The Worst Kind of Lie

Some wag, stapling together pieces of two Bible verses, has said, “A lie is an abomination unto the Lord, but a very present help in time of trouble.”

As a race, we all lie, all the time, mostly of the “little white” variety, and often for innocent reasons. After all, are you going to be honest when a new mother asks your opinion about a truly ugly baby?

To be sure, one of the surest signs you shouldn’t believe anything a person says is when they perpetually say “to be honest”, “to tell you the truth”, “I’m not gonna lie to you”, or the like. Looking at you, Donald.

But of all the lies to which we fall victim, the most nefarious are those we tell ourselves. Self lies are essentially wishful thinking expressed in words. They are dastardly because we tell ourselves things we want to believe – more accurately, that we need to believe.

We usually lie to ourselves to turn a “want” into a “need”. A perfectly serviceable vehicle can quickly become an embarrassing clunker, a mechanical albatross around our necks, while our friend’s shiny new Tesla, all leathery and shiny and marvelous, becomes an object of worship. “I can afford that, think of all the fuel I won’t have to buy, I get preferred parking and driving lanes and I’m helping save the planet. What’s not to love?” And before you know it, you’re into seven years of car payments, wondering why your budget seems tighter than it used to be.

From time to time I’m asked to weigh in on professional firm mergers or reorganizations. Most of the time I’m wasting my breath, because the professionals have already smoked the opium and built their castles in the sky. All will be peace, joy, and prosperity. What could possibly go wrong with new partners, new digs, a new name and new branding? The toughest part of consulting is resisting the urge, a year later, of saying, “I told you so.”

I won’t get into the outrageous self-lies that go on when there’s too much testosterone in the bloodstream, or a girl thinks she’s going to tame that wild cowboy and make a faithful husband and doting father out of him. Good luck with that.

The converse is also true, no word of a lie. We are quick to convince ourselves that our current situation is intolerable, that no reasonable person would put up with a kitchen that’s ten years old and embarrassing. “I’m ashamed to have guests over, they must laugh behind my back when they see the hovel I live in.” Our self-lies turn “wants” into “needs”.

Having already made the decision to buy a new hot tub or get into a relationship with your ride-sharing partner, you start to line up all the “reasons” that life is currently intolerable and will be entirely better once you get what you want. And nobody is going to talk you out of it.

The antidote to self-lying? An honest friend who will listen to you, ask a few questions, call BS, and hold your feet to the fire. You might not thank them right away, but next year looking back, you will.

Would I lie to you?