September 29, 2007

• Fealty to the Truth

  How deep does your fealty to the truth run?  How deep should it run?  

  By
  fealty I mean your inclination to tell the truth, share the truth,
  believe in the truth, seek the truth, and demand the truth? In other
  words to what extent to do you think that the truth is sort of
  independently important, independently invaluable and that nothing not
  even the happiness and welfare of yourself or others should stand in
  the way of that truth?

  Because for all we talk about how
  important the truth is, I think a lot of us a lot of the time don’t
  think too highly if it. We tend to think of the truth as situational.
  Tell the truth when it matters or when it will help. Or we think of the
  truth as a kind of tool to be wielded to gain some advantage or achieve
  some ends.  Or we think of the truth as a kind of ‘owned’ thing, that
  is one truth is your truth and another truth is my truth and nobody
  should impinge upon my truth soiling it with their own.  In all cases,
  the truth lacks inherent significance. It’s a subjective thing bound to
  your will and your reason and can be discarded with a moment’s notice
  if needed or never aired at all.

  As for me, I used to be
  pretty nonchalant about the truth. I never thought of myself as very
  subservient to it. I never felt as if it had any great inherent power. 
  When I was very young I was a flat out liar.  It’s true. Like I was six
  or seven and I would lie through my teeth and the funny thing is, I
  don’t think anybody even really realized it. I almost always got away
  with it. It’s a little funny today but back then I felt a little bad
  about it.  I never enjoyed lying, I just did it anyway.

  Some
  examples perhaps are in order. When I was in elementary school we would
  get these field trip permission slips and they’d give them straight to
  the students to take home to their parents to have them signed. Back in
  those days the teachers more or less trusted the children to do that. I
  think it’s crazy to put that responsibility on the student solely in
  retrospect but I guess it was a good way to try to teach kids
  responsibility and it more or less worked back in those days.  Now’a'days
  I think permission slip lack of return is a big deal and schools come
  up with all kinds of involved systems to ensure that the slips get to
  the parents and get returned in time.

  Well, I was one of the
  only students who actually forgot to give my parents my permission
  slip. I just literally forgot. I would stuff it in the bottom of my bookbag
  and totally forget about and I wouldn’t ever be able to find it again. 
  Even if the teacher reminded us every day to give it to our parents I
  just would never get around to do it. I don’t know what was so
  preoccupying my mind in those days that I couldn’t remember such a
  simple thing as to give my parents a slip of paper. It certainly isn’t
  like they would have any problem signing it or paying for the trip or
  whatever. I just didn’t give them the slip of paper. I was always
  somewhat absent minded.

  Anyway the last day when the permission
  slips were do would come and that morning I’d realize it. “Oh no” I’d
  think (back then I didn’t curse). And the first time I think this
  happened I think I just admitted it and felt really bad about it being
  the only student in class who didn’t have a signed permission slip and
  the teacher had to jump through all these hoops calling my parents up
  and whatnot in order to get me permission to go. But the next time it
  happened. I said no way I’m going through that again.  I reasoned that
  my parents would never say *no* to my having permission to go on such a
  trip so the whole slip thing was just a waste of everyone’s
  time.  Why should I in fact waste my parents time making them sign this
  sheet of paper? Why should I waste my teachers time telling them that I
  never did make them sign it and now she has to call my parents? This
  was just silly to me. 

  So I forged my parents signature.  

  This
  is pretty amazing to me now to think back on it since my handwriting
  has and has always sucked. But I found a copy of my parents signature
  somewhere and I just very slowly and carefully made a duplicate of
  exactly what I saw. 

  To my utter shock, it worked! Of course
  having done it successfully once I just had to do it again. And again.
  I only got caught once. I rushed and the signature I wrote didn’t look
  authentic and the teacher called me up and said something all knowingly
  as if it was so obvious that I had forged my signature an she was so
  smart to have caught it. Lol,
  of course I’d already gotten away with at least two forged signatures
  with that teacher in the past.  Anyway, I lied my way out of it. I
  pretended it was the only time and that I had lost the form and felt
  bad about it and I guess I looked all pitiful or something but the
  teacher never did tell my parents about it. So to this day, my parents
  probably don’t know about my early life of of counterfeiting unless
  they are reading this blog right now which is unlikely since I’ve never
  told them about it.

  Anyway, that was hardly the only example of
  my lying exploits. I was really good at getting out of school too. I
  could pretend to be sick effectively enough to get out of school.
  Actually I got lucky in that I was a person who never felt really bad
  when I was sick so a few times early in my life I was sick and went
  right on to school without thinking about it and I’d end up getting
  sent to the nurse’s office and sent home because I have an insanely
  high temperature all the while I protested that I was fine.  Anyway,
  this left an impression on people, so they tried to tell me that if I
  was ever feeling sick I should say something and not just go on to
  school anyway.

  Haha,
  bingo. That meant that I could just pretend to be sick and everybody
  would believe me. Any day I didn’t feel like going to school I’d tell
  people I was sick and even though I didn’t particularly look sick
  they’d believe me because they’d remember the last time when I didn’t
  ‘look’ sick. Sometimes I had to do a little trickery if they tried to
  take my temperature or something to ensure that it registered high, but
  that was easy enough. Then I’d just need to make sure I stayed in bed
  all day, preferably for a couple of days. And bam just like that no school for me.

