Signs of Lies

This is the 3rd in a series about how I got scammed.  See the Table of Contents for links to all the posts.

I’d like to think most people are honest, though according to psychologists, everyone becomes Pinocchio at least once a day.  I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt and believe what I’m told.  Most lies are harmless, white lies uttered with good intentions meant to avoid hurting someone’s feelings or delivering a social nicety, for example, praising a child’s sloppy scratches as a work of art, or excusing oneself from an invitation due to other (actually non-existent) plans.  Other lies may be morally justified if offered to protect others from malicious threats by an unjust power, for example, by the brave souls who helped hide and smuggle slaves from the South to freedom in the North during the U.S. Civil War, or more recently, Jews in German controlled European territories during Hitler’s reign.

But many lies have selfish intent, spoken to purposely deceive and hide a wrongful deed.  But how do you know when someone tells you such a lie?  If only it were as easy as spotting Pinocchio’s nose.  Short of subjecting the suspect to a lie detector test, which of course, is usually impractical, you basically have to spot the equivalence of cookie crumbs on a child’s otherwise innocent-looking face.

If someone I trust, or at least want to trust, such as a business partner, tells me something, I will believe him at first if I have no reason to doubt him.  My trust in him tends to blind me from the possibility he might be lying.  Yes, intellectually, I know he might be lying, but since I can’t prove otherwise, and since my success requires I believe him, I willingly choose to believe him, even if blindly.

After awhile, a suspicion arises that something may not be entirely right.  He states things which are discovered to be inaccurate or simply untrue.  He promises things which never materialize.  He resists and gives excuses when confronted about rightful concerns.  He even becomes defensive and hostile at the hint of any wrongdoing.  This happens so often that a pattern emerges.

The little voice inside my head says, yes, I think he’s lying to me.  I have no evidence of it, primarily because he holds the evidence, and he will guard it with his life.  But at a certain point, the lack of evidence itself becomes perceived as evidence against him.

Still there is doubt.  And the tendency is to give him the benefit of the doubt.  Why?  Because that’s the path of least resistance.  And because no one want to realize he’s been fooled.  Easier to protect one’s ego and keep believing, trusting, hoping, and praying that everything will turn out alright.

The difficulty of crossing the bridge of suspicion from trust to distrust increases proportionally with how much you’ve invested in the suspected liar, naturally because the more at stake, the more will be lost when the truth comes crashing down.

What if I’m wrong about my suspicions?  What if, against all reasonableness, every excuse he’s given was in fact true?  Never mind that every friend, relative, colleague, accountant, and lawyer I’ve consulted smelled fraud a mile away.  I want to believe him.  I don’t want to be made out to be a fool.

Even when evidence begins to emerge, a liar will double down like a cornered animal and assert like never before obvious lies.  The ferocity of their commitment to deceive to the bitter end is truly astonishing.  The evidence clearly contradicts his claims, yet he still insists upon his innocence.  Does he think I am really that stupid?  Yes, to both:  1) he believes I am really that stupid, and 2) I really am that stupid to have believed him.

This drama between the deceiver and the deceived, whether in business, romance, politics, or religion is ages old and fills volumes written in ink, money, and blood.  But perhaps the greatest deception which has hoodwinked us all is committed by reality itself.  What we perceive to make up our reality, such as time, matter, energy, and all the other familiar things in which we take comfort and identify as “real” are illusory, mental models which our neurons construct.  If everything we think is real is not really, what does that say about our higher aspirations for all things “good,” such as nobility, beauty, purpose, meaning, and, yes, truth?

Our lives are but small lies wrapped inside a big Lie.