with it, but it didn’t happen the way you think (you are probably crazy).

4. OK, it may have happened sort of like that, but it’s not the big deal you’re making it (see? more of your craziness).

5. OK, so it’s a big deal, but it’s someone else’s fault.

6. You sure do have some issues I don’t like.

7. This is unfair and I am angry about it. I demand justice in the form of the world conforming to my wishes.

Adults who did not successfully transition from lie-experimenting toddlers to truthful children remain right here—right at this methodology—for lying. Maybe they were “successful” with their lie experiments as preschoolers. Maybe it got them something. Maybe their parents weren’t paying attention. Maybe lying shielded them from some trauma that they then buried, but kept up the habit of lying. The whys are for psychologists and counselors, so go there for more. Right now, though, you are in my Lieology class, so listen up.

If you listen dispassionately, you can hear an adult lie like a preschooler. It’s comical.

Step 1, Deny reality.

Obi takes the direct route with “That didn’t happen.” A cleverer adult might say, “What?” or “What are you talking about?” That says, “I am sitting here in reality and you have brought up something unrelated to it. What is this non-reality that you’re talking about that has nothing to do with me or reality?” It immediately puts you on the defensive, having to explain or define whatever you asked about, or observed, and it buys time for the liar to formulate the rest of the lie.

Step 2, Deny responsibility.

Confronted with a simple, direct question or observation, the adult liar will accede to a piece of it, but not all of it. Obi is caught by the fact that his mother saw him do it. No way to get out of that. So he allows that it occurred, but says, “I didn’t do it.” Obi experiments with finding a way out. An adult liar knows this isn’t a way out, but another move in a very old game. It delays, again, having to answer the question. It demonstrates “logic” and “empathy” that your challenge is being considered, though logic and empathy are two things adult liars seem to have misplaced, along with their memory. It also reinforces the blameshifting to you that began in Step 1. First you made up what happened, and now you are showing signs of impairment.

Step 3, Deny perception.

This is a continuation of the trajectories already set. Obi is caught again. His mother not only witnessed the wrongful act, but witnessed him commit it. The next hole to squeeze out of is that she must have seen it wrong! With the adult liar, you will be treated to more “logic.” If (a) he/she is not wrong, and (b) you perceive him/her as wrong, then it follows that (c) you must be wrong. Adult liars hold faulty premises, to which they cling with their lives. So the liar was perhaps in the vicinity of this so-called transgression. You must be having some vision problems or suffer from faulty logic. The adult liar will, at all costs, deny what you saw and what you think about it.

Step 4, Minimize.

Obi has not been able to squeeze out of any of the holes he finds. He is left with acknowledging that the wrongful act happened, he was involved, and it was witnessed by someone who will not deny reality. Way to go, Mom. Well, then Mom’s conclusion must be wrong! Obi tries again, with reframing the incident. “We were just playing around. She likes it!” Obi knows that Mom doesn’t read his mind. It’s part of his newfound independence. Maybe Mom can be tricked. The adult liar doesn’t have to experiment with tricking people. His/her lifelong practice has shown that people can indeed be tricked. The more skilled liars can make a living at it. The adult liar will minimize what society considers some pretty maximum transgressions. I don’t need to list them. You watch TV. You’ve seen Dateline and Law and Order. The adult liar can check four boxes against you now.

-You make things up

-Your perception is impaired

-Your logic is faulty

-Your conclusion is exaggerated

Believe it or not, this makes perfect sense to the adult liar.

Step 5, Shift blame. If Obi could observe himself, he would be amazed at his ability to keep coming up with an out. Of course! It’s all his sister’s fault! The adult liar never runs out of other people upon whom to cast blame. Naturally, you are to blame in the end. The argument for that has been building from the beginning of the exchange. But in the meantime, everyone from the liar’s victims to innocent bystanders to the dog is fair game. Even inanimate objects are not off the hook. And would you just look at the time! We’re so far into the lie that the lesser invested challengers are ready to give up. But we’ve got to see how this ends . . .

Step 6, Deflect. Obi’s mother calmly redirects to reality at every turn. Damn, she’s good. And that’s bad. She is the last thing standing in the way between Obi and the story ending he wants. You know, the story that ends with Obi as the hero, allowed to gratify his every whim with no consequences. Obi likes that story. The adult liar not only likes that story, but is as addicted to it as any substance abuser. Indulge me for a moment, here. The mother in my example, the mother at the pool, the mother whom Obi now sees as the bad guy, is anything but. She is, in fact, his savior. Obi will grow up to become a well-adjusted adult who marks the clear difference between lies and reality. Against his better judgment, he may lie on occasion, but when he does, he will feel guilt and regret, as the well-adjusted do. He will make amends. And all of this purposeful living will result, in part, because his mother guided him through the transition from baby to child with a consistency she probably gave less thought to than I gave to this writing. Brava.

Step 6 moves the focus of the conversation away from the transgression entirely and aims it at the accuser or challenger. Obi says, “You always take her side!” Now he wants to talk about this new subject, Mom’s shortcomings. When you encounter an adult liar, be ready to hear a list of your own faults, real or imagined. Gosh, it’s irritating. If you are the kind of person who reacts to emotional button-pushing, the liar will succeed here, at this step. And by succeed, I mean the liar will get you to stop holding him/her accountable and start thinking about something else. A liar never really succeeds, in the end.

Step 7, Act Out. Ah, the toddler’s infamous weapon, the temper tantrum. It’s the only thing left for Obi to do—well, the only thing besides admit the truth and take responsibility for his actions. And this is the most remarkable thing of all. A toddler can, at this point, be guided round to the proper ending. It happens all over the world every day, between toddlers and their parents. In the adult liar, because change would come at such a high price, I don’t see the adult liar changing. That’s an awful lot of self-repeated hardwiring in the brain to overcome. But anything is possible. In the art of temper tantrums, adults far surpass anything a preschooler can think up. I direct you to those in law enforcement for examples. They arrest adult toddlers all the time. The temper tantrum accomplishes one thing—it makes everyone within earshot think of something other than the persistent, unrelenting reality that always and inevitably shows the liar to be what he/she truly is. A liar.

And finally, Lesson 3 — The Irony of the Liar. Turn your notebooks back to that list of arguments against you that the liar compiles in the midst of lying. Let’s take another look at it.

-You make things up

-Your perception is impaired

-Your logic is faulty

-Your conclusion is exaggerated

Write somewhere in the margin that this list, the twisted “defense” of the adult liar, is a list of his/her very qualities.

As the bell rings, I wish you a pleasant spring break! There is no assignment here, save that which you might give yourself. Choose your own grade for the course.

Lieology

Gifted

What is the most important thing in the world?