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The New
Republic (Online)
Is all that matters
in contemporary culture whether a line sounds good? That's the thesis of
an important, provocative new book, The Post-Truth Era, by Ralph Keyes.
It's Keyes's thesis that in the current ethos, whether something is
believed has become more important than whether it's true. Keyes cites
psychological research showing that people lie far more often than we'd
like to think--constantly telling petty lies they think will never be
detected and often telling whoppers, even to friends and loved ones. One
study showed that 28 percent of conversations among friends contained
conscious lies, and 77 percent of conversations between strangers did
so. The lies were on matters of substance, not just "your column is good
today" and the many similar prevarications intended to avoid hurt
feelings.
So perhaps Americans
are no longer outraged when politicians lie because we lie so often in
our daily lives. Much everyday lying, Keyes says, concerns constructing
attractive pasts for ourselves. "I was the quarterback on my high school
football team" or "I have a master's degree" or "I had lots of proposals
of marriage" or many other claims along these lines are told both to
impress others and to make ourselves feel our own pasts were richer or
more accomplished. … Americans like and even admire personal mythmaking
and thus don't seem to object much when political figures lie to puff up
their pasts. Lyndon Johnson, for example, constantly told audiences his
grandfather died at the Alamo; his grandfather died at home in bed, but
an Alamo myth made Texas voters more comfortable with LBJ. Jesse Ventura
elaborately claimed to have been a Navy SEAL and to have fought in
Vietnam. Keyes contends that neither claim was true--but the mythical
Ventura had proven attractive to voters. LBJ and Ventura, it must be
noted, came out ahead by presenting personal histories they wished were
true.
There are many other
examples, and The Post-Truth Era collects dozens, making it an
invaluable compendium of the decline of respect for verity in modern
culture. Today many would rather watch a docudrama, in which viewers
have absolutely no idea what is historical and what is imaginary, than
read carefully researched history. The made-up version is more
interesting! Many would rather listen to Michael Moore or the Swift Boat
guys--Moore on the left and the Swifties on the right being current
exemplars of post-truth politics--since the sort of arguments in which
it doesn't matter what is true are more fun than tedious accuracy. The
really disturbing trend, Keyes argues, is that so many figures in
contemporary politics, literature, journalism, and other fields get away
with so much lying about themselves. The public appears to prefer the
post-truth version.
Keyes blames the
decline of respect for truth partly on intellectual modernism and
postmodernism. Intellectuals, he says, crusaded to convince people that
there are no absolute truths, that everything is contingent or based on
frames of reference. Calamity descended as people actually decided to
believe this. Postmodernism's worst idea has infected popular culture,
and now millions of Americans and Europeans believe that nothing is
really truth. … I commend to readers The Post-Truth Era as an antidote.
Gregg Easterbrook
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The Christian Post
Have we now reached a
stage of social evolution that is "beyond honesty?" That fascinating
question is raised by author Ralph Keyes in his new book, The
Post-Truth Era: Dishonesty and Deception in Contemporary Life. "I
think it's fair to say that honesty is on the ropes," Keyes observes.
"Deception has become commonplace at all levels of contemporary life."
By the time you finish
reading The Post-Truth Era, Keyes is likely to have convinced you
that dishonesty is now the order of the day, and that deception has now
been institutionalized at virtually every level of American culture.
Keyes is an author of
keen perception and wide-ranging observation. He has pulled together an
enormous body of evidence, all pointing to the pervasive rise of
dishonesty in American life. As Jeremy Campbell remarked in The
Liars' Tale, "It is a creeping assumption at the start of a new
millennium that there are things more important than truth."
Keyes acknowledges that
human beings have lied in the past, but he suggests that the current
generation of liars has developed a skillfulness and nuance in lying
that is virtually unprecedented in the human experience. "Even though
there have always been liars, lies have usually been told with
hesitation, a dash of anxiety, a bit of guilt, a little shame, at least
some sheepishness," Keyes notes. "Now, clever people that we are, we
have come up with rationales for tampering with truth so we can
dissemble guilt-free."