  Actually
  in retrospect I’m sure some of those times my parents saw through my
  deception. I think though that they knew that I was having a hard time
  with school with bullies and whatnot or maybe they just suspected that
  there was something or other bothering me about my school life so I
  think they were ok
  with me just taking a day off because I was sick of it.  It isn’t like
  they ever imagined I would have a hard time keeping up because of it. I
  was way to smart for that and everybody knew it. I probably knew it the
  least back then because I didn’t play hooky that much because I was a
  little afraid of falling behind.

  As I got older though I found
  ways to sneak out of school that were a lot more clever and a lot more
  deceptive and which my parents never found out about. Sometimes though
  I would just get shocked at how easy it was.  Sometimes it was just a
  matter of coming up with some sort of believable excuse for the people
  at school and I would just say like “go ahead and call my parents” and
  usually I wouldn’t even have to say that. I was always the good student
  so everybody believed me. Everybody thought I wouldn’t lie. It’s crazy
  in retrospect. Why did they think because I was good at math and
  writing that I was incapable of lying?  They had some stereotypes that
  the students that lie and cut class are the ones who are loud and
  obnoxious and get poor grades or have unstable family lives or
  something.  They didn’t realize that I was lying and cutting class just
  for the shear challenge of it. I thought it was fun. And in contrast I
  thought school was mostly a waste of my time. Man I was arrogant.

  It’s
  not just lying and cutting class too. I was a accomplished liar in all
  kinds of things. I lied. I stole. I cheated. Not on tests because I
  never had to, and I didn’t think I’d be able to talk myself out of it
  if I got caught. Wait, that’s not true. I cheated on one test too. I
  used my calculator. But that was just such an obvious cheat I couldn’t
  help myself. To this day I believe half the class was probably doing
  the same thing. The teacher had to know it too. Why allow us a graphing
  calculator when the math doesn’t get beyond basic multiplication?
  That’s crazy. I also engaged pretty heavily in the ‘homework’ copying
  trade that became a vibrant market in some of my classes. Although I
  was more often to be the provider than the user, I used it a few times
  myself and whereas others would sometimes get caught for having copied
  I always made sufficient changes to make my work look uniquely my own.
  Even when I provided my work to others, I always had two copies, one to
  turn in and one to let others copy, unless it was a class where I was
  sure the teacher wouldn’t bother to check.

  Sure, in all of this craziness,
  I did get caught sometimes but I was somehow able to shake off blame
  and it was weird too because I wouldn’t even be trying. I think I
  always expected people to catch me and start yelling at me and punish
  me severely just like everybody else gets punished, but it always
  seemed like each time I was caught they’d always assume it was my one
  and only lapse as if I was just usually a good student but for some
  reason or another something terrible was happening in my life and I
  felt the need to act out. Some garbage like that must have been what
  they were thinking.  There was a much more likely explanation though if
  they thought about it though. It’s just that I was bored. 

  It’s
  funny though that the only times I ever got punished were for things I
  didn’t do. Like I’d get detention with a group of students because
  ‘they’ were talking out in class and I happened to be sitting there
  with them. Ridiculous stuff like that. Only like when there was a
  substitute teacher would something like that happen though. The real
  teachers knew. “Nephyo would never do anything like that.”, “It couldn’t be Nephyo talking out in class like that.”  Haha. It was so funny.

  And
  the substitute teachers were the best to get one over on too. Whenever
  there was a substitute I’d be able to get out of most of my work. Some
  of the regular teachers probably saw through me to some extent over
  time, at least the ones I liked did. But the substitutes never had a
  chance.

  Now when there were substitutes there were always
  students trying to make their lives a living hell and I hated that. I
  wasn’t trying to be disruptive like they were. In fact sometimes I’d
  try to do what I could to mitigate their behavior, if they were
  students I got along with well enough and not kids I was afraid of or
  kids I didn’t care about.  Anyway, I didn’t want to cause any trouble.
  I just didn’t want to do any work. So I didn’t.

  Here’s one funny
  story about that, there was this substitute teacher who passed out this
  reading material and we had to read it all and answer some multiple
  choice questions on some work sheet that everybody knew he wasn’t going
  to grade then we could have time to do what we wanted. The teacher
  figured it was so long it would take us all period. Basically this busy
  work was just to keep us shutup
  and even then I thought it was so stupid it made my head ache. The
  stuff we were reading didn’t have anything to do with the rest of the
  curriculum in that class. Threefourths of the questions you could
  answer without having read a single word of the text.  Anyway, I read
  for about ten minutes, maybe less, quickly bubbled in some answers and
  then I raised my hand and said that I was done.  The teacher
  incredulously said “You can’t possibly be done in such a short time.”
  But then the whole class came to my defense. “Yeah, that’s Nephyo.” “He can do it.” “Of course Nephyo
  could read it.” I was already known as an avid reader, but no. I don’t
  read that fast. The book was too long for anyone not trained in speed
  reading to finish in that time frame. Most would not finish in the
  entire class. That’s why the worksheet wasn’t even due until the next
  day when the regular teacher would be back and would surely just throw
  it away if he even bothered to collect it (he didn’t).  But the idea of
  me was so great that the entire class wanted to back me up. They wanted
  to think of me as the person who can read that book in ten minutes
  flat. And really what was the teacher going to say? He was a
  substitute. He didn’t know any of us. The funny truth is the teacher
  probably hadn’t read it himself so he couldn’t quiz me on it.  Yes, of
  course I’d barely read a word of it.  So I did whatever I wanted. Free
  period.

