To Tell The Truth

Caught red-handed, he was, but the little fellow (who shall remain unnamed!) still wouldn't confess. The indisputable evidence -- a cereal bowl with milk still in it -- had been pulled from under his bed and sat before him and his father. Despite the obvious, he doggedly clung to his denials. He had absolutely not been drinking milk, a definite no-no for one with his allergies. Who knows how much time and emotional energy were expended that day ... all because the truth was not forthcoming.

After more than 30 years as a registered voter, my first call to jury duty came just a few weeks ago. In my brief tour of duty, I was confounded by the realization that if people would just be truthful, much of our judicial infrastructure and the costs that keep it afloat would shrivel like a dead spider.

We were repeatedly admonished that if we as jurors were not truthful, then a fair and impartial trial could not be expected. When facts are in legitimate dispute, the jury must decide. Other cases hinge on fabrications being represented as truth; again, the jury must decide. Getting to the truth is vital; failure to do so is expensive and destructive for all involved.

Several years ago my wife awoke from brain surgery to a "sloshing" sound in her head. That was only temporary, said the surgeon, as fluids were simply "rerouting" themselves. But the sounds continued. Further inquiries brought fishy looks from other doctors who probably suspected a different kind of brain problem. And the MRIs were very expensive.

When another doctor had just told us -- emphatically, of course -- that there was no "sloshing," the truth unexpectedly tumbled out. "OK. OK. We've been lying. Sounds are common after that kind of surgery, but nothing can be done about it." Perhaps a stab of conscience over our ordeals had finally found its mark. At least we knew four things: there really were sounds, nothing could be done, saying something authoritatively doesn't make it so, and the willingness to lie had cost us a great deal of time and money. But consider a more current example.

What if President Clinton had told the truth -- the embarrassing, complete, soul-baring truth -- early on? How much agony, money, and shame could have been spared? Where is our country headed when our congressional leaders wink at perjury because they are unwilling to separate personality and responsibility? How long will it be before grassroots trial by jury is but a sham because the truth is neither expected nor demanded?

The significance of truth has long been recognized:

-- No legacy is so rich as honesty (William Shakespeare)
-- Truth is the highest thing that a man may keep (Geoffrey Chaucer)
-- No pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage-ground of truth (Francis Bacon)
-- Nothing is so powerful as truth (Daniel Webster).

The truth may hurt ... but the lack of it hurts even more.

Copyright 1998 James McAlister

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