Can You Tell When Someone's Lying?
Take a deep look in their eyes. Are they full of shit?
Table of Contents
This is Part 3 of a four-part series on Everyday Deception. Check out the rest:
Have you ever thought someone was lying based on a weird reaction? Like a crack in their voice? Or lack of eye contact when you probed for details? It’s a strange feeling catching a liar that way. Like finishing a puzzle you didn’t even mean to start.
It all makes you wonder… “How the hell did I know that?”
Pretty cool until you’re the one in the hot seat sounding awfully suspicious over an ill-timed cough. That’s when you realize how silly it can be to inflate the importance of one little detail. And yet the devil as they say is in the details. This is what makes “truth” enormously difficult to prove in everyday life and criminally easy to manipulate in a courtroom. The human mind loves a good story — and well-constructed lies are built on one.
Lying and negotiation
One of the most terrifying parts of reading sociology books in tandem with evolutionary biology is the questions they raise about the justice system, particularly the processes we rely on for determining who’s innocent and who’s guilty.
Lawyers talk a big game about “evidence” and “facts” but when there’s a jury involved, you can bet there’ll be grand emotional narratives fit for a soap opera. When you’re working within the constraints of society, the truth alone cannot set you free. Like all meaning-making activities, truth relies on the process of negotiation.
And boy, do we negotiate…
From social identity and gender roles to personal boundaries and salary, almost everything is up for negotiation. Even personal qualities. You wouldn’t call someone “funny” just because they made you laugh. You’d do it if everything outside of the joke also matched up to your perception of “a funny person.” In other words, both actor and audience need a working consensus of a situation for it to produce an effect. Sociologist and author of the canonical work The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, Erving Goffman explains:
“Each participant is expected to suppress his immediate heartfelt feelings, conveying a view of the situation which he feels the others will be able to find at least temporarily acceptable. The maintenance of this surface of agreement, this veneer of consensus, is facilitated by each participant concealing his own wants behind statements which assert values to which everyone present is likely to give lip-service.”
When the negotiation is mutually beneficial, as is normally the case, the person making the joke is granted the honor of “being funny” while the one laughing is granted the intelligence of discerning “good humor”. It’s not demanding, it’s not necessarily truthful — but it’s reciprocal, consensual, and in ideal circumstances, a win-win situation.
You can just as easily challenge “the truth” of a situation by resisting the invitation to act in a called-upon manner.
For instance, if you heard an inappropriate joke at work, you might refrain from laughing or give in to peer pressure. This is why great comedians are exceptional at building trust. You’re more likely to elicit a desired reaction by establishing good intent.
Lying and self-interest
So you think you have a good BS detector? You’re not alone. Audience skepticism is a real thing, and Goffman notes we’re naturally inclined to doubt someone’s genuineness due to our own tendency to lie and pretend when needed. That’s why lawyers often engage in perspective-taking exercises to better understand and predict emotional responses. Like all actors, they rely on a good story.
Yet it’s not just the story we validate, but the person telling it.
Do you believe they are who they say they are? Do they deserve to be forgiven, ridiculed, destroyed? Should it be up to TikTokers or 12 Angry Men to decide? At the end of the day, truth is negotiable. We know this because, on some level, we all conform to a narrative we know is bullshit. Inflated job titles. Performance reviews. The idea that HR is there to protect you, not the company. But we go along with it anyway because we hope to gain something from this exchange. A professional identity. A sense of purpose. Validation from peers. Dental benefits.
Even though it seems like we’re always negotiating with someone on the outside, we’re really just negotiating with ourselves for the purposes of survival. Should I trust this person? Is this worth fighting for? Is this working in my best interests? What’s in it for me?
As much as we’d like to believe in our commitment to the truth, we’re all trying to survive the only way we know how. Sometimes that means drinking the Kool-Aid.
Negotiation and control
“A quick lesson in lying. See, this is what us real cops do: We study liars. Example: If I ask you a question about something visual, like your favorite color, your eyes go up and to the left. Neurophysiology tells us your eyes go in that direction, because you’re accessing the visual cortex. So you’re telling the truth. If your eyes go up and right, you’re accessing the brain’s creative centers and we know you’re full of shit.” (The Negotiator, 1998)
Perspective-taking exercises are so critical to negotiation that real estate agents are advised to spend four hours preparing for every one hour of negotiation. How do you convince someone you’re on their side when they know you’ll be making a huge commission? It’s a tall order. And it’s the same reason why some lawyers play Dungeons & Dragons in order to improve their form in the courtroom.
Although well-told lies can involve cold calculating cynicism, they can just as easily stem from inward belief in one’s own act. We lie to ourselves so we can better lie to others. Evolutionary biologist and author of The Folly of Fools Robert Trivers explains:
“To fool others, we may be tempted to reorganize information internally in all sorts of improbable ways and to do so largely unconsciously.”
