Understand the motive behind a lie

I don't bandy about the word "liar." That is, when I discover that someone has withheld a truth or told me a not-quite-truth or a half-truth or advanced an outright falsehood (known to the teller as false), I don't immediately pounce on the person and brand the word "liar" on his or her forehead. And that's for several reasons.

First, I defend an important distinction between "a lie" and "A Liar." I'm not saying the two ideas are unrelated. Certainly if I habituate the telling of unexamined, unaccountable lies, I would indeed become A Liar. And that would not be OK.

But "a lie" does not necessarily, always and only come out of the mouth of "A Liar." So, when I find out about a lie, my first move (especially if I love and care about you) is not judgment. Not some thundering, terrible moral conclusion of "Liar!" Rather, my first move is … curiosity.

To wit: Why did you just lie to me? What's going on? What's your motive? I treasure understanding far more than I value the "gotcha" of moral condemnation. The latter is easy. The former takes effort. Not to mention that understanding is generally a more effective change agent than shame.

Second, I'm slow to pull the trigger on the word "liar" because of compassion. The human condition stirs in me empathy, mercy and pathos much more often than righteous indignation. I like that about me.

Last and most obvious, I hesitate to conclude someone is "A Liar" because if "a lie" has the power to make someone "A Liar" then … everybody is A Liar. I'm saying, what would "liar" mean if reduced to banality?

Untruth (that is, a lie) emerges along an observable continuum:

On the low-budget end is "the spin." Everybody does it. In fact, most people reserve the right to organize, order and present truth in a particular way. Specifically, in a way that makes them look better than worse. It's why there are defense attorneys. For that matter, it's why there are skilled makeup artists, hair stylists and wardrobe consultants. It's all spin. We're trying to downplay or even hide flaws while accentuating positives.

Then there is spin's close cousin: dissembling. To dissemble is not technically to lie, but to nonetheless deliberately conceal our true motives, feelings and beliefs. Everybody does this. In fact, there are regularly scenarios in our lives when to do otherwise would be purely foolish. In some relationships, we dissemble to survive.

It is unwise to be always and in every case emotionally honest.

Next is obfuscating. To obfuscate is to deliberately blur meaning into willful ambiguity. The goal is to confuse. To keep the listener off balance. If you're really good at this, you can leave your audience believing deeply they understand you when you know they do not. This was your goal. When my English ancestors say, "He is a man of many words" … well, it's not a compliment.

Next on the trajectory is withholding truth. In part or in whole. There are many reasons to withhold truth. Those reasons range from noble to prudent to slimy to flat immoral.

Now on the continuum we cross what is, for most people, a line. That is, up until we're talking about everybody. The human condition. But these next lies are … something else.

The inflation lie: to exaggerate or flat fabricate status, achievements, life experiences, credentials, data, history of record, honors, skills or anything that aggrandizes us in the eyes of others. The inflation lie ranges from minor, slightly pathetic self-exaggeration ("I once met Clint Eastwood") to near pathological social deception (like people who place unearned academic credentials next to their name or practice medicine for years without a license.)

The shame/embarrassment lie: It's just easier to say, "There was an accident on the freeway," than it is to say, "I completely forgot about this appointment and slept late."

And now another line is crossed …

There are lies told to steal. Lies told to cheat. To exploit. To betray. Lies told to deliberately ruin a reputation. There are lies told to cover immorality. To cover crime.

To cover evil.

For most of us ordinarily good, ordinarily flawed human beings, lying is a bad habit best to be avoided.

My teacher Ruth once said to me that the fail-safe antidote for lying was to say, "I'm a liar."

"Because, Steven," she said, "to say 'I'm a liar' is to instantly become a perfect teller of the truth."

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Las Vegas Psychiatry and the author of "Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing" (Stephens Press). His column appears on Mondays. Contact him at 702-227-4165 or skalas@reviewjournal.com.