Strawberry Fields, Nothing is Real
Let me take you down,
'Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields,
Nothing is real
If you are, for whatever reason, still reading any of the stuff I spout every now and then, by now you might be more than aware of my susceptibility to bullshit, to lack of care for meaning, to overpromising, fact twisting and hyping. Reading all that, it feels like nothing is real. Is anything real?
As much as I despise bullshit, humbug and paltering, they are all ingredients of an unavoidable practice which lies at the very core of pretty much whatever we embark on as a society: deception. Deception is the term that better, more intimately, connects together all those previous posts I published during the last few months. And this post comes as a closure to that extended rant. Talking about deception means talking about all those other things combined under one umbrella term. And it is perhaps about time the rant comes to an end in such a cohesive way. Anything else would mean repeating myself. For the same reason, this post can’t be very long. The reader surely got the point by now, but I will still say a few things about deception before the pontification finally stops.
Deception is a hidden factor of production—a building block of the economy. Deception impacts and influences the world as a system—globally—and it’s part of our everyday life. Deception helps land jobs, get companies funded, find dating partners, get presidents elected, start and end wars.
But what is deception, exactly? It means basically to deliberately cause (someone) to believe something that is not true, at least not entirely true, especially for personal gain. The interesting thing about deception is that it may sound as something negative or unethical at first reaction, but it can also sound extremely noble and even necessary as well. Think of the ghost army made of rubber tanks which was used to fool the Germans during WWII. No one would think that was unethical. On the contrary, we couldn’t be more thankful someone thought about it. Just like literally no soul would think that it’s unethical making yourself bigger, taller than you actually are while facing a black bear. If you want to find a deceiver, look no further: check in the mirror tomorrow morning. We all do it.
Deception finds its way in business life so naturally we almost don’t even think about it. In any “race” of sorts where there are a variety of contenders running to get resources a very few own—a scenario which repeats itself too often in the business world—the grounds for deception in lack of any better competitive advantage blooms. Chances are you don’t have the skills nor the charm your immediate competitors have—you can’t be sure because you cannot see them, so better think of the worst case scenario when you’re the worst—therefore you’re only left with one option in the bag: make yourself appear shinier, bigger, smarter, better, cheaper, more attractive, more unique, more ingenious, more groundbreaking, more cutting-edge than others. And, principally, than you are in reality.
Is the act of deceiving a recent trait of our culture, something perhaps a result of modernity, or due to recent sociological shifts? Of course not. Deception is as old as the wind. 54 years ago, this article asked more or less the same question—it so oddly reads as if it could’ve been written last week. But deception goes way, way back in time. In Greek mythology, for instance, it is captured to the beat.
The tale goes that Prometheus decided one day to sculpt the form of Veritas (Aletheia), the goddess of truth, using all his skill so that she would be able to regulate people's behavior. As he was working, an unexpected request from Zeus called him away. Prometheus left Dolos (the spirit of trickery) in charge of his workshop. Fired by ambition, Dolos used the time at his disposal to fashion with his fingers a figure of the same size and appearance as Aletheia, with identical features. When he had almost completed the piece, which was truly remarkable, he ran out of clay to use for her feet. Prometheus returned, so Dolos sat down in fear of being reprimanded. Instead, Prometheus was amazed at the similarity of the two statues and wanted to test how similar they were. Therefore, he put both statues in the kiln and when they had been thoroughly baked, he infused them both with life: Aletheia (the truth) walked with measured steps, while her unfinished twin stood stuck in her tracks. The fake statue, a product of forgery with no feet, acquired the name of Mendacium (or Pseudologos). The tale ends by emphasizing how, every once in a while, a subterfuge can start off successfully, but with time Aletheia (Veritas, the truth) is sure to outpace it1.
This would, again, sound too idealistic for an ending. In short, a world without deception and bluffing is utopian. Bullshit, paltering, weaseling, they’re all tools used to paint the mirages we all paint in a frequent basis. So, fine, let’s all bluff like there is no tomorrow, as long as we grow solid feet to—management speak alert—”walk the talk”, or put our money where our mouths are, whenever the cards are called to be shown. Unless, of course, we choose to go live the life of a knockoff.
A bad cover version of love
Is not the real thing
Bikini-clad girl on the front
Who invited you in?
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Adapted from https://www.theoi.com/Daimon/Dolos.html