Other times, skilled communication is more about creating a sense of trust in order to carry out a calculated exchange. We see this in the 1998 film The Negotiator, where two hostage negotiators come face-to-face after one of them is falsely accused of embezzling money from the police department. Of course, real-life hostage negotiation is a little less Hollywood. So what happens if you’re dealing with a sophisticated adversary who understands how the game is played? How do you build a bridge toward compliance? Here’s how former FBI agent Chris Voss explains it:
Bickering couples, take note.
Real life vs reality TV
Many body language experts will tell you there are fool-proof ways to catch a liar. But this can be deceptive in its own right. The reliability of lie detectors and polygraph tests has long been challenged and blamed for creating a false sense of security. So it’s no surprise when so-called “tells” turn out to be dubious. In his book, Robert Trivers reminds us:
“Nervousness is almost universally cited as a factor associated with deception, both by those trying to detect it as well as by those trying to avoid it, yet surprisingly enough, it is one of the weaker factors in predicting deception in scientific work. […] The most recent work shows that there is by no means always a delay prior to lying. It depends on the kind of lie. Denial is apt to be quicker than the truth, and so are well-rehearsed lies. ”
Finally someone said it. As tempting as it is to read into isolated behaviors, focusing solely on hesitation or lack of eye contact is a bad idea. As anyone with extreme social anxiety will tell you, nervousness is my some people’s default position. We’re socially awkward not because we’re guilty of something, but because we’re too busy calculating the infinite ways in which we might embarrass ourselves (as we often do). It’s bad enough some of us have to live like this, we don’t need another reason to self-scrutinize, for fuck’s sake.
Not only do “gotcha!” tactics oversimply human behavior, they also condition us to diminish the importance of what we say relative to how we say it. Meanwhile the real culprit gets away by exuding a kind of charismatic confidence we typically associate with “winners”. Safe to say, generalized patterns of deceit are not conclusive evidence of guilt, though I’ll concede it makes for excellent drama…
We see this kind of superficial read resulting in baseless accusations, suspicion, and betrayal in The Traitors, a murder mystery-style reality show where a bunch of “Faithfuls” try to suss out a handful of “Traitors” among them. Lies, bad acting, and backstabbing ensue in the grand Scottish castle where contestants forge fake friendships and concoct conspiracies under the watchful, snarky eye of the fabulously-dressed Alan Cumming.
How do glaringly obvious suspects get through each roundtable undetected? The same way politicians get through heated congressional hearings. Through calculated rhetoric, distortion of facts, strategic alliances, artful distraction, emotional manipulation, and good ol’ fashioned luck.
Blurred lines
Of course, reality TV as a category intentionally plays with the real and the fake to keep audiences titillated by the almost-there climax of everyday drama. We see the same psychological eroticism in content that toys with the court of public opinion, blurring the line between truth and lies using “so-bad-it’s-good” entertainment, similar to badly-acted soap operas.
The same way distance can be manipulated to generate awe and mystique, so can it help generate the illusion of closeness. This is demystification for the purposes of appearing more relatable, accessible, and “real”.
Nowhere is this more evident than political theater, where overexposure to a public figure in scripted “backstage settings” blurs the line between reality and illusion. It’s the same reason appearing on long-form podcasts is effective in cultivating political relevance, all while creating a false sense of transparency. Is this news or entertainment? A real conversation or a bit? You wouldn’t know because the backstage, as we know it, is going extinct.
What’s more interesting is the public’s love-hate relationship with this seemingly larger-than-life spectacle, best described by one Canadian as: “A train-wreck … I can’t stop watching.” This is what happens when you add Jerry Springer’s shock value to a Wrestlemania-sized political storyline: novelty and fandom for an emotionally charged audience. Throw in polarizing rhetoric, flashy costumes, hysteria, and props into the mix and now you’re testing the limits of what the general public is willing to accept as entertainment and political history in-the-making.
But this isn’t just entertainment for entertainment’s sake. Some argue it’s a political strategy that taps into the nostalgia of the working class hero. Writer Daniel Kennedy notes:
“While wrestling programs of all levels exist in various parts of the country, wrestling is largely associated with rural America. The urban-rural divide has continued to widen since Trump first entered the political arena. Many rural voters have voiced feelings of being unseen – or, if seen, of being scorned – by the political elite. Trump’s policies do not improve life for most of his rural constituents – quite the opposite. Nonetheless, to these voters, Trump routinely says, I see you.”
And so far it’s worked. Twice.
