Chapter 1: The Intriguing Nature of Lies

What if our inclination to deceive is the very barrier to achieving a more enlightened existence? This thought struck me while watching "3 Body Problem" on Netflix. The series portrays an alien civilization grappling with human dishonesty, prompting me to reflect on how our daily fabrications affect our societies, relationships, and our very essence as humans.

The narrative unfolds with a covert military initiative sending a message into space, which is intercepted by a more advanced alien race residing on a planet four light-years away. This alien world, characterized by three suns, is mostly uninhabitable for extended periods. A handful of their ships are on course for Earth, set to arrive in several centuries.

In the meantime, the aliens are eager to understand humanity. One disillusioned Earthling, who believes only outsiders can save us, offers insights during a teaching session. He shares the fairy tale "Little Red Riding Hood" with an alien representative, whom I’ll refer to as "she" due to her feminine voice.

The alien comprehends the story to a certain extent. However, when it reaches the point where the wolf masquerades as the grandmother to deceive the young girl, the alien struggles to grasp its significance. The concepts of lying and deceit are foreign to her. No amount of explanation clarifies the meaning of intentionally concealing the truth or its perceived necessity.

We soon learn that communication among the aliens is telepathic, where one’s thoughts are accessible to those they wish to engage with—there is no room for deception. Transparency is the norm in their interactions.

The alien concludes that a story must be “a lie about a liar.” After realizing that all humans lie, she abruptly severs ties with humanity, stating:

“A liar is someone whose words are false. A liar cannot be trusted. We cannot coexist with liars. We are afraid of you.”

We all lie—some more frequently than others. If I were in her position, I would have attempted to explain the complexities of this behavior more thoroughly, treading carefully when addressing potential visitors who lack any understanding of the concept.

Lying is intricate and difficult to explain to someone unfamiliar with it. Why do we engage in such behavior? Often, it stems from fear. We hide our true selves behind facades, believing this shields us from misunderstandings, embarrassment, and judgment. We maintain an illusion of normalcy, convinced that a lack of transparency simplifies interactions. Yet, who truly considers the ensuing complications?

For some, deceit has become a sport. They’ve lied so consistently that it’s morphed into a habit. Some may have lost sight of truthfulness entirely, as lying can create favorable circumstances for them. Why not continue if it benefits them?

I have a cousin who exemplifies this behavior. She serves as a case study for me. Her lying isn’t pathological; she doesn't suffer from any psychological conditions like mythomania. However, she was raised in an environment where deceit was commonplace, and I suspect she simply absorbed these practices.

I believe she is unaware of alternative ways to navigate relationships and situations. The concept of authenticity is entirely alien to her.

Ironically, she believes everyone around her accepts her fabrications. In reality, many of us recognize when she strays from the truth. She employs tactics we all recognize: playing the fool, theatricality, and speaking slowly to gain time. Her body language often betrays her, too.

In contrast, I feel uncomfortable with dishonesty. I prefer to be as candid as the situation allows. I understand that unfiltered truths can cause pain, and I try to avoid inflicting harm.

However, I also acknowledge that there are instances when telling a harmless lie is necessary to prevent greater distress. Even I, being human, sometimes choose deception. But opting not to disclose the truth is a constant struggle for me. In contexts where diplomacy seems more fitting, lying feels unnatural. Although I occasionally resort to it due to circumstances, it never feels right.

Recently, I learned that an aunt I care about has cancer—stage three. She is unaware that my family and I are privy to this information, so we pretend we don’t know. It’s her secret to share, and we don’t want to add to her discomfort.

My cousin also knows the truth. When she visited and I expressed my discomfort with lying to my aunt, she dismissed my feelings, implying I was naive for believing lies could be harmful. Her mantra seems to be that lies are often necessary in life.

While she’s correct that honesty can sometimes cause more harm than good, her dismissive tone made me feel foolish for valuing truthfulness.

We inhabit vastly different worlds. I resonate with the alien's perspective: a liar cannot be trusted, and I share her apprehension toward deceit. My cousin, however, thrives amidst dishonesty; they align with her values, but not mine. I prefer the company of genuine individuals and would rather be perceived as naive than make a habit of lying.

If you’re curious, I recognize that "3 Body Problem" is a work of fiction. But who’s to say there aren’t other worlds out there where inhabitants are better off due to their unfamiliarity with lies and deceit?

Chapter 2: Reflections on Truth and Deceit