Keyes has a label for
this new age of dishonesty. "I call it post-truth. We live in a
post-truth era." Keyes credits the late Steve Tesich with coining this
phrase, but Keyes now applies it with vigor to our contemporary culture.
"Post-truthfulness exists in an ethical twilight zone," he explains. "It
allows us to dissemble without considering ourselves dishonest. When our
behavior conflicts with our values, what we're most likely to do is
reconceive our values." Since we do not want to think of ourselves as
unethical, we simply "devise alternative approaches to morality."
As evidence of this
cultural acceptance of lying, Keyes notes the rise of euphemisms for
deception. "We no longer tell lies. Instead we 'misspeak.' We
'exaggerate.' We 'exercise poor judgment.' 'Mistakes were made,' we say.
The term 'deceive' gives way to the more playful 'spin.' At worst,
saying 'I wasn't truthful' sounds better than 'I lied'." Keyes suggests
that the use of such euphemisms is a new cultural syndrome he identifies
as "euphemasia." This would include everything from terms such as
"credibility gap," to Winston Churchill's "terminological
inexactitudes."
What are we to do with
terms such as "poetic truth," "nuanced truth," "alternative reality," or
"strategic misrepresentations?" In our technological age, driven by a
digitalized dimension of lying, we are now accustomed to talking about
"virtual truth."
In a fascinating
section, Keyes traces the history of lying. He suggests that early
civilizations depended on honesty, at least within the kinship group,
for the establishment of stable order and trust. Once society becomes
more complicated and diverse, lying becomes more routine. In some
cultures, lying to an enemy or a stranger is not considered immoral at
all.
In more modern eras,
lying was raised to a higher art form. In the history of Protestant
confessionalism, creeds were to be accepted "without hesitation or
mental reservation." This language continues among confessional
Christians, who may wonder how the term "mental reservation" emerged in
the first place.
Keyes supplies this
explanation, tracing the use of "mental reservation" back to the
Reformation era, when Catholics developed "mental reservation" as a
defense for telling an untruth under threat of persecution. "In time,
however, it became an easy way to rationalize all manner of
prevarication," Keyes explains. The device of "mental reservation"
allowed an individual to hold or "reserve" the truth to himself even as
he misled an interrogator. Before long, others used this excuse in order
to give apparent assent to creedal statements while privately rejecting
the very truths articulated in the statement of faith.
Just how important is
honesty, after all? "Honesty's market value is too little appreciated in
the history of ethics," Keyes argues. "Truth telling underlies not just
individual reputations but the health of society as a whole." Without
honesty, there can be no confidence in legal contracts, no shared
confidence in social arrangements, and no authority for the rule of law.
As argued by Enlightenment philosopher Immanuel Kant, a healthy society
can't remain healthy so long as it accepts lies. "For a lie always harms
another," Kant asserted, "if not some other particular man, still it
harms mankind generally, for it vitiates the source of law itself."
Is lying a symptom of
social pathology? Keyes considers the argument that social dislocation
and disconnectedness breed dishonesty. Surveying modern sociological
literature, Keyes acknowledges a link between post-truthfulness and the
loss of community. "When it comes to post-truthfulness, the fraying of
human connections is both cause and effect. Not feeling connected to
others makes it easier to lie, which in turn makes it harder to
reconnect. Eroded communities foster dishonesty. Dishonesty contributes
to the further erosion of communities. As communal bonds wither,
unfettered self-interest is unleashed."
Most of us are largely
unaware of the pervasive dishonesty around us--even the dishonesty and
deception included in our understanding of the past. Keyes goes after
several of America's most cherished historical legends, demonstrating
that many are "apocryphal in whole or in part." The famous story of
George Washington and the cherry tree was invented by a moralistic
clergyman, ironically as an argument for honesty.
