The Quiet Collapse of Truth
With lying becoming an acceptable skill, I thought I should better understand why people do it.
At 13, my personal values were undeveloped and my judgement was poor. These flaws lead me to steal a beer from my dad’s stash to give to my boyfriend as a birthday gift. Not yet adept at hiding alcohol, I was easily caught. Adding to my mistake, I tried to lie my way out of trouble.
My father was a gifted parent. Instead of punishing me (which would have fed my sense of rebellion), he took me for a drive and asked how it felt to steal and then lie about it. As I sat there, trying to absorb the sting of his calm observation, he continued:
“You’re not a child anymore. I can’t control what you do.” he explained, his coach’s voice steady. “But getting away with a lie doesn’t make you any less of a liar. You always have to live with the reality of what you do.”
Though I can’t claim sainthood, his words still shape me.
Apparently the wealthy, well-educated, and supremely entitled people currently running our government missed out on similar parental wisdom. If they had received it, they would have quickly and sincerely acknowledged the mistake of the “Houthi Group Chat” scandal, in which highly sensitive attack details were shared over Signal, an unsecured messaging platform. Maybe one or more officials would have lost their jobs as a result, but the country could have moved on, acknowledging that serious mistakes can happen when people are new to their positions.
They didn’t do that. Instead, the head of the CIA, the Director of National Intelligence, and the Secretary of Defense lied to Congress and the American people with no trace of shame. They deepened the damage by attacking Atlantic Editor in Chief, Jeffrey Goldberg, whom they’d mistakenly included in their chat group and who subsequently raised the alarm about the security breach.
This wasn’t just a momentary lapse in judgment due to adolescent hormones. It was a calculated, coordinated campaign of deception. They lied to avoid the consequences of what they did.
I wish I could say this behavior is rare or limited to one party, but it isn’t. Dishonesty has become a viable strategy for leaders across the spectrum.
Why We Lie
With lying becoming an acceptable skill, I thought I should better understand why people do it. As a parent, I fully understand why we sometimes make shit up. I endorse Santa, the Elf on the Shelf, the Tooth Fairy, and my own invention “The Universal Book of Knowledge,” because sometimes bending the truth is the sanest option available. There’s a range of dishonesty and not every falsehood deserves condemnation.
At the mildest end are harmless fictions: made up stories or answers that entertain, calm, or redirect. These are often tradeoffs. If a lie spares a child pain or encourages better behavior, it might be worth telling. Also in the mostly harmless category are lies of kindness, like telling someone they look fine when they don’t. Or claiming you’re busy when you’re not.
Beyond these light fabrications are more damaging lies — the ones that destroy relationships, erode trust, and incite well-deserved anger. These tend to fall into three categories: tribal affiliations, tactical maneuvers, and intentional weaponry.
Lying to strengthen tribal affiliation signals loyalty to a group, a person, or a role. It communicates “I’m a team player” or “My world, my rules.” Some consider it excusable, even honorable, because it protects unity and maintains a consistent stance for outsiders. Certain leaders expect this act of loyalty as the price of inclusion. Trump makes that expectation explicit almost daily. So did Lyndon Johnson.
In the same tribal spirit, officials might lie to flatter or appease their base. These lies aren’t aimed at the general public but a specific audience that wants to believe them. Supporters may not care if something is factually wrong, as long as it feels emotionally or ideologically right. Climate denial often falls into this category, with leaders privately acknowledging its reality while publicly dismissing it. So do myths like American exceptionalism, claims of a post-racial society, or blanket declarations of gender equality. They feel good to some, but aren’t true.
Lying can also be tactical, a way of gaining favor, buying time, or delaying consequences. Elizabeth Warren made a false claim of Native American heritage, apparently to boost her academic pursuits. Early in his career, Joe Biden embellished his class standing, as have other aspiring candidates who “tweak” their accomplishments like others improve their looks. Even if these types of claims are false, they may still achieve a short-term objective.
At the most malicious end of the falsehood spectrum, lies can be weaponized. They can be used to conceal wrongdoing or confuse the public about what is real. They can blur the line between fact and fiction, leaving people disoriented and cynical. They can distort a story’s shape by framing it early, so even when the truth surfaces, the original false impression sticks. Hillary Clinton was never found guilty of any major offense, yet “lock her up” still gets chanted with little prompting.
The lies about the Houthi group chat are not the harmless variety. At first, members claimed no sensitive information had been shared (wrongly assuming the Atlantic would not release the transcripts). Once that defense collapsed, they quickly pivoted to downplaying the material’s sensitivity, questioning Goldberg’s motives, and minimizing the severity of the breach. Their hope seems to be that bluffing will buy time until the story fades and blurring the facts of what happened will suppress the outrage.
