Why People Lie

 Lying. A skill as old as humanity itself. Think about it—when was the first time you lied? Probably when you were a kid, caught red-handed with a cookie in your hand after being told it needed protection from your everlasting hunger. “I found them like this,” you whispered, the crumbs betraying you.

But why do we feel like we need to bend the truth? The answer isn’t as straightforward as “sometimes people are bad.” Lying is something our ancestors used to survive, and something the present generations use as a social lubricant.

It’s hardwired into our brains. Cavemen relied on deceptions and fake emotions to outmaneuver predators and gain advantages over rivals. Even today, you see it in the animal kingdom—a chameleon’s camouflage, a parrot’s mimicry, and swallows’ fake distress calls are all nature’s way of lying. Humans just evolved to take it to another level. A job interview? You’re extremely passionate about spreadsheets.

If lying’s really so bad, let’s imagine a world without lying. A world where every person was brutally honest. No sugarcoating, no white lies. Your friend asks, “How do I look in this outfit?” and instead of a usual, “You look great!” you respond with, “Did you find those clothes in 1987?” Human interaction would take a turn for the worse, with people have their feelings hurt left, right, and center. Lies keep things running smoothly. They help us navigate social situations without bumping into an obstacle. It’s not always malicious—sometimes, it’s just the price of getting along with people.

Then there are the lies of self-defense. The ones told to escape trouble, dodge blame, or maintain dignity. “The WiFi wasn’t working, that’s why I didn’t reply.” “I didn’t see your text.” “I totally read the terms and conditions.” Lies like these are tiny shields, protecting us from embarrassment, punishment, or just awkward conversations. These lies are not good, but what do we have if not our pride?

Not all lies are innocent. Some are weapons. Some are tools for control. History is littered with grand deceptions—politicians spinning narratives, corporations hiding scandals, dictators rewriting history. When the truth is inconvenient, a well-crafted lie is often the easier alternative.

Despite its usefulness, lying comes with a price. A web of lies is just that—a web. The more you make, the harder it becomes to break free. You get trapped in it. Lies are high maintenance. Forget one, and everything crumbles. And when it’s exposed, trust is shattered. People don’t remember the “why” behind the lie, just that they were deceived.

The biggest irony? People lie to avoid consequences, but often, the lie itself leads to even worse consequences. A bad decision can be forgiven. A lie? Not so much.