  That one made me feel bad afterwards though. I felt as
  if I had not just lied to the teacher but to the entire class. Worse I
  felt I’d used them to gain something for me without giving them
  anything in return. To be sure some of the smarter students in the
  class knew I was full of shit (maybe everybody did I don’t know). But
  it should be no surprise that a number of them also ‘finished’
  remarkably quickly. But they were smart enough not to push it nearly as
  far as I did. They knew that having two or more speed readers in a
  class was remarkably unlikely. Although I remembering wishing them
  would and I was imagining coming up with a story to try and defend them
  like lying about some sort of speed reading lessons we had after school
  or some B.S. like that. He was a substitute. It probably wouldn’t have
  flown but I would have given it a shot. Alas, the other students didn’t
  think it was worth the risk.

  And that’s just it really. Was that
  lie somehow inherently bad? Were all those lies back then? Did I hurt
  myself by being so deceptive? Did I lose something?

  I find that
  as I grow older I become much more truthful sometimes to a fault.
  Whereas before I would just hold the truth in, fail to say things, or
  even substitute a lie for the truth where it was expedient, now I just
  tend to blurt out the truth. I tell me people everything I am thinking
  all that I believe sometimes much more than they want or need to hear.
  And I cause trouble with this. But more and more I do it anyway.

  I’m
  still not *that* honest, in the grand scheme of things. I’m still a
  pretty quiet person unlikely to volunteer anything, but I am changing.
  And the reason for that change does not appear to be altruistic.  I
  don’t think I’ve become a person who believes in the truth’s inherent
  goodness. I don’t think I’ve really developed a sense of fealty to the
  truth at all. Rather I think that as I get older the boredom of my
  youth has transferred into impatience with the world around me. I tell
  the truth now because information seems to transmit too dang slowly
  when I observe how people hide and peep around the truth, trying to say
  just enough of the truth or to say the truth in just the right way as
  to be to their greatest benefit or to prevent hurting someone. I hate
  that.  It’s not that I mind trying to keep your words from hurting
  people but it’s just so dang slow. Understanding comes so slowly to
  people when they play games with the truth. It just seems so much
  easier to me to just put everything out there on the table all at once
  and then sort everything out. That’s the kind of honesty I’ve developed
  now. I’ve changed from my lying days of youth to the guy who gets on everybody’s nerves because he keeps airing everybody’s business.

  I’m
  not a big fan of this change in myself. I feel truly that if I am to be
  an honest person it should be because I really believe in the power and
  efficacy of the truth. I should feel that knowing and sharing the truth
  is fundamentally good no matter the consequences. I shouldn’t just be
  honest because I’m too impatient to deal with lies and half-truths that
  become so common in regular discourse.

  Actually I suspect though
  that I am going to become even more forthright and brutally honest as I
  grow older. Why? Genetics. My grandmothers on both sides were renowned
  for being the kinds of people who “tell it like it is”. They were
  always direct and to the point and didn’t ever seem to ever feel any
  kind of reservations about telling the truth to anybody and everybody
  who crossed their path.  My Mom also as she grows older seems to become
  more and more direct. She’s never been a person who was unwilling to
  tell the truth but more and more she volunteers the truth whether asked
  or not. And she doesn’t seem inclined to spare anybodies feelings as
  much any more. And as for my Dad. I don’t think I’ve ever observed him
  in a single dissembling act. Not once have I noticed him lie. He does
  hold back a lot more but it’s more because he pauses to find the right
  wording for something before telling people what they don’t want to
  hear. Not the nicer wording. The truer wording. That’s the way he is.

  But
  it would be really strange for me to become this way if I don’t
  fundamentally believe that the truth is good. I mean if I start to
  treat people like that but deep down inside I actually don’t think the
  truth matters that much wouldn’t that make me a kind of a hypocrite? It
  would mean that I am only trying to further the truth because it is
  convenient to me, because it fits with my own aesthetic vision for the
  way the world should be or because it makes me happier to know that
  others know the truth regardless of whether or to what extent it hurts
  them. 

  If that’s the way I become then I won’t be a person who
  has a sense of fealty to the truth. Rather I’m more like the traitorous
  spy within the truth’s organization using its tools for my own gain. So
  the question is can I become truly loyal to the truth? To do that I’d
  have to believe that the truth is fundamentally good of its own right.
  Right now I just believe it and I don’t know if I ever will.

  • 12:04 am
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