Big
Lies: From Socrates to Social Media.
By Mark Kurlansky. Illustrated by Eric Zelz. Tilbury House. $22.95.
A fascinating and genuinely valuable book that tries a little too hard
to be visually attractive, Mark Kurlansky’s Big
Lies starts by explaining that “we humans are the most highly evolved
liars” – but makes it a point to show that we are scarcely alone in shading (or
evading) the truth, since he compares human lying to activities such as animal
camouflage (lying through coloration about whether or not you are dangerous,
blending into surroundings and thus lying about whether you are an animal at
all, etc.). Kurlansky places human lies on the same scale as “bluffing,
exaggerating, bragging,” and discusses their use as competitive tools; and he
looks a bit at socially acceptable “little white lies” and at longstanding
disputes about whether lies are ever permissible: Thomas Aquinas “believed that
lies are permissible when told to be helpful or as a joke,” while Immanuel Kant
insisted “that all lies are harmful, ‘for a lie always harms another, if not
some other particular man, still it harms mankind generally, for it vitiates
the source of law itself.’”
Even religious traditions disagree within themselves about lying,
Kurlansky says: in Judaism, “the Old Testament denounces all lying” while the
Talmud “cites instances when lying is permissible.” And what of Socrates? He
believed in a “grand lie which will be believed by everybody” and that can
therefore be used to underpin national or civic identity. That concept gets
closer to the majority of what Big Lies
is about, since Kurlansky’s primary interest is about “public lies” that are “told
to avoid responsibility, to win elections, to disguise true intent, to distract
the public from things the liar wants to hide, to change our perceptions of
truth, to create chaos and confusion, to gain and retain power and wealth.”
These lies, Kurlansky asserts, are genuinely dangerous and “have never been
more prolific than today.”
And so he delves into social media, the reality that it is now “faster
and easier to spread lies,” and the surprising finding that “most of the lies
themselves aren’t new.” He shows that many current disputes in the United
States date back to the nation’s beginning, to a founding using documents that
drew on Enlightenment concepts that were deeply in dispute even at the time of
the colonies’ independence. He shows what Russian rulers (the 300-year Romanov
dynasty) had in common with the likes of Adolf Hitler when it came to
anti-Enlightenment lies, and shows how deniers of evolution, climate change,
and vaccine effectiveness all draw on anti-Enlightenment sentiment that remains
essentially unchanged (despite having differing targets) after three centuries.
In exploring the history of societal and political lies, Kurlansky unveils some
fascinating material, such as the fact that the claim of insidious Illuminati
running the world actually dates to the real existence of the Bavarian Illuminati,
a secret society in the 18th century. Kurlansky shows how lies about
this secret society were used to, among other things, condemn the Freemasons,
another secret society – among whose members were Paul Revere, Patrick Henry,
Benjamin Franklin and George Washington (and Kurlansky notes that the
“mysterious pyramid with an eye on the top, featured on the dollar bill, is
thought to be a Freemason symbol”).
Along the way in his discussion of lies and liars, Kurlansky discusses
the supposedly inherent antagonism between science and religion. But far from
dismissing religion as a bunch of lies, many famed scientists saw their work as
proof of the existence of God. Francis Bacon thought scientific learning
confirmed the significance of what God created, for example, and Isaac Newton
considered his laws to be proof of God’s existence.
Kurlansky’s extension of his explorations into times closer to our own
era turns up all sorts of interesting material, such as an 1894 cartoon
attacking newspapers for publishing “fake news” (those exact words). Regarding
more-recent times, he gets into such issues as the Watergate scandal during the
Nixon administration and the Iran-Contra one during the Reagan years, calling
that one “a trifecta of mendacity, a lie on a lie on a lie.” And Kurlansky has
especially harsh words for the invasion of Iraq under President George W. Bush.
Readers already familiar with politics, to at least a slight degree, will
likely notice that Kurlansky seems especially virulent in writing about
Republican presidencies and quite forgiving of Democratic ones (“it is hard to
find lies [Jimmy Carter] told as president, though there may have been a few”).
This may simply be an accurate assessment, or it may be colored by Kurlansky’s
personal viewpoints.
The “personal viewpoint” interpretation is at least somewhat supported
by some of the oddities of the book’s presentation. In addition to some
typical-of-book-design boxes highlighting specific sentences, some illustrations
by Eric Zelz, a few photographs, and occasional marginal discussions (some of
which are fascinating, such as Kurlansky’s visit to the tiny island where
Alfred Dreyfus was imprisoned in the late 19th century after being
framed for a war crime), Big Lies
includes two graphic-novel sections, one in five scattered chapters and one in
four. The five-chapter one, “From Russia with Love,” has Russian disinformation
about vaccines being disseminated in the United States. The four-chapter one,
“The Prince of Real Estate,” is an extended and very obvious attack on former
President Donald Trump – and its first part immediately follows a two-page
section called “How a Stable Genius Lied His Way to the Top,” which is within a
chapter called “Big Dictators and Big Lies.” There is, of course, nothing wrong
with an author having opinions on any subject and any person. But the inclusion
of the graphic-novel sections of Big Lies
is already curious: the cartoon-driven chapters are preceded and followed by
traditionally written ones, making for an inexplicably confusing layout. By the
time “The Prince of Real Estate” begins, the graphic storytelling elements come
to seem like the main point of the book. Indeed, the book’s final narrative
page is the very last page of “The Prince of Real Estate.” So it is fair to ask
whether Kurlansky himself is communicating or perpetuating any lies, big or
small, about someone he vociferously condemns and heartily dislikes. Readers of
Big Lies really should research this
on their own and come to their own conclusions – indeed, Kurlansky himself
wants readers to learn how to study statements by politicians and others and
determine whether they are truthful.
There is actually a subtle irony here: it was during the Trump administration that the vaccines against COVID-19 were developed, and those are the very vaccines that Kurlansky has the Russians trying to undermine in the first graphic-novel portion of his book, “From Russia with Love.” Kurlansky himself seems to have some blind spots – but to a large extent, his point in Big Lies is that everyone has them, and certain demagogues (aided in recent times by the ease of instantaneous communication) have found ways to tap into and exploit them. Big Lies is an intriguing blend of history with a cautionary tale, full of interesting facts and catchy writing, but with its own somewhat choppy presentation – in which the author’s own predilections (and thus, by implication, susceptibility to believing lies) come through from time to time. Written clearly enough for younger readers, but analytical enough and with enough care in its factual elements for older ones, it is certainly worth reading and thinking about in our own age – when, more than ever, we can understand the wisdom of what Jonathan Swift wrote in 1710 (in a passage that Kurlansky unfortunately does not quote): “As the vilest writer has his readers, so the greatest liar has his believers: and it often happens, that if a lie be believed only for an hour, it has done its work, and there is no farther occasion for it. Falsehood flies, and truth comes limping after it.”
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