Lying and Fibbing

I am known to friends, family, and even my students, as someone who plays a bit fast and loose with the facts; that’s fine by me. I’m a philosopher; I’m more interested in the ways things could be than the way they are.

That said, my tradition tells me that I should be a lover of and searcher after the truth. Sure, I say, as long as—in keeping with another tradition, this one passed down to me from my mom—it doesn’t get in the way of a good story.

For this reason, (as well as to justify what others might construe as questionable behavior), I have long maintained a distinction between lying and fibbing. The former is where you intentionally deceive someone for your own self-interest; the latter is where you simply get them to believe something that might not exactly accord with exactly the way the world is (or was) and do so out of affection for them, or because it’s easier, or just to inject a bit of style or humor or light drama into the equation.

So, for instance, if you tell your kid that you’re going to take her skiing tomorrow without any intention whatsoever of doing so, that’s a lie. On the other hand, if you explain to her that in order to go skiing, there’s got to be at least a foot of fresh powder, that’s more of a fib.

Among the main differences between a lie and a fib is that when you lie, you’re ashamed to caught. When you fib, you could hardly care less; in fact, you pretty much expect to be found out, and in fact, you’re sort of amazed that anyone believed you in the first place.

Another example: if I tell my students on Tuesday, I’ll have their papers graded by Thursday, that’s a lie; if I promise them I’ll get them back after I work on them over the weekend, that’s a fib.