"Puffery is an art form
in the United States," Keyes asserts. Self-invention becomes a way of
climbing the social ladder. Ralph Lifshitz transforms himself into Ralph
Lauren, and spawns one of America's most famous and profitable lifestyle
brands. The classical and Anglophile style of Ralph Lauren's designs
would be more awkwardly marketed under the name, Ralph Lifshitz.
Martha Stewart, now
serving time in federal prison for lying to federal authorities, is
identified by Keyes as one of "the quintessential reinvented Americans."
Unlike Ralph Lauren, who openly acknowledges his origins, Keyes accuses
Martha Stewart of going to incredible and extreme effort to hide her
humble roots.
In an article written
for an early issue of Martha Stewart Living, Stewart wrote an
editorial tribute to honesty. "We must remember," she chided, "--and
teach our children (and perhaps our political figures)--one essential;
the truth shall make you free." Nevertheless, Keyes presents a very
different picture of America's domestic adviser. "Martha Stewart
routinely misrepresented the type of family she grew up in, her father's
occupation, whom she dated in college, where her roommate was from, what
she earned as a model, the size of party she threw, her husband's
ability to father children, how much of her own writing she did, where
her home was located (to avoid paying taxes), and why she sold her
ImClone stocks."
In the professional
world, resumes are now assumed to be inflated. San Francisco mayor
Willie Brown once observed, "I don't know anyone who doesn't lie on
their resume." The most pervasive form of "credential inflation" is the
listing of unearned degrees. "An estimated half million Americans hold
jobs for which their purported qualifications are spurious," Keyes
reports, adding that an investigation conducted by the General
Accounting Office once revealed twenty-eight senior federal officials
who did not actually hold the college degrees they claimed. Hauntingly,
Keyes relates that one personnel official with a hospital told him that
job applicants, once informed that their credentials would be checked by
a professional firm, sometimes withdrew their applications. Reportedly,
nearly a third of those applying for positions took back their
applications and never returned.
Making his way through
the terrain of deception in American life, Keyes notes that some
individuals have become "recreational liars." They spin tales which are
willingly received by some as truths. While this may appear harmless,
the practice lowers the credibility of the entire society.
What about the law?
According to Black's Law Dictionary, a "legal fiction" is "an
assumption that something is true even though it may be untrue." In
other words, lawyers are obligated, according to the professional
standards of the bar, to use whatever argument will work in defending a
client, whether or not it is true. In one perverse case, Keyes documents
the work of one Florida prosecutor who argued in one courtroom that a
pair of teenage boys had killed their father and then entered another
courtroom to argue that a family friend--not the teenagers--was the real
murderer. "From a strictly legal perspective this was not inconsistent,"
Keyes observes, "but it certainly put a spotlight on the contrast
between concepts of truthfulness within courts of law and those
without."
Lies are now routinely
accepted in political argument and in literature. The line between
fiction and nonfiction is now blurry at best. Some recent best-selling
titles in the "non-fiction" category have been highly fictional. Does
anyone even care?
Keyes identifies the
academic world as the source of much confusion when it comes to honesty.
Postmodern philosophers routinely dismiss objective truth, and assert
that all truth is simply social construction and invention. Authorities
in power simply invent truth in order to buttress their authority, the
postmodernists allege. Following this logic, lying becomes a means of
liberation. As Keyes observes, "Jeremy Campbell exaggerated only
slightly when he observed that to a postmodernist, being overly
concerned with telling the truth 'is a sign of depleted resources, a
psychological disorder, a character defect, a kind of linguistic
anorexia'."
Debunking the
postmodernist worldview, Keyes simply clarifies the obvious: "Asking
what constitutes truth is an appropriate topic for intellectual inquiry,
but it doesn't follow that the difficulty of identifying what is
objectively true gives us license to tell each other lies."
The Post-Truth Era
offers perceptive analysis of American culture in the new
millennium. Without the recovery of truth, this civilization is doomed
to a descent into even deeper levels of deception and dishonesty. As a
culture, it's about time we faced the truth about our acceptance of
untruthfulness.
R. Albert Mohler, Jr.