I Have No Moral Objection To Lying
I no longer see lying as ‘Wrong’, only as something that feels ‘wrong’ — or unpleasant — in my body.
Like a lot of people (in fact I’d suggest the vast majority) I was raised to think that telling lies was Wrong with a capital W. I imagine that this judgment, like so many, has its roots in Judeo-Christian religion, specifically in the biblical principles known as The Ten Commandments. “Bearing false witness against your neighbour” is normally listed as the ninth commandment — just under ‘stealing’ and just above ‘coveting’ — and is actually pretty vague as far as instructions for life go. Luckily Proverbs 6:16 is a wee bit more expansive:
“There are six things that the LORD strongly dislikes, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers.”
I must admit to laughing a little when I read that. I imagine it being said in a loud self-righteous voice, or shouted from the bowels of a pulpit to a crowd of quaking parishioners below. I don’t really like or subscribe to the idea of a creator who is so damned cold and judgmental that he declares someone who simply tells lies ‘an abomination’. To my mind, that sounds far more like the kind of judgment a self-righteous human being would make.
I stopped telling lies because I had an idea that I was presenting a false image of who I was to the world. I had a story that I was hiding all my anger and petty judgements and jealousy, and that if I revealed what I really thought and felt that the people I loved and relied on for support would reject me. What I discovered was that the opposite is true. The more I revealed of the secret workings of my mind, the more I externalised all those confused imaginings and mean little thoughts and the stories I had around them, the more I felt connected to the people I was talking to. The more I heard “oh god yes, me too!!” and “wow, I thought I was the only one who thought that!” and “I’m so glad you told me that”.
As time has gone on though, and I’ve settled into reporting my truth — or my ‘noticings’ — as a part of my natural communication with others, I find myself less and less attached to the idea that lying is ‘Wrong’.
I have a client — Jamie — who I first started seeing about three or four months ago. Jamie’s family have been concerned about her behaviour for a long time, initially describing her as ‘a lifelong habitual liar’ and even going as far as to suggest to me that she might have psychopathic tendencies. Having received several long emails about her ‘complete lack of empathy’ from her father before our first meeting, I was therefore surprised to find a sensitive, extremely anxious young woman, who it was clear had strong story that she was a disappointment to her family, was lonely, depressed and completely convinced that if she told the truth about who she really was no-one could ever love her.
As Jamie told me the story of her life, her place as she saw it within in her family, and recounted all the many times she had told lies and manipulated others, I made myself feel sad and heavy. In demonstrating how she had manipulated others — using her understanding of ‘what would work on them’ — she showed very clearly that she was an intelligent, emotionally aware person who had the ability to recognise emotions and use them to her advantage. And her motivation in doing this? To get what she needed to feel secure, to ensure the other person believed she was someone worthy of their trust, and to get them to listen to her.
Lying for Jamie was self-protective, a survival skill she’d taught herself to avoid painful rejection, to meet her own needs and to ensure she was taken care of. The fact that she was judged as ‘amoral’ rather than resourceful by others meant that her deeply held belief that she was an unworthy, disgusting human, incapable of being seen and loved was only compounded in every encounter. Because of this, the first part of my work with her was spent convincing her that I had respect and admiration for her ability to survive, and that she was safe to share with me all the ways she deceived people, knowing that I had no judgement about her lying being anything but bad for her own happiness.
When I told Jamie that I had no moral objection to lying, I meant it. I no longer see lying as ‘Wrong’, only as something that feels ‘wrong’ in my body. I don’t like how lying to someone or withholding something from them feels. I get tension in my chest and shoulders, I feel nauseous and sometimes even dizzy, I have a thought that goes something like “she’ll/he’ll hate me if I say what I really think” or “I can’t admit that, that will give them power over me”. But most importantly of all for me, I feel disconnected from that person. I tell myself I’m protecting the relationship by withholding, but in reality I’m maintaining a status quo that feels — in my body at least! — far less satisfying than a connection where we are both fully seen and heard.
Jamie is still struggling with telling the truth to her family and friends, and every week she tells me another story about how she has lied and manipulated to get what she wants or to avoid conflict. Together we talk about how that feels in her body, and notice the thoughts that come afterwards about how she is not loved or accepted. I have a story that she is getting better at noticing these things — especially in the moment — and that these ‘noticings’ are helping her to figure out that lying no longer serves her, protects her or keeps her safe.
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*All client details have been changed to avoid identification.
Law Turley is a BACP Registered Integrative Therapist and Certified Radical Honesty Trainer living and working in the south west of the UK.
