What Is Lying and Is It Necessary?
In my line of work, I often interact with people and, as a result, encounter human lies. People try to hide information to appear better in the eyes of others, gain material benefits, avoid punishment, and so on. As a specialist, I don’t judge lying as “good” or “bad.” For me, it’s simply a phenomenon of concealed information—nothing more, nothing less. Lying is an evolutionary mechanism that has helped us survive, and for some who excel at it, it helps them live at a high level. I’m not encouraging anyone to lie; in fact, the longer you work as a polygraph examiner, the more you value sincerity. It may not always be bright or exactly what we want to hear, but it’s real, and that makes you real too.
As sad as it may sound, people will continue to lie when it benefits them. But what if someone lies not just for gain, but habitually, so often that it becomes hard to tell what’s real and what’s not? This is pathological lying.
What Is Pathological Lying?
Wikipedia defines pathological lying as a tendency to provide false information and invent fantastic stories, usually driven by a desire to attract attention and prove one’s significance. As a psychologist by training, I agree with this. Interestingly, the definition also notes that pathological liars may be aware they’re lying, or they may believe they’re telling the truth. Some psychologists think pathological liars differ from ordinary liars in that they are convinced of their own truth and fully inhabit their roles. While not everyone agrees with this interpretation, most agree that pathological lying is a unique mental state. Although the term “pathological liar” isn’t used in clinical diagnosis, most psychiatrists believe this personality type is either the result of a mental disorder or low self-esteem.
This raises questions. We all have our own reality strategies and criteria for distinguishing what really happened from what was imagined, dreamed, or simply unfulfilled plans. So, I started looking for answers in scientific communities. Here’s what I found.
Does Brain Anatomy Matter?
It turns out that anatomical features of the brain, formed in the final stages of fetal development, determine a person’s ability to separate real events from imagined ones. Researchers at the University of Cambridge (UK) discovered a structural feature of the cerebral cortex—the paracingulate sulcus—that helps our memory distinguish between what actually happened and what didn’t. This sulcus forms late in fetal development, and variations in brain structure are common. About half of all people have unique features related to the late formation of certain grooves and folds in the cortex.
These differences can be significant but are generally within normal limits. The presence or absence of certain grooves affects higher nervous system activity, but not in a pathological way. For example, some people can recall events in detail, while others mix in imagined words and actions attributed to participants. To study this, neurophysiologists conducted an experiment with 53 healthy volunteers of similar educational backgrounds.
The experiment involved listening to well-known word pairs (like “black and white,” “man and woman”). After learning the pairs, participants were asked to imagine the second word when hearing the first. Later, some second words were spoken by the researchers, while others had to be recalled by the participants. After some time, participants were tested to see if they remembered what they had imagined and said themselves versus what they had heard from the researchers.
People without the paracingulate sulcus in their cortex tended to mix up what they had imagined with what they had actually heard. If the sulcus was present in at least one hemisphere, their memory was much clearer. The full study is published in the Journal of Neuroscience.
Interestingly, participants who couldn’t distinguish real from imagined events didn’t complain about their memory—they thought it was just fine. So, it’s possible to justify pathological liars by saying it’s all due to brain structure.
Are All Pathological Liars “Sick Liars”?
Not necessarily. I once consulted someone who lied not every day, but almost every other day, simply out of habit. This person was so used to not worrying about the difference between truth and lies that it was easier to say whatever came to mind than to explain things. This pattern was learned from their parents. The client never had a brain scan to check for the paracingulate sulcus, but I know for sure they could tell the difference between fiction and reality. The real issue was the desire to learn to communicate sincerely—what I call “for real.” This requires learning to communicate well, being mindful of what you say and why, not being lazy about explaining yourself, not being afraid to admit things, and more. It’s hard work, because it’s much easier to keep lying to achieve your goals.
Pathological Lying in Psychopathy
Another extreme is pathological lying in psychopathy. These people also know the difference between reality and fiction, but their brains are different. Their neocortex works differently, and the part of the brain responsible for emotions—the limbic system—is barely engaged. They know what conscience, duty, honor, love, and friendship are only in words, not in feelings. As a result, it’s easy for them to deceive or hurt others. Ordinary people can empathize because they’ve felt pain, sadness, or worry themselves. Psychopaths have never experienced this, except for physical pain. The only emotion they might feel is fear for their own life in certain situations.
What’s the Takeaway?
No matter the reasons for distorting information, it’s something we can’t avoid. While working at the Academy, I was asked to create a course about children and lying. As I prepared, I studied the literature and observed my own child. My daughter Yaroslav is only four, and she’s already learning to use lying as a way to communicate. On one hand, lying in children signals intellectual development. On the other, as a mother, I was concerned about why my child was trying to deceive me. As any psychologist knows, if you want to understand a child’s problem, look at the parent. So, I started watching myself.
One weekend morning, our whole family sat down for breakfast. By the end of the 40-minute meal, I counted eight times when we (myself and other adults) lied, distorted, or embellished something. These were minor things—sometimes we were too lazy to explain something to the child, didn’t want to open up, or wanted to hide unpleasant moments. After breakfast, we discussed it, and my concerns about Yaroslav disappeared. I just started watching myself more closely.
Often, we don’t see lies because we don’t want to, but that doesn’t excuse those who use them. Those who know us well understand that we never perceive information in its pure form—people always distort it, and with every added lie, the “realness” of a person fades away. What could be sadder? People have spent so long studying the world, nature, and themselves, but the further research goes, the more we distort. Sometimes, it’s like a dog chasing its own tail.