The lying game

Outrageous Fortune actress Nicole Whippy resorted to the 'detox' cover when she was in the first stage of her pregnancy. Photo / Janna Dixon

Everyone loves catching out a liar. The more egregious, audacious and absurd the porky, the better. Think of the scorn poured on French rugby player Mathieu Bastareaud last month when he admitted lying about being attacked by five people after a test match - a cover story for injuries he got from falling over drunk (some believe the real truth was that he was roughed up by his own teammates). Or the righteous indignation at President Bill Clinton's laughable word-play as he denied sexual relations with "that woman", Monica Lewinsky. New Zealand's Rogue's Gallery of red-faced Pinocchios includes former head of Maori TV John Davy and his phoney degrees.

But, if we were honest, we'd admit most of us lie once or twice a day if we define lying as anything designed to mislead, including the partial truth (saying only that you like the colour of a friend's new car when you hate everything else about it).

Studies in which people keep lie diaries suggest we deliberately mislead others in one in four non-fleeting interactions. And, that we're lied to about 200 times a day. Text and email seems to make truth-bending easier. What's more, mostly we're fooled. Despite the urban myths about telltale signs - sorry, but failure to meet a person's eye isn't a reliable clue - we're generally no better at detecting lies than leaving it to chance.

Is all this casual, expedient deception a sign of moral decay, as some commentators fret? How do we condemn lying in public figures, while merrily fibbing through our days on the other, fingers crossed behind our backs? Is lying really that bad?

Aucklander Richard Neal is a seasoned liar. He lies strategically, he lies surreally, he lies outrageously, and he is not ashamed. Neal, a 32-year-old general manager, sees lying as an essential social lubricant, almost always a justifiable means to an end, no more intrinsically good or bad than the truth. "Lying is perfectly permissible," he says. "Sometimes you could argue telling the truth is morally wrong. People say they want honesty, but they just want kindness. Whether that's truth or lying is totally irrelevant. People don't want to know if their arse looks big or if they're bad in bed. Everybody's happy to live with slight lies. It's like a giant, group suspension of disbelief."

In his single days, Neal would blithely spin fictions about himself to pick up women - with success, he claims. "When women asked what I did, I used to tell them I was a model. They'd say, no you're not. I'd say yes, I model for Postie Plus and Farmers. The trick is not to aim too high."

Neal's idea of acceptable deceptions may go beyond most other people's. But could society's true threshold for falsehoods be lower than we tell ourselves?

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In the upcoming movie The Invention of Lying, Ricky Gervais lives in a world in which everyone tells the truth - and it hurts. He stumbles into telling the first lie ever and realises it can work to his advantage. So he tells a few more.

Aside from spiteful deceit, lying for personal gain gets the worst rap. Deception researchers divide lies into two categories: self-serving versus altruistic. Self-serving lies include fibs told to impress people, or to avoid embarrassment. Examples of altruistic ones are lies meant to spare someone's feelings or boost their confidence.

In lie diary studies, University of California psychologist Bella de Paulo found about three-quarters of lies her participants told were self-serving. On average, participants told two self-serving lies for every altruistic lie when men were involved as liars or targets. When only women were involved, the split was even.

De Paulo found most self-promoting liars seemed troubled by their dissembling only when they were caught out. A 29-year-old Aucklander bears this out. She recalls the time she tried to pass off a cake her mum made as her own.

"My brother dropped it off and I took it to the work do the next day, pretending that I'd made it. Eventually I almost believed that I'd made it. That night, some friends came round and I fed them the leftover cake. They said, did you make this?', and I said yes. Then my brother turned up unannounced and told us all how unimpressed he was at having to drop round mum's cake to me. Sprung!"

Her justification: "I don't think little white lies hurt anyone and can often save a lot of trouble."

Auckland teacher Nathan Edwards echoes her pragmatism. Take job interviews, he says. It's almost an unspoken rule that people talk themselves up and are selective with the truth in CVs.

"I think everyone knows that - you don't tell porkies, but you exaggerate slightly."

And many of our lies of personal convenience protect other social values, like privacy.

Outrageous Fortune actress Nicole Whippy, 30, pictured, resorted to the "detox" cover when she was in the first stage of her pregnancy with Pearl, born last month.

"It was coming into summer and everyone was into that backyard, have a beer attitude, and I wasn't playing along," she recalls.

"Normally I'm the first one suggesting it! I'd say, I'm detoxing.' And with having a bit of extra weight people accepted that - they were like, you need it. But my really close friends clicked straight away."

PR consultant Georgie Hills, 32, has spent the past 12 or so weeks lying to friends and family to hide her pregnancy. She and her husband decided to keep it under wraps for the first trimester.

"It's a really special time to share together," she explains, "and the traditional advice is to wait till the first trimester is done because there is a reasonable risk of miscarriage."

Hills was inventive in concealing her sudden teetotalling. She told people she was taking her hockey seriously so she wasn't drinking on the nights before training of games. She bought Edenvale, an Australian range of wine that's had the alcohol removed, and poured herself a glass when she poured real wine for her friends. "I think there's a bit of complicity: some people know you're fibbing and they let you get away with it," she says.

"It's okay to be economical with the truth in certain circumstances, and the early stage of pregnancy is one of those. I know some people keep it under wraps because they're trying to get their head around it, or they worry about the effect it will have on their career."

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The people of whom we demand the highest standards of honesty are, generally, politicians. Labour's Lianne Dalziel resigned as a minister when she was caught out in a fib.

Yet even MPs, it seems, may be forgiven some degree of selective omission. In May, ACC Minister Nick Smith announced to Parliament that there would be redundancies at the accident insurer.

