My friend’s six-year-old has told me some pretty outlandish falsehoods. From falling down an elevator shaft and landing on both feet, to having magic fairy powers. On such occasions a simple probe, “Is that really true?” is enough to solicit honesty.
The lies of small children, of course, are not born of malice. Rather, from an intelligence which has not yet been trained to distinguish the real from the imagined. Up to a point, this serves a creative function and is excused by the innocence of childhood (hello, Santa).
During these years, however, we must also learn boundaries if we are to be adequately prepared for adulthood. Consider Carlo Collodi’s The Adventures of Pinocchio (1883). In Pinocchio, you may recall, there are times when the puppet, carved by Geppetto, dreams of becoming a “real” boy. Pinocchio also lies.
Oftentimes these are understandable lies: like when he is scared or indulging childish fantasies. Nevertheless, a fairy warns him: “Lies, my dear boy, can easily be recognized. There are two kind of them: those with short legs, and those with long noses. Your kind have long noses.” And so, in every instance he utters a falsehood, a brutal intrusion of a material reality follows. One that is humiliatingly visible to others.
Whether we concede it or not, the same rules apply in adulthood. They also apply to Emile Ratelband, a 69-year-old Dutch “positivity guru” and self-described “young god” who fancies himself as a 49-year-old. Pointing to the example of gender identity, Ratelband believes his new age better reflects his emotional and physical constitution and would like to change his birth certificate. (He is correct that this logic is now widespread.) Ratelband’s lawyer says it comes down to “free will”. Is that so?
I’m a real 49-year-old. *Cue extending nose.*