I've just had several encounters with a youthful personage (not my own spawn) that have got me thinking on the subject of honesty. So, given that it's on the brain, here goes.
I'm a big advocate of honesty being the best policy. Sure, sometimes, there are situations in which it is best not to reveal the whole extent of the truth (i.e. telling young children how long they will be stuck in a car on a road trip; telling a squeamish child the intricacies of how their sausage was made; revealing too far in advance details of plans for something really fun that have a very real chance of getting canceled, etc.).
Then there are times when it is inappropriate. Unfortunately, adults have a bad habit of teaching children to lie. We do it from a very early time in a child's life, and unless a great deal of care is taken, kids will perpetuate this handy trick and expand upon it significantly, refining and polishing skills at falsehood until fibbing becomes a well-practiced art.
How do adults do this? Well, Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman actually discuss this is their book, NurtureShock. You can read their findings on the subject
here.
And I quote:
Kids lie early, often, and for all sorts of reasons—to avoid punishment, to bond with friends, to gain a sense of control. But now there’s a singular theory for one way this habit develops: They are just copying their parents.
So, indeed, we are teaching them by example. And moreover, we encourage the continuance by our own behaviors. I know some of you right now are reading this and thinking, "Bulldoody! (You know you thought that word.) I never do any such thing, and I'm an adult!" But, oh, think again!
Let me ask you (as one perhaps ought not to ask a child):
Do you ever ask a child things like: Did you take Ava's toy? Did you hit Jeremy? Did you draw all over the wall with crayons? Especially when you know darn well the child did in fact do those things?
How about this: If the child says yes to any of those questions, do you get angry? Do you yell? Is there a punishment?
Riddle me this, Batman: What incentive is there for the child to admit to doing wrong? What benefit does she gain by this questioning process? She's more likely to lose by it. Every time. Eventually, some fragile little part of one's precious little snowflake snaps, and the untruthful homunculus saunters out and spreads the seeds of dishonesty.
Bronson and Merryman claim that the studies they read indicated lying to be a measure of intelligence, in very young children.
Although we think of truthfulness as a young child’s paramount virtue, it turns out that lying is the more advanced skill. A child who is going to lie must recognize the truth, intellectually conceive of an alternate reality, and be able to convincingly sell that new reality to someone else. Therefore, lying demands both advanced cognitive development and social skills that honesty simply doesn’t require. “It’s a developmental milestone,” Talwar has concluded.
So, is it a good thing that we teach our children to lie to us? Should I be pleased that my not-quite-3-and-a-half year old son is getting quite adept at making up stories? [A recent favorite: "My grandfather is fierce! He used to make toothbrushes!" I suspect this one was related to a dream, as it came just after he woke from a reverie.] I want to encourage him to write stories of his own, but then am I encouraging him to blur the boundary between truth and fiction?
On the other hand, one of the books on my Amazon Wish List is
Already Ready: Nurturing Writers in Preschool and Kindergarten. Up until now, my thoughts regarding the suggestions of the authors revolved around whether or not the activity would impede or improve my son's progress toward learning and loving to read and write. The authors assert that children should write books and draw pictures associated with the "words", even before they know how to read and write or even know their letters. This is a similar notion to one in the Tools of the Mind classrooms, which assert that even such young children who scribble fake writing will remember what they "wrote" and can "read" it back to others. By using such methods, am I helping or hurting my child's honesty skills?
Having read NurtureShock when my son was very young, I made early attempts to curb behaviors of my own and my husband's that I thought would contribute to the development of untruthfulness. Truth has been a big issue with me for most of my life. I'm not perfect, though: I still fib often enough. But I try to avoid an outright lie as much as possible. When I see a friend's child whom I am expected to praise, and to my own eyes, the child isn't anything my eyeballs care to focus on, I will not exclaim over how insane beautiful said child is. I've seen people make absurdly effusive comments on the issue of beautiful babies when there is clearly no such element to the baby in question. Sure, it's better than saying, "Hey, um, are you sure you put the right end of the kid in the diaper?" But isn't it also possible to make comments other than on the beauty (or lack thereof) of a child? How about how sweet, adorable, happy, cheerful, fun, playful, calm, rambunctious, fiesty, gentle, bright-eyed, quick, observant, mobile, strong, or clever the child is?
Bronson and Merryman talk about these kinds of white lies as a way in which parents encourage their children to lie. Parents look on their efforts as teaching children to be polite. But aren't they really teaching insincerity? How about instead, we teach children to find the silver lining? Or to tactfully tell the truth?
I am reminded of a rant I wrote several years ago (April 2003) in a vent of frustration about Being Nice:
It’s difficult to live the life of a nice person. You have to be caring and considerate and cannot voice the thought “Fuck you!” when you are upset. You have to listen and be mild, patient and courteous, even if you don’t give a damn or aren’t really interested in the effects of what you’re told. Being nice involves time and requires some amount of dedication. It’s often a falsehood, a mask we don to maintain the illusion as a return favor for those who similarly appreciate how it makes the other feel to believe we are nice, yet sadly the rarity of veracity in nicety, a thing of scarcity, is of a quality that may cause one to believe in more amity than exists in reality.
