The modern but mostly unacceptable epidemic of lying

Photo: Getty Images
Photo: Getty Images
Why is lying tolerated? Duncan Connors asks.

I am trying to understand why lying has become socially acceptable.

Not the casual acceptance of the white lie or tall tales in the pub. I want to understand why Donald Trump, or Boris Johnson or Nigel Farage or Pauline Hansen, have succeeded in firing off an endless stream of proven porky pies.

Ponder this question: why is habitual lying now acceptable?

We used to laugh. In the sitcom Keeping up Appearances, Hyacinth Bucket would enter the gates of a mansion only to climb out the back to visit her state-house-dwelling sister. People drive themselves to bankruptcy buying a house or a BMW to impress "friends".

We are habitually sceptical of politicians. Richard Nixon, Bill Clinton, Bob Hawke were all famed for their difficult, at times endearing, relationship with truth. However, in the case of Nixon, when caught, he did the decent thing.

At school, I would naturally omit the truth or make up something credible to save my hide. Yet, upon being very naughty, aged 16 and just out of lies, I fessed up and was told never to return.

I lied to my mum afterwards but failed miserably.

The issue of lying is now complicated. Donald Trump has done multiple morally dubious acts. Has he fallen on his sword? No. Just more lies and denials. Many believe him and we suffer the consequences.

Boris Johnson lied about NHS funding to gain votes — leaving the EU will save the NHS £350 million a week. This was untrue. The repercussions? More lies and an election victory.

During Covid, Downing St was the centre of alcohol-fuelled parties. Johnson flouted the laws he created. He became the first prime minister to be convicted of a crime when in office.

Did he resign? No, he was pushed. Today, Johnson and Trump hang out, reinforcing one another.

A confession: I once knew Boris Johnson. That is my own exaggeration. I was once the deputy chairman of the Islington Conservatives when he was the president (I joined the SNP after developing a conscience).

Our paths rarely crossed. He was peripheral. I doubt he knew my name. He was guarded. Closed. Taciturn. The opposite of the effervescent public image.

On a professional level, that interests me. Many habitual liars are the opposite. There is a psychology of the liar and a psychology of the lie.

Liars share two interdependent traits in common: they lack empathy and are highly gullible. They tend to be easy to trick yet are convinced of their own lies and that others believe them, too.

We once called them out. That is no longer the case.

In the daily environment of the workplace, the school yard or college or the social club, we no longer have the will to confront the liar. We are ground down.

For Trump or Johnson, the tradition of falling on one’s sword and fessing up so we can move on is gone. We just have "process"; endless inquisition and counter accusation where we know the truth but are forced to play along.

The liars remain within our midst, untested, ready to do their worst because should we call them out, we’re the bad guys. Multiple studies have shown that society remains powerless in a toxic post-truth age far removed from reality.

The result? The Nixons and others thrive in the age of the accepted lie. The Pax Mendacious.

Underperform at work? Lie and accuse others.

Underperform at university? Lie and accuse others.

Caught out at school? Lie and accuse others.

Then fight, fight, fight against the truth. Say it is just conflicting points of view.

Appreciating multiple perspectives is one thing, but our collective post-truth age of alternative facts is unhealthy and habitual lying cannot continue.

There is good news. Many countries now have proposals to make politicians’ lying a criminal offence. Legislation will be put forward in Wales. This is a sound idea. Lying by those in power can have wide-ranging consequences for society.

This should be extended to civil servants and all public roles, academics, teachers, doctors, nurses, the police and others, to build a healthy respect for the evidenced truth.

I am not naive. We will always lie. Sometimes lying can be useful, even crucial. We all accept that.

What I am suggesting is that our political, economic and social life that has become so fraught with untruths and dishonesty, we need to set a bar to aspire to.

We’ll still lie, but within limits and in a healthy way.

• Duncan Connors is a senior lecturer, DBA programme, at the University of Otago business school.