Salut! Another week gone and another one still to come. It’s back to all systems go in the Land of Uni next week, but right now it’s really quiet, with everyone still waiting for term to restart. And in the gap, I find myself, in the manner of all great TV shows, with a filler episode.
One of the things I’ve always been very bad at is lying. Not because I’m a bad actress, but because lying to me feels nasty and unnecessary. And for want of other things to talk about, there was an article that cropped up on the BPS research digest this week which was interesting – how misleading someone with the truth can do you more harm than good.
I’ll be honest (ha!), at first I looked at it and went, ‘Is that even a thing?’ But no, apparently it is a thing – paltering, which is telling a truth to mislead someone. The example given from the original study was attempting to sell a car that occasionally wouldn’t start to someone, without telling them that it occasionally wouldn’t start; “The car mostly runs very smoothly.” According to the researchers, misleading someone in this way – telling a truth but lying overall – may feel better in the short term, but costs more in terms in trust and in future associations in the long term as it’s viewed as unethical.
From my own personal standpoint, that makes perfect sense. I’m quite an honest person, occasionally to the point of painful bluntness. This has cost me some friendship points in the past. Yes, it’s an autism thing, we’re really bad liars as standard, but I was also raised that way. I still got in trouble for breaking stuff but if I was honest about it, all I got was a ticking off rather than a lamping. But in return, I’d far rather the other person was completely honest with me. The truth can hurt, but it’s far easier to deal with than suddenly changing your whole viewpoint of a person or situation after finding out they’ve outright lied to you to spare your feelings. That hurts more than pure honesty.
I guess because I could never quite conceive of someone lying to me, I can never tell if they are, even to this day. And yeah, I’d lie to my parents to get myself out of trouble (not that it ever worked), but apart from that I was always on the side of truth. And they were always fairly truthful with me, like when our cat got cancer or ‘they’re not monkeys, they’re Orang-utans.’ So the concept of using the truth to mislead at first was a total mystery to me – but think of any ad campaign you’ve ever seen. I always find myself wondering, ‘Well, what’s the catch?’ which, I suppose, is the one question they don’t want you to ask. There’s always a catch, that they gloss over with something like paltering. When I realised people did things like that was the point I started to become jaded. Fortunately I’m not so jaded that I can’t see the good in humanity any more – but nevertheless, consciously comprehending a concept that comes more naturally to neurotypical kids I think had more of an impact on me.
In any case; lying costs – financially, emotionally, and if you don’t tell your mum, sometimes physically as well. Lesson over.
I’ll try and think of something a bit more fleshed out next week. Dissertation proposal coming up, as well as a few more assignments, so everything’s gearing up to go ape again. Though not orang-utan. I think they’re quite happy where they are.