Hooray, huzzah for nicety!
The end result of this analysis was that I discovered a very key distinction between being
nice and being
kind. Being kind is honest. It's genuine. Someone is kind because of something intrinsic to themselves. However, being nice...well, it's an affect. If you have to be nice, it means you are not already disposed to be kind. It means you prefer to do something else, but for the sake of making life easier in some regard (possibly by not offending someone), you do what is needed to
appear kind.
I read a lot of pre-20th Century fiction, and the word nice as it was used then is different from how it is used now. Niceness has
changed in meaning a great deal over time. Women were "nice" with their apparel being arranged just-so. Manners were "nice," and "disaffected" and "disinterestedness" were good things.
So, if one avoids being "nice" and aims to reduce punishments that reward the parents with dishonest children, what kinds of consequences result?
The average Pennsylvania teen was 244 percent more likely to lie than to protest a rule. In the families where there was less deception, however, there was a much higher ratio of arguing and complaining. The argument enabled the child to speak honestly. Certain types of fighting, despite the acrimony, were ultimately signs of respect—not of disrespect.
Hmm. The child will argue? Well, I guess that's something different.... But is it a bad thing? A worse thing?
Consider what it means for a child to argue: one, we already know the child is being open with the parent. There is a certain level of trust there. Two, teens are developing their reasoning skills. To argue with a parent or another adult is to practice this newly developed surge in logical deduction. Three, children of all ages learn by testing their boundaries. Does no always mean no? How about when your back is turned?
If the child is arguing about a rule or a decision, it really is a sign of respect that should not be ignored. Some parents get this far and then mess it up by throwing out an ultimatum like "Because I said so." Some others prefer to wade in vagueries and hope the child gives up the pursuit. This is not helping the child to understand the reasoning the parent is using, so if the teenager cannot comprehend a sufficient reason to follow the rule or decision,
he is far more likely to do what he wants anyway and try not to get caught.
From what I've read by those who have really studied the matters of parenting and child development, it seems like honesty with your children is the best policy. But only so much as they need. (For example, when your 5 year old child asks about things like sex, only answer the questions that are asked, and answer them honestly and briefly. No bees, flowers, gardens, or other confusing metaphors.) Ultimatums and waffles do not help develop your teenager's burgeoning rationality but rather fight against it. A child is much better protected against vice when she understands the reasons behind avoiding it. Because I Said So only teaches the child that she shouldn't do something because her dad is mean and won't let her, even though she
really wants to do it. And dad just "doesn't get it". It's like throwing a crowbar into a relationship and dividing things between the overbearing authoritarian parent who merely wants to be obeyed (and cannot understand how the world makes sense otherwise) and the child who merely wants to be granted some power in her own life, to be allowed to make mistakes and learn and grow (and can't understand why her authoritarian parents never listen to her).
A waffle parent that just avoids conflict and never gives any kind of response is just as bad, if not worse. "Maybe" that never turns to a solid answer, never gets explained, never gets discussed becomes a source of frustration for a teenager, and disincentivizes a child from even bothering to ask permission. "Well, mom is just going to ignore the question anyway, so I'll just do it and hope she doesn't get mad later." This leaves the kid floundering, drowning, with no spring board for rational development.
Open, honest communication about the reasons (or most of them) for a parental decision will help the child to understand early on in life that his parents do not just randomly decide things--that there is a basis behind the choices parents and other adults make and this basis is often very important. Understanding, too, that arguments do not have to be detrimental to a relationship, can go a long way. In Formal Logic, an argument is merely how a position is framed for asserting something. The child can bring an argument to his parents without it being a fight. A conversation may begin about whether or not the child can stay the night at a friend's house. Rather than say "Yes, because that's okay with me" or "No, because I said so" or "Maybe......", a discussion of the idea and its soundness could result. "Well, if Mason's parents didn't have to go into work on the weekends, I wouldn't have a problem with it. How about Mason staying over here instead?" or "Not this weekend, because we have other plans/haven't met Mason or his parents and would like to do that first." or "Yes, but I need to speak with his parents first to discuss the details and make sure everything is in order before making a final determination." Whatever the situation calls for.
Let's help our children become the best adults they can be by helping teach them by example. Let's demonstrate honesty as an effective policy. Let's establish trust between parent and child by not demanding that our children curb their own feelings. Let's avoid pushing our progeny into situations where they feel compelled to dishonest responses. Let's cherish the ability of our children to come up with solutions to problems and share them with us, without considering such an affront to our self-considered superiority. Let's remember that the end-game of parenting is to have a fully-functional adult come out of the process and provide the tools that will help such an adult evolve.
And let's be honest: we're not going to be perfect about it!
