The Stranger’s Dishonesty

← Back to root

:@2023.07.05:

Let’s distinguish between two types of dishonesty. We often discuss the first type:

I “like” your cooking. I “don’t” have a crush on you.

Intentions might be good. Social tact occasionally warrants a white lie. Intentions might be bad: we want to hide from Mom that we broke the vase. Either way, we’re usually aware of this type of lie.

The second type is tricky to describe. Failures to say what we truly mean are in this category.

Poem: “Legacies” by Nikki Giovanni

Imagine the end of a rare meeting with an old friend. “I had a great time today” might be sentimental by our standards. But for me, there’s always something burning within: “I appreciate you more than I’ve ever said. I’m grateful for your support over the years. This meeting was the highlight of my month. Thank you.”

We did have a great time. It’s only a lie of omission. But, I claim, it’s a different sort of omission than we make after breaking the vase.

Let’s call the first type “Rogue’s dishonesty”, and the second type “Stranger’s dishonesty”.

The first type conceals us. Our standing in the world seems superficially better when we hide our awkwardness, disloyalty, culpability, and weakness. Rogue’s dishonesty presents a designed false self.

When we present a false self that is not designed, this is Stranger’s dishonesty. We show selves we don’t know, maybe accidentally, maybe consciously. Perhaps a thought from an unknown place alights on our tongue. While driving home from my meeting with my friend, I think: “Do I really feel so strongly? Why didn’t I say anything? Is the me that made small talk more or less real than the me who had grand thoughts?”

Stranger’s dishonesty is present when our words misalign with our motivations and beliefs. My family is relatively lovely; when I get snappy with them, that’s Stranger’s dishonesty. I fail to tell them what I need. I let myself believe I’m angry at a flaw in their character and not at the circumstances of the day.

I’m trying to think of other examples, but many seem forced. Still, the dichotomy is attractive. I’ll ponder more, and maybe add to this.

I have one last note for now. There is only a thin distinction between the two types. If I deny I have a crush on you because I don’t let myself notice how wonderful you are, that’s Stranger’s dishonesty. Once I let myself notice, any further denial is Rogue’s. I’ve chosen to maintain an indifferent facade; I’ve designed my false self.

It’s difficult to fault someone for Stranger’s dishonesty. We all get confused about who we are and what we’re doing. It’s easy to fault someone for Rogue’s dishonesty that causes harm; we must control ourselves and be transparent with people when it matters.

This system of fault complicates self-learning. It obligates us to disclose what we find out about ourselves. That’s scary.

Take care,
Ty (strange)