What is a lie? Is not telling the whole truth a lie? And if we express gratitude for an evening that was frankly boring, or say “thank you, everything is fine” when it’s not, are we lying? Or are we simply observing the rules of decency?
If we view all of this as a lie, it turns out that we lie constantly. To avoid getting too philosophical, in this post, we’ll examine lying from only one perspective—as a deliberate concealment of the truth to protect oneself or others from reality. It’s important to remember, however, that lying isn’t a psychological defense mechanism. So, why do we lie?
Everyone who lies has their own reasons. But most often, people lie to:
— to protect someone they love. For example, a terminally ill wife hides the truth about her health from her elderly husband, wanting to spare him from worry. — to protect themselves and their interests. For example, an unfaithful husband tells his wife until the very end that she is the one and only, when he wants to save the relationship. — to avoid punishment. A subordinate tells his boss that he completed a task well and on time, even though it was a failure.
— to seem better. A guy tells a girl on his first date about his athletic achievements, which he never achieved.
— to seem better. A guy tells a girl on his first date about his athletic achievements, which he never achieved.
People lie because sometimes the truth is too dangerous, too hurtful, too unpleasant. It can be dangerous objectively, for example, by threatening to get fired. Or it can be dangerous at the level of fantasy. For example, the young man in our example is sure he won’t attract a girl if he tells only the truth. All these examples are trivial. But there’s another—non-trivial—aspect to lying.
When a lie protects against the truth, in a sense, it itself becomes the truth. This idea sounds rather contradictory. But if you think about it, it’s simple: if a lie is an expression of the liar’s reality, then how is it different from the truth?
How are pathological liars structured?
When a person lies and is believed, they feel they can do whatever they want with reality. And reality itself can be anything. This experience is accompanied by a sense of triumph and self-confidence, and also provides a feeling of security and stability. If such a person’s ability to lie is taken away, their condition can significantly worsen. Lying is like a second skin for them, seemingly holding their entire image, their entire personality, together. They will never be able to explain why they lied. They lie for the same reason they breathe—to live. Only lying can give them a sense of personal reality.
Why do we lie to ourselves?
When someone claims they never get angry without reason or always tell the truth, they’re lying. People don’t even realize how often they lie to themselves. This happens because self-deception is pushed out of consciousness faster than it becomes accessible. After all, confronting the truth about oneself, one’s values, and ideals can be painful and scary. We all have “shadow sides”—things we want to hide not only from others but also from ourselves. People also lie to themselves to cope with difficult feelings or emotional pain . For example, a wife might convince herself that her husband is busy with an endless project instead of spending time with another woman. Here, the lie lies at the heart of a defense mechanism called denial. Or a man who wasn’t hired for a job will convince himself that the position wasn’t good enough anyway. This is a case of rationalization.
In essence, self-deception underlies most of our psyche’s defense mechanisms. Its primary function is to protect a person from confronting reality. The more conflicts a person experiences, the more often they are forced to resort to self-deception. Nietzsche confirmed this idea with the words: “The most common form of lying is lying to oneself.” Escaping conflict through self-deception is more cost-effective than resolving it—facing pain, disappointment, and shame. Recall how Pushkin’s lyrical hero, in his “Confession,” asks his beloved to pretend: “Ah, it’s not difficult to deceive me!… I’m happy to deceive myself!” This phenomenon is still at work today: one can deceive those who themselves “would like” to be deceived.
Another function of self-deception is escapism. Endless travel, workaholism, grueling workouts in the gym—all of these can be a way to hide from oneself, one’s thoughts, feelings, and desires. External busyness allows one to mask internal conflicts or, even worse, to fill the ringing emptiness within. Few people think of this as a lie, citing perfectly reasonable arguments: “Escape from myself to work? No, I just got promoted.” This self-deception allows one to protect oneself from bitter and difficult feelings: loneliness, personal unfulfillment, vulnerability, shame, or anger.
Moreover, our False Self —an identity built on constructs that belong to others, not the individual—is precisely based on self-deception. These constructs could be the adults who raised them, society, popular culture, and so on. For example, a young man might pretend to relish the role of a successful lawyer, but in reality, he’s simply afraid to admit that he never wanted to be a lawyer and began practicing at his father’s behest. A woman, meanwhile, tells her friends about her fiancé’s endless advantages, trying to conceal her reluctance to marry him.
What is the danger of lying?
Lying is always accompanied by the fear of being exposed, of being found out. Often, lying goes hand in hand with anxiety and a feeling of insecurity. Of course, sometimes a person lies out of humanitarian motives and understands this. But deep down, they think: the bitter truth is always better than a sweet lie. Lying, especially if it is maintained for an extended period, fosters a sense of guilt. A person may not realize it, but guilt will influence their life, their choices, and their reactions. Lying prevents freedom in conversation or in expressing feelings. It demands that a person remain faithful to it and to everything previously said. It also fosters a sense of one’s own worthlessness, unworthiness, and unworthiness.
In a larger, existential sense, lying means dwelling in a world of illusions—about life, about others, about oneself. And ultimately, a person, consciously or deep down, still strives for the truth. Because only the truth, even the cruelest, can make a person truly free.