Labour MP Grant Robertson protested that Smith had "disrespected" the affected staff by disclosing the redundancies before they had been told. So what was Robertson suggesting? That Smith should have been less than honest, out of compassion?

The thing is, truth and fiction are not cut and dried. Auckland mother Evelyn Marsters, 28, doesn't like to lie. "I like the drama of the truth," she says.

But she recognises that people tailor the version of the "truth" that they portray to each person.

"You can't expect every conversation you have to be real and accurate," she says.

"People generally want to make a good impression and to make other people feel good about themselves. So if you give misinformation with that in mind, I don't think that's bad. But in circumstances of real pain, I think lying makes it worse."

The line between lies most people would forgive - even demand - and no-go zones is slippery. Joey George, an information systems professor at Florida State University, says it varies across culture, time and peer group.

"In some East Asian countries it may be acceptable to lie to protect the group," he says, "but it would not be acceptable to lie to protect or promote an individual."

Wherever the lines lie, are there lies that will truly set our pants on fire, no matter how good we are at rationalising them?

There are lies even brazen fibber Richard Neal won't tell: ones that would endanger someone, perjury, lies around money or property transactions. And, if his partner asked him for the truth on something important, he'd tell her.

But, overall he has no moral compunction. "The end'," he says, "is that most people get along."

Lying in Relationships

Lie to me/I promise I'll believe/Lie to me/But please don't leave - Strong Enough, by Sheryl Crow.

Surveys show the things partners commonly conceal and deceive each other about include reasons for not spending time together, past relationships, differences in beliefs, sexual history and enjoyment.

When Bella De Paulo compared lies that her participants told to people close to them, with lies told to acquaintances or strangers, she discovered a paradox.

Looking just at white lies, participants told fewer self-serving fibs, and more altruistic ones, to people they knew than to strangers. But nearly two-thirds of lies rated as serious by the liar - which are self-serving 90 per cent of the time - were levelled at, or by, parents, partners, best friends or children.

We say we value honesty in relationships, but when it comes to our king-hit whoppers, it seems our nearest and dearest are most often the target. De Paulo puts it down to the unrealistically high expectations we place on partners: fear of judgment and punishment stops us admitting when we inevitably fall short.

Auckland relationship therapist Nic Beets says by deceiving our partners about significant parts of ourselves, we're cheating ourselves and our partners.

"Those kinds of lies of omission about our inner core - if you're not sharing that with your partner then you're never going to feel like you're really loved for who you are."

Not that he advises blurting out everything. "The fact that you once got drunk with a bunch of mates and went off and slept with a prostitute 20 years ago: is that a big part of who you are? Probably not. Do you need to tell your partner? Probably not."

And when you do need to 'fess up, "there's a place for tact, diplomacy and timing".

Beets differs from some therapists in advising clients to mend their relationship before admitting to an affair: "If your relationship hasn't been good, and you've ended up having an affair, get your relationship solid, then if you still want to tell, talk about it then."

Lying to children

Liar, Liar, your pants are on fire - children's chant

If Kiwi parents are anything like the British, they tell their children a "white lie" every day just to get their way. A UK survey last year of 3000 parents found that 66 per cent were prepared to resort to a lie if all else failed.

The most common porky, told by 84 per cent of parents, was that Santa Claus only gives presents to good children. Sixty per cent had told their children that sitting too close to the television will give them square eyes. One in five parents told their sons that if they play with their genitals too much, they will drop off.

As well as behavioural control, parents lie to shield their children from messy or upsetting truths, such as sex and death.

Experts mostly agree that keeping up the myth of Santa Claus and the tooth fairy doesn't hurt, and stimulates children's imagination. But they say manipulative lies should not be a parent's modus operandi.

As for the curly questions, the advice is to check what the child is actually asking and their understanding of the issue, then pitch your answer accordingly. Often, less is more.

Parents Inc chief Bruce Pilbrow mentions the Mitsubishi ad showing a father give an involved, earnest answer to his son's question, "Where did I come from?" The son muses, then replies: "That's so cool dad! Cos Jimmy Johnson only comes from Scotland."

Same goes for the death of a pet, says Pilbrow. "Tell them Sparkle has died, but you don't need to say I found him mashed up on the side of the road with his eyes popping out'."

Tips for lying well

1 Lie by email or text message. It's easier to get away with because you don't leak clues through your body language or tone. But watch your word length. According to developers of software meant to detect lying in emails, messages that mask a lie have, on average, 28 per cent more words than truthful emails.

2 Avoid being touchy-feely in your written language. Supposed giveaways include vagueness in explaining causes, and overuse of "sense terms", such as "feel", "see" and "touch" to make a fake scenario more realistic.

3 Keep it simple, and broadly feasible. The more elaborate and far-fetched, the more details to trip you up, and the more you have to remember.

4 Lie to a man. There is some evidence women are better than men at detecting deception.

Tips for spotting liars

1 Listen closely. North American studies suggest a change in pitch of voice may be a cue:"I did not do that," where the "not" is said emphatically and in a higher tone.

2 Look into their eyes. Liars' pupils grow larger. Problem is, you have to be really close to them and watch carefully to notice the dilation.

3 Video your suspected phoney and play it back in slow motion. Psychologist Paul Ekman has identified "micro-expressions" of intense emotion that flit across liars' faces before they get a chance to stifle them. In real life, as many as 99 per cent of people will fail to spot these signals.

4 Personality plus? Experts say habitual liars tend to be more manipulative and irresponsible than people who tell few lies; they also care deeply about what people think of them and are more extroverted.