The allegations of under-reporting of Covid-19 cases and fatalities, widely believed to be true, are distressing. Why do authorities routinely do this, over and over? It makes no sense, and yet seems written into procedure. In recent weeks, the clamour for the truth and the presentation of brutal ground realities (in the context of the pandemic) have run on a collision course with the call for stories that are positive and uplifting. A kind of denialism, I decided. I am quite intrigued.

Bringing up discrepancies and errors with reports from the field were simply unacceptable to some. Curiously, they were viewed as demoralising and creating panic, and holding the government to account as ill-timed and despicable acts of politicking. It appeared that people were quite willing to overlook the misrepresentation of facts, retreat into their bubble, busy protecting their own or helping with relief work in the face of the Covid-19 catastrophe. They frowned at conversations that veered towards critique of the ruling dispensation, afraid perhaps that their faith in it will be shaken and raise new sources of disappointments and despair.

Part 1

Governments: Habitual offenders?

Under-reporting or exaggeration, used when convenient, is the norm in most matters of public interest. Governments indulge in it all the time. The rule appears simple—where accurate and comprehensive information might not show them in favourable light and might risk public disapproval or anger, under-report. In all other cases, exaggerate effort, inflate data, and link it to outcomes that appeal to our sense of progress. Furthermore, there is a tendency to infantilise the citizen and treat people as so fragile that they must be protected from stark reality. It comes with the corresponding expectation that citizens will repose total faith in the strength and sagacity of the leadership. Tribalism under the garb of a mature democracy.

There is, I think, an unspoken pact—that the government will dutifully present data and reports, academics and scholars will cast doubt by pointing out inconsistencies, inaccuracies and gaps, and that the public will show a passing interest and move on.  

Either the government believes that sharing accurate information might invite criticism, and raise anxieties or expectations, or that the logistics and infrastructure aren’t evolved enough to generate reliable data and compilation—the government itself is then constrained by the limitations or inefficiencies of the systems it manages.

There is of course the third possibility—a larger narrative being promoted that all data must support, and towards this end, pruning and massaging the data is a necessary adjunct activity. The narrative of strong and decisive leadership, the farsighted genius, a nation reasserting its economic and geopolitical prowess, the claims to being an emerging superpower that is also benevolent, an ancient civilisation that is reclaiming its unparalleled storehouse of knowledge and wisdom for the benefit of all beings… We are by now quite familiar with this.

What about organisations besides the government?  

It is rare that one keeps their story straight and close to the facts. Most resort to creative extensions of the truth, in varying degrees aided and abetted by a constellation of service providers—audit and accounting, legal, metrological, marketing and advertising, and consulting—to serve a variety of ends—to be attractive to money markets, shareholders, and donors, to avoid adverse public attention, create and manage a story / perception of respectability, be a great place to work, service-mindedness and responsible citizenship, etc., rather than predation, exploitation, money-making and externalities.  

Tax avoidance, fudging the books / creative accounting and window dressing are expressions made famous and fashionable by organisations. Under-reporting or exaggeration, under-invoicing or inflating invoices have all served organisations who have been ‘smart’ about them. Advertising often ends up as creative license, as distortions of truth claims about the product or service, and is now high art. By leveraging lessons from behavioural science, its reach is even more penetrative and persuasive. The framework of law and systems of governance are an ever-present reason for the pervasive recourse to lies and subterfuge. No one challenges the notion that that you can’t survive if you are honest and follow the rules. It is accepted to be true.

Barring the fear, envy and jealousy that is created when individuals and organisations enrich themselves and grow to a commanding size, few raise their voice to challenge their claims, their accounts, and their record as a corporate citizen. Till a scam, a massive payments default, some obscene level of tax evasion or a Bhopal makes headlines, sab changa hai. Till jobs are not lost, till the dividend cheques keep coming, till the grants and aid tap stays open and running, till the human costs of irresponsible systemic conduct beyond cover-up and spin… sab changa hai. All is good.

Part 2

Amid disease and death, and pain and trauma, anger and indignation come easy. More so when the rest of the world is seen as flawed and not measuring up.

I had an insightful morning a couple weeks ago; it was more a reminder that withholding information and not being truthful are as much a reality within the house, and not just something that happens in Delhi (or for that matter, in other centres of power). This is what happened:

I received the lab report of my latest routine blood tests. The three-month average of my blood sugar levels threatened to crack open the roof. I was clear that if I gave my family the facts, they would panic, fuss excessively, judge me to have indulged and brought it upon myself, scrutinise every meal and look accusingly at me having a go at a slice of mango. I told them only that my blood sugar levels were high, and I that had to act.

