Friday 20 May 2016

A Beautiful Fiction

We are all liars.  Some of us are pretty good at it, others are horrible.  Some lie more than others.  They usually get ahead in life because, we'd might as well face it, we live in a culture of lying.  I have probably been turned down for more than one job because during the interview I have refused to lie nor even massage the facts.  This does not make me a paradigm for honesty.  I do what I can to be as transparent as possible but even this could be a bit of a lie since I am caught in the same zeitgeist of lying as everyone else.  Perhaps I am a little more aware of it because ethically and as a Christian I really disapprove of lying.  Not that it always stops me.  And sometimes I have knowingly and willingly told a lie to protect myself or others from harm and I do not regret this.

I remember talking with a former colleague who was chosen instead of me for a position we were both interviewed for.  He eventually resigned.  One day we went for coffee together and he admitted to me that he was likely picked instead of me because he wasn't exactly honest during the interview.  I was.

I listened recently to a program on CBC Radio One's Ideas about lying.  It was suggested that really the best thing we could do for one another was to tell the brutal and unvarnished truth at all times.  No matter how many people get hurt.  This gave me pause and I thought for a while about the difference between telling lies and protecting someone from being devastated.  They also talked about the importance of the white lie as a social lubricant, that we always need to be a little less than honest with one another in order to get along and coexist.  This of course suggests the necessity of the beautiful fiction.  For example, at a dinner party the host asks you how you enjoyed the dinner.  If it was truly awful do you risk hurting feelings and perhaps ending a friendship by telling the truth or do you lie beautifully and just pray that they never serve you this vile garbage again?  Then there is the aspiring artist who asks you your opinion of their awful painting or the wannabe poet who expects you to swoon over their lame doggerel. 

I wonder if there are ways of getting through this without being brutal and without having to lie.  I personally don't think there is any harm in giving an honest answer, but it cannot be blunt or brutal.  For the awful food give an honest reply but avoid drama.  Simply ask if that was the way the food was meant to turn out and express as tactfully as possible that you didn't care for it, but reassure the host how much you enjoyed everyone and the conversation and ask them to please feel free to serve the same dinner again if they wish and let them decide what to do about it.  You are the guest and unless you are a vegetarian being served steak you eat what is put in front of you.  Tell the host how sorry you are that the food wasn't up to your expectation, reassure them of your undying friendship and next time invite them out for dinner.  They will have to get over their hurt feelings and if there is any depth to the friendship you will both treat each other with exemplary kindness and move on.

As far as evaluating amateurish art or creative writing look for something to appreciate knowing that every creative act has its redeeming feature.  And encourage them to keep trying.  Creative work is so personal and subjective that it is not worth jeopardizing a friendship by saying cruel things and perhaps even where the food is concerned we might consider that the onus could be on us to expand and broaden our tastes a little.

Where I get particularly stumped about our culture of lying is in the way our daily lives and interactions are completely loaded with this variety of horse manure, of how inevitable it is and that it is nearly impossible to get away from it.  I like to think of it as wishful thinking spoken aloud.  We want to persuade ourselves as well as others that we are really good, kind and enlightened people and so we lie shamelessly to each other to convey that we're really not that horrible.  I think this approach is defendable under one condition and one condition only: that we really make the effort to become the lovely, nice, kind people that we are trying to sound like.  That we rise to the challenge of our beautiful words.  That we make our words become flesh and then perhaps we ourselves will one day turn into something noble and beautiful.  And honest.

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