I’ve been watching the Republican National Convention on television, and the response to that shindig from people on the other side, and while it has been great theater, I started feeling pretty sorry for everyone involved because it looks like all that posturing, and spinning, and often outright prevaricating may be making them unhappy, unhealthy, and may be even shortening their lives.
Lots of things happened during the hiatus I took from this column last month on account of new babies in the family, weddings that needed attending, and a house addition that needed finishing, but one of the most interesting to me was the presentation of a study at the American Psychological Association’s annual convention called the “Science of Honesty” that found that telling fewer lies can actually have a significant beneficial impact on a person’s mental and physical health. Astoundingly, that study got almost no media attention, but it should have because it turns out that most of us “average Americans” tell about 11 lies per week, and it’s taking a toll on us.
Think about that for a second — that’s almost two lies a day per person. Granted, most of them are probably in the “little white lie” category. We all do it, if we’re honest enough to admit it. We exaggerate here and there, we’re not entirely honest about why we’re late for dinner or work, or forgot a birthday, or didn’t finish a task. And we’re probably all guilty of the one where someone we love asks our opinion on something (“Does this dress/pair of pants make my butt look big?”), and we answer with less than the unvarnished truth, which can often be hurtful. But you’ve also gotta figure that there’s an occasional whopper in there, and our aggregated falsehoods are giving us the fantods.
In the study, conducted by Anita E. Kelly, Ph.D., a professor of psychology at Notre Dame, researchers took a group of 110 people ranging in age from 18 to 71 from several ethnicities and income ranges. Half of the group was told to stop telling lies of any kind for 10 weeks. They told the other half to do nothing out of the ordinary. They brought both bunches into the lab every week — where they took polygraph tests to figure out how many lies they’d actually told in the time period. They also were evaluated in a number of areas relating to health and relationships.
The results were fairly stunning. People who told as few as three fewer white lies in a week reported four fewer mental-health complaints for things like feeling stressed or sad, and about three fewer physical gripes, like headaches and sore throats. Not only that, as time went on, the people trying to lie less started feeling better about themselves as human beings, more self-confident and secure in their own skins. Over time, they reported that their closest personal relationships were better, and they enjoyed social situations more.
It’s easy to understand why. Unless people have a screw loose somewhere and are immune to guilt, most of us feel bad about lying when we do it. For one thing, we always wonder what people will think of us if we get caught, and we browbeat ourselves for dishonesty, especially with those we love, and for taking the easy way out. For another, telling a lie can be hard work. You have to remember your lies, and who you tell them to, so that they don’t come back to haunt you later, as in:
Boss: “You didn’t show up for work yesterday, and you didn’t call in. Were you ill? If you were, we’re going to need a doctor’s slip in order to count it as a sick day.”
Employee: “No, I wasn’t sick, but my Uncle Walter was. I had to rush him to the emergency room, and we waited around for almost seven hours before he saw a doctor. I tried to call, but there was no cell signal in the building.”
Boss: “Your Uncle Walt? You told us he died last year. You took three days off.”
Employee, stammering a little: “No, no, that was my other Uncle Walt, from my father’s side of the family, who died. The sick Uncle Walt was on my mother’s side. The only way we could tell them apart was that one of them had a huge nose and … .” But by that time, the boss is walking away, because he, or she, has likely heard this story, or a version of it, a thousand times before, and he, or she, is wondering how soon this lying sod can be cut from the payroll.
If telling 11 lies a week has a demonstrable physical and mental impact, just think what the cumulative effect must be over 50 or 60 years. It’s got to be just about as bad as drinking a Big Gulp 32-ounce soda and eating a package of Twinkies a day, and even Big Nanny Bloomberg will never be able to regulate it. It’s no wonder so many of us are looking a bit peaked.
Personally, I don’t plan to change a thing (as long as they keep making aspirin for the headaches). Everything in moderation, that’s my motto. So no, Mrs. Russelthwaite, that dress does not look like it was made from couch fabric used at Studio 54, no matter what your husband said. In fact, you look stunning.
Helpful hint: According to the researchers, some participants in the study said that they learned to avoid lying by responding to a dicey question by asking another question. Say, for example, that you are asked, “Do you like my new hair color?” Instead of saying, “No, it makes you look like a cherry Life Saver,” you could simply respond “Have you always been attracted to primary colors?” Give it a try and let me know how it turns out.
Gregory Bean is the former executive editor of Greater Media Newspapers. You can reach him at [email protected].