Why is it that in an era of incessant lying—one suspects The New York Times will soon dedicate a permanent obituary to the truth—we are seeing a renewed decay of lying? We have, it is true enough, all manners of liars on this campus: my friend tells a girl at F that he is a good kisser; the arts review section of The Davidsonian is always positive; the Deliberative Citizens Initiative pushes itself as an intellectual exercise rather than a résumé padder; the College says that it wants us to follow the Honor Code. We have, it is also true, no shortage of fine thinkers on this campus: Mav Smith fashions poetry out of a wonderful natural force with considerable skill; Sören Potthoff brings to his work a dazzling earnestness in the best tradition of American letters; I always look forward to what Stella Mackler has to say in her immaculate prose. The problem is that there is little overlap between the thinkers and the liars.

Perhaps some part of this resurgent decay is the frighteningly confessional culture we find ourselves in. The things that people—not even a half-century ago—would pay exorbitant amounts of money to conceal, they now jostle to show off on reality television. The book market is flooded with people’s dowdy sexual and/or violent fantasies and even the pursuers of serious literature veer dangerously towards autofiction. What one gleans from these memoirs and dating competitions and Instagram stories is that the lurid competition for attention-seeking-truth-telling only reveals how boring most of our lives are. “Be yourself,” the old adage goes, always omitting the second part, “but if you’re not interesting enough, please be somebody else.” Based on extensive experience, I provide some helpful examples of people who are not interesting enough: theists (mono- or otherwise); computer science majors; Swifties; study abroad returnees; people who believe psychology is a serious pursuit; most heterosexuals, bien entendu; most young poets; anybody who, under any circumstances, reads a self-help book.

Perhaps the other part of the decay is an impoverished foundation for honesty. Children’s natural talent for lying is killed off with simple-minded dismissal on the basis of content, rather than nurtured for the wonderful form it is. This might be less deleterious if they were given a good replacement, but the truth is erroneously conflated with dialogic compromise, vide DCI above. Plagiarism is decried not because of an appeal to excellence, but instead due to the predication of originality on the laughable notion of intellectual property (which, less laughably, has killed millions this century alone). The person thus produced shows an extreme silliness which is organic to the middle-aged, but becomes a tragedy when it strikes so young. If one is taught (in order to suppress lying) that lies are for personal gain, told to cover up misdeeds, and replacements for the truth, then, when one lies, one will lie in this manner. If one is to be this uninspired, to attempt to explain their lie, to lie as politicians do, then one might as well say what really happened. To lie well, one has to aspire to an excellence that is not already reflected in one’s life, to be sharp and witty and particular and inaccessible; one has to, in short, apply judgement.

What, then, constitutes a good lie? Fortunately for the aspiring liar, there are several different kinds. First, subreptive lying—lying at the level of facts in order to convey a more important truth. White lies often fall under this category, but they are its least interesting examples. Second, a lie conducted as conversation, a bit where everyone eventually knows what’s going on. I convince somebody that I am French, despite not speaking the language. My editor tells me that my piece will be funny and well-written, and that he is excited to read it. Third, the kind of lying that produces a style. This is self-explanatory. Fourth, those Wildean lies that constitute themselves for no purpose other than their existence. These are the rarest of all, because most lies that seem to belong to it at first glance are in fact motivated by something, be it something as minor as amusement, and so cease to be formal experiments. This is the essence of decadence, of degeneracy, of every vice that has added something new to the range of human experience.

So go forth and falsify! Say things that bewilder people. Don’t bore people with your actual life at parties. Exercise your imagination, and if it is any good share the results with me (if it is not, please refrain; I’ve had enough of that). Invent pseudonyms, and use them. Create new opportunities for the thrills of guilt and self-flagellation without the drudgery and hard work of actually sinning. Give up on begging for grades and give your assignments the formal stylisation they deserve. Cut your hair into bangs (a most innovative and visual form of lying). And remember to only tell the truth when doing so would disadvantage you.