By Kevin Hillier
We can’t and we don’t, at least not all the time. The truth is often avoided for politeness, self-preservation and convenience, including the answers to “Does my bum look big in this dress?”, “How is everything with the meal?” and “Do you want to see photos of my new baby/grandchild/pet?”
In sport, is there any bigger lie than when a club president says he or she backs the coach 100 per cent? That usually results in a sacking nanoseconds later.
Politics abounds with lies and mistruths, as the likes of Rudd, Gillard, Abbott and Turnbull will attest.
In court, you are sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth – a mantra we might have to bring to day-to-day life very soon, if we are capable of dealing with it. Are you brave enough to tell a friend about their body odour, bad breath, the love of their life or that that love is having an affair?
Real friends apparently tell – if you believe the movies and television reality shows. Funny, though, whenever I have seen this occur, the friendship lasts about as long as a prime ministership. What most friends do is not say anything and make sure they are there when it all falls apart. I am sure we have all had the experience when, after an emotional break-up, a friend or relative gleefully says, “I never liked him or her anyway”, thinking it will ease the pain. It doesn’t and we all know it, but we still do it.
We seem to live in a world where we increasingly find honesty at the touch of a keyboard. If we don’t like it, we can keep searching until we find the honesty we like the most. That is good for our self-esteem for a short period, but eventually we have to face the truth. Real friends are honest, they have to be, but they know timing is the difference between helping someone face reality or plummeting someone into a downward spiral. The truth is, we can handle the truth. We just need it cooked to our liking. ■