By keeping it vague, I had hoped to contain their anxiety, and by conveying that I intended to do something about my condition, I thought I had communicated the seriousness of my situation. I did not readily acknowledge my own fear and near-panic, lest it destabilise my folks. In effect, I assumed that they had to be insulated from bad news and worry, and by extension, that I had the wherewithal as ‘the strong one’, who had to chart a course in the coming days without triggering anxiety.

More than once, they asked to see the reports. After some days, when I did share, it was apparent that nothing in it was a surprise to them. They had seen me at close quarters in the preceding months and had already guessed from the steps I had initiated.

As I thought about it, it became clear that we all swim in this ocean of lies and obfuscation for any number of reasons. The earlier discussion about governments bears uncomfortable similarities with what I suspect happens to scale, all the way to the more complex levels of government. Suddenly, there were villains everywhere. I saw one when I looked in the mirror.

What we call our reality then is a kaleidoscope of lies, half-truths, white lies, and various shades of falsehood; a complex web of motivations, claims, pretences, posturing, and untested assumptions and beliefs. So do data, facts and what we refer to as our truths hide in the interstices and the reality that we create and manage is the illusory world of perception and optics powered by conscious and unconscious collusion, lest the bluff is called the web snaps and the game stops? There are no saints or sinners, only collaborators and accomplices. If the game did stop, would we know how who we turned out and how we would play the next move? That is a scary thought. Is it?

Part 3

Lies don’t serve only the devil and the devious among us, in us. They are allies of well-meaning people like you and me. We have all lived and loved our lies. Those that we have heard often enough acquire the ring of truth. Our practice of social graces and political correctness create compulsions to say the appropriate thing rather than what one feels or needs to be said / done.

Lies help us manage our fears and our fragility, protect from the anticipated hurt, pain, loss, discomfort, our dark impulses and desires, all to burnish a persona that we have invested in, to keep up appearances, a façade of power, attractiveness/desirability, of vulnerability, that we hold as significant. They are a fact of our daily existence and help us to navigate through life. Lies are as important as the truth. They say truth liberates. But for most, lies make life liveable.

It is tempting to romanticise the quest for truth. It helps us take the high ground. It is riskier to admit that we have been economical with the truth on several occasions. To put ourselves at ease and absolve others, we have neat categories—big lies, small lies, white lies, and so on. All feel necessary at some time. We have euphemisms to ease our lying—falsehoods, untruths, half-truths, and a recent addition—alternative facts. Likewise, to take a moralistic stance is likely to only generate guilt and shame and no change, and in some instances, a backlash of whataboutery.

In the art of war (and in some sports), deception is highly rated and is a legitimate tactic. Lies have been a choice where they serve the interests of the greater good. A plain reading of Ashwathama’s trickery in a crucial battle during the 18-day war described in the Mahabharatha comes to mind.

Every lie is a hiding. It hides who we are or what we have that we find hard to embrace. It hides what we lack and promotes the story about ourselves that we want others to like, approve, and love.

We need reassurances that we are safe and lovable, the promise of hope when all seems lost, the signs that the world isn’t always as harsh and unbearable as it has been, that dreams are not snowflakes and, in the end, it all turns out well. More than hearing it from others, it must be our own voice, even if it starts as a big lie we ply to ourselves. Who is to say it isn’t the big truth that we eventually stumble upon?

It won’t do to say that others must emerge from the shade of lies. Our journey to the truth must begin with this acceptance that it is human to lie just as much as it is in the nature of the human being to search for their path and to discover their own truth. It must start with owning up to the lies that we have said, lived, and allowed under our benign gaze, thanking them. It must start with a reckoning of the price that we have paid in sustaining the lies.

It feels like the ‘moment before’ would be scary and threatening. After all, bit by bit our carefully crafted self-image and the subjective world that we have inhabited could come crashing at the threshold when lies aren’t our defence anymore and we are restored to our original state—secure, vulnerable, authentic, and unapologetic.

The opposite of lies is acceptance—of the way things are. That life forces that created us have brought us to this point with all its boons and burdens (to borrow a phrase from Ashok Malhotra), possibilities and potential. Truth (or God?) perhaps resides here, in this acceptance, and not in the after-world or in some text. We perhaps need to move from viewing ourselves as imperfect and flawed, with its attendant pressure to cover-up and keep up the lies—big and small – to a real embrace of our uniqueness, beyond comparisons, and the compulsions to measure up against some norm / ideal. We then don’t need to edit and distort the truth of who we are to be something / someone we are not. Such acceptance can be a potent starting point, rather than an act of resignation.

The challenge at the systemic level is complex. While I imagine that the change we seek will have a similar movement, the process of collective reflection and acceptance in large systems seems a daunting task. It calls for bold and transparent leadership that is secure and can level with people of various ideological hues, work with the raw energy of their dissatisfaction and commit it to a transformational agenda that has the widest acceptance. A fantasy? Is there a choice?

Image from Pixabay.