I’m sure we could continue to unpack the Houthi group chat motivations for many pages, but even a deep understanding of the psychology doesn’t excuse lying. It also doesn’t erase or ease the consequences.
What It Costs Us
We’re not yet living in a completely truth-free world, so lying is still costly. When a political leader is caught in a lie, they lose the trust of the public, colleagues, media, and foreign partners. That erosion of trust damages their ability to lead. Now that it’s clear Pete Hegseth lied to cover up his group’s mistake, I imagine the three million people in his department are reevaluating their faith in him.
When top officials are caught in a lie, the damage doesn’t stop at their own reputations. It spreads to the institutions they represent. Staff and allies may feel betrayed or disillusioned. Whistleblowers may come forward. Leaks may increase. Partnerships with other departments or foreign entities may fracture.
When trust in key institutions like the military or defense falters, we’re left with something dangerously fragile or deeply alienating. This type of institutional damage lingers long after the liar is gone. It can take years — and an exceptionally trustworthy leader — to restore public confidence and rebuild the institute’s integrity.
If a lie involves perjury, obstruction, or abuse of office, the legal consequences can be serious, even if they are slow to develop. Investigations, lawsuits, and even criminal charges may follow for years. Politically, this can spur resignations, impeachment, or loss of party support.
Even if a leader escapes short-term fallout, history has tended to judge dishonesty harshly. Think of Nixon and the phrase “I am not a crook” quickly comes to mind. Similarly, few overviews of Clinton’s political career skip his famous assertion: “I did not have sexual relations….” The lie becomes the legacy.
Where It Leaves Us
This country didn’t always allow harmful lies to flourish. Nearly every school child once learned that George Washington’s most valued trait was that he could not tell a lie. When Nixon was caught lying about Watergate, his own party convinced him to resign. When Bill Clinton was caught lying about his relationship with Monica Lewinsky, his public standing took a serious hit.
I suspect some of the blame for the rise in lightweight lying goes to popular brands who routinely fudge the truth when they label processed food as “natural,” and “healthy.” Or when they describe cellular plans as “Free” with an asterisk. Or when they claim mediocre lotion is “clinically proven to reduce the signs of aging.” They push the limits and set new standards of what’s allowed.
But, the growing tolerance of weaponized dishonesty is also tied to the fragmentation of the media and the willingness of some sources to support a lie because it benefits their ratings or audience engagement. By repeating falsehoods or lending them even a trace of credibility, these sources make them more believable. By introducing doubt, they give a surface gloss of truth or at least “truthiness” that makes it more difficult to refute.
That matters because most of the consequences of lying only occur if the lie is revealed. Leaders who get away with lying may even feel virtuous. It may become part of their schtick or their identity, as it did with George Santos who draped himself in lies bold enough to get him elected to Congress.
Undiscovered liars may consider their political use of dishonesty to be an asset. They may feel like they’ve outwitted their opponents or maneuvered their way past consequences. And maybe, by their own metrics, they have. But I hope most of us would rather live in the world my dad inhabited and embrace his take on lying.
It doesn’t matter if you’re caught.
It doesn’t matter if you skate by mostly unscathed.
If you lie, you are a liar.
And you have to live with that.
Your Turn
I’m guessing we’re all on team “Don’t Lie” but it’s clearly not a black and white situation. Here’s what I’m asking myself:
If you watched the House Committee hearing that evolved into a debate on the actions of the Houthi Group chat members, what was your emotional reaction? We can all discuss the logic of their choices, but I’m more interested in how learning about this made you feel.
Have your standards of honesty changed for yourself or others? Do you or people you know lie more than you did previously?
Some claim that we are a nation distracted by technology and the everyday stress of life. They assert not enough of us care about politics or leaders to hold them accountable. Is this the truth or another lie?
Is there a path forward that returns us to the time when truth was valued and lying was not?
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Interesting distinction Steve. We may be the victims of more frequent lying, even if our own standards remain unchanged. But someone is generating all those lies, right?
(1) I felt disgusted and outraged when the Houthi scandal broke. Their unconvincing efforts at damage control by denial and misrepresentation were pathetically lame. This certainly confirmed the warnings we heard about Trump picking highly unqualified cabinet appointees. Attacking Goldberg with suggestions that he somehow hacked into their chat was beyond ridiculous. There would have been no way for Goldberg to know the text group even existed, let alone add himself to it. (2) I would be lying if I said I never told a lie. Everyone tells a lie at some point, but overall I consider myself a decent and reasonably honest person. (3) I hope that the incessant lying will go out of style one day soon. Is there a path to a more truthful society? I don’t know, but I would love to live in a world with less deceit. (4) This is a great post and I love it!