Of course, it doesn’t help that left-wing politics has had its fair share of badly-penned PR scripts and cringeworthy slogans that inadvertently insult the intelligence of those willing to suspend their disbelief. Compare the chest-thumping finger-pointing “Sleepy Joe” Trumpisms with the measured but contrived “I-worked-at-McDonalds” rhetoric of the opposition, and you’ll find fundamental differences not only in script but also in theatrical appeals to class-coded behavior.
The actor's paradox
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Despite the inherently theatrical nature of elections, lobbies, and political campaigns, all politicians lean on the same acting playbook to elicit different emotional responses. Yet there’s something about the paradox of “the staged but real” that makes an actor more fascinating to watch. Is the wrestler really getting hurt? Is the actor really feeling those emotions? Is the AI really sympathetic to your need for companionship?
Where does the actor end and the character begin? It’s the dilemma film and theater workers continually face in service of the art. As Al Pacino says at one point in his memoir Sonny Boy:
“The thing about acting is, you don’t really do it and yet it’s real. That’s the phenomenon. That’s the paradox. We actors have to go through it to find it in ourselves, so we can paint it.”
Unlike film and theater, however, reality TV-style entertainment deprives performers of the chance to reflect and introspect in a typical backstage setting. When you’re working in an industry that’s not entirely real nor entirely staged, it fundamentally changes the way you orient yourself on and off camera. Especially when the show must go on… all the time.
What happens when the script implores you to be a villain in this environment?
No one knows how to play a heel in business better than owner and former Chairman of WWE, Vince McMahon, who became known in the ring as the despicable tyrant ruling over a lawless entertainment empire. Mr. McMahon instantly became a classic “love-to-hate” villain who abused his power, bullied his employees, and become one of two public figures in the world to be known and beloved for the catchphrase: “You’re Fired!”
“My name is not Vince. My name is Mr. McMahon.”
How much of the character was really Vince McMahon and how much of it was pure fiction designed for mass consumption? Here’s how he put it:
“When you’re committing to a character, as I said before, you have to really get in. So you have to want people to really dislike you. I mean, you want people to honestly, really dislike you. I guess maybe it’s pretty easy for me to do sometimes. But when you are really into that character, you think of things that motivate people and when you — even lying from a standpoint, it’s like, people think I was lying when I said, ‘you don’t lie? Really, you? You don’t lie sometimes?’ You know, it’s like, come on; any number of lies you tell every day, little ones, sometimes they’re big ones and what have you, but nonetheless, it’s like things and topics like that, that people can relate and be able to mash the emotional buttons and to get a reaction like that. Man, that is a thrill.”
Even more thrilling when you can blur that line to the point of obscurity. In February 2024, The Wall Street Journal reported that McMahon was under federal investigation for sex trafficking allegations. He was later accused of “countless depraved and humiliating acts” including, among other things, allowing the sexual exploitation of young boys.
Did he bleed into his depraved character or did the character unlock deep-seated depravities within him? Perhaps the same could be asked about the former star of The Apprentice, who shared more than a ring with the wrestling tycoon, including an onslaught of sexual misconduct allegations, as well as a history of unresolved childhood trauma.
Truth and lies on stage
Lee Strasberg, legendary acting teacher who trained the likes of Al Pacino, once said:
“The actor must somehow be able to convince himself of the rightness of what he is doing in order to do things fully on the stage.”
In everyday life, political actors might do this by ensuring their public role in office isn’t contaminated by their private life. This is emblematic of a more classical kind of role-play, where characters or public-facing roles are deemed larger than the actors playing them.
But just as a plethora of Oscar-bait films with snot-nosed acting frequently reveal, convincing yourself means nothing if it doesn’t produce a similar effect on those watching. What’s the point of stubbing your toe and writhing in pain for a scene if the person in the front row’s convinced you’re faking it? In life, as in art, truth is personal. There’s no perfect way to convey it.
In his autobiography, Sonny Boy, Al Pacino dispels the myth behind the mysterious “Method actor” and its glamorization in the media:
Conversely, one could argue that Trump’s “method” works as well as it does because it subverts traditional acting conventions in politics to convey an indisputable change both in rhetoric and political agenda. Whether or not he believes in his own act becomes irrelevant so long as the majority believes in the sincerity of what is being presented. It’s still very much a negotiation… but is it mutually beneficial? That’s a puzzle for his audience.
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🎬 Cool stuff referenced in this piece: The Devil’s Advocate by Taylor Hackford, The Negotiator by F. Gary Gray, Sonny Boy by Al Pacino, The Folly of Fools: The Logic of Deceit and Self-Deception in Human Life by Robert Trivers, The Traitors US, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life by Erving Goffman, and Mr McMahon (presented by Netflix). Enjoy!
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Thanks, I am enjoying the thoughtful input and well-chosed and entertaining illustrations
Thanks for the lovely comment! Glad you enjoyed it 🙂