Would I Lie to You: The Amazing Power of Being Honest in a World that Lies, by Judi Ketteler
I kind of expected this would be an extended version of the biblical commandment not to lie. But it’s far more nuanced. Ketteler recognizes that “prosocial” lies can serve a purpose of softening a painful message, as she did when someone barged into her swimming lane in a local pool. There was nothing to be gained by making the man feel terrible, so she told him it was a common beginner mistake that she and others had done.
A much more consequential example is protecting hidden Jews from certain death during the Holocaust (p. 65). While that was extreme, it fits in with her identity as a liberal-to-progressive who works to improve the world; she devotes significant space to confronting her own and society’s racism, for instance (pp. 233-236).
She also recognizes that not every truth is necessarily ours to tell. It is not necessarily your role to disrupt a happy marriage by revealing a secret you came across accidentally (p. 188).
Yet, she also argues the other side. She calls herself (and us) out for things like half-truths, omissions, failing to speak up, conflict of interest, exaggeration, unexamined claims, lack of candor (all pp. 45-49 and elsewhere), and sidestepping (p. 128 and elsewhere).
It’s a deeply personal book. We watch her struggle throughout the book with what she calls an “emotional affair”: a nonsexual but deeply intimate friendship with a man who is not her husband, a friendship that could have turned sexual in a heartbeat. How does this affect her husband, his wife, and both of their kids? And we watch her wrestle with several other demons. She also brings up many larger social issues, such as why we hate being lied to but are so willing to distort the truth to others, and what types of identities we can define ourselves with to help us in the honesty struggle (“I am a person who tries to tell the truth,” p. 120), and how we can define others with uplifting messages such as “you could be a helper” instead of “please don’t cheat” (p. 112).
It’s also very well-researched. In addition to the 9-page bibliography, she also includes material from 18 primary-source interviews, mostly with the top researchers studying honesty issues. Unfortunately, it’s missing an index—but it does gather all 11 Honesty Principles introduced at various stages onto a single page (p. 249).
This book evolved out of several shorter pieces and an “honesty journal” kept over several years. In that journal, and in this book, Ketteler argues with herself. Is she sugar-coating how hard it is to be honest? Trying to make herself look too virtuous and failing to note her faults and honesty failures? Has she set the right tone with her clients, her kids, her husband, her dead “screw-up” brother, and even the guy at the pool?
I took five pages of notes. You should read it.
Disclosures: I’ve subscribed to Ketteler’s communications-focused newsletter for several years, and have corresponded with her often about articles she’s posted. I’ve also had my own journey with ethical issues, identified honesty and integrity as two of three key business success principles in a book I wrote in 2003, and keep a public (Facebook) Gratitude Journal where I talk about the good things in my day. I am fully aware that I could chose not to sugarcoat. I could write a daily “grumpitude journal” instead—but I don’t see Andy Rooney as someone to emulate. The truth of my day, the fully honest picture, would include both gratitude and grumpiness—but my journal’s openly stated goal is to bring more happiness into the world. I am under no obligation to increase others’ sorrow and stress by dwelling on my own, plus I believe that the things we pay more attention to begin to dominate our lives, and thus I choose to focus on what I’m grateful for.
