Don't ban political lies | Ben Sixsmith

I I hate liars. Of course, like everyone else, I hate liars whose lies embarrass me more than liars whose lies are attractive or effective. But I really do my best to disdain all lies, no matter how ugly or attractive their packaging. (At the very least, no one wants to be an idiot.)

For example, before Boris Johnson became Prime Minister, I critical his “gleefully indifferent stance toward the truth,” and how “the facetiously bright facade… [shielded] a calculating and dishonest political animal.” His years in Number 10 have done nothing to change my mind.

So I should be somewhat attracted by calls to ban political lying. Neal Lawson, head of the left-wing think tank Compass, believes such a move would change politics in Britain:

All of a sudden, the best of our politicians could find their voice, not to win by destroying their opponent but by demonstrating a realistic vision of hope. People could still debate and strongly disagree, but not in a way that would polarize and reduce the space for listening, learning, adaptation, and growth.

Cancer would be cured. Vladimir Putin would end the war in Ukraine and lock himself in a prison cell. The lion would lie down with the lamb.

This is, of course, an embarrassing utopianism and symptomatic of the inability of left-wing thinkers to understand that people have real moral and epistemological disagreements. Almost no one, many of them, has truly values ​​and theories different from theirs. They have just been deceived by a cabal of Russian conservatives, technicians and robots. Ban lying and everyone would realize – as if emerging from a cave into the sun – that Net Zero, supranationalism and citizen assemblies are fabulous ideas.

The fact is that “polarization” – itself exaggerated as a political reality in the UK – is not reducible to the opposition between truth and lies. He can be, of course. But it can also involve competing ideas that both have plausible claims to epistemic validity. It can also involve different moral values ​​and societal aspirations, which contain an element – ​​if not more – of subjectivity. Does Lawson understand that honest disagreement is even possible?

But what about the idea itself? He gained a lot of popularity. As Lawson writes:

The Welsh Parliament has already pledged to pass a bill banning politicians from lying and polls show the public support it.

Well, if the Welsh Parliament, renowned for its efficiency, supports the idea, who could disagree?

More seriously, there are certainly too many lies in politics. There is no way to defend them. (Some of them, in fact, are illegal, for example for defamation.) But what is account because lying is a delicate matter. Welsh Parliament intends to target “deliberate deception”, which would be assessed “through an independent judicial process. But even assuming that this process is truly independent and objective – perhaps too generous – I am skeptical about the extent to which “deliberate deception” can be diagnosed. Theoretically, we could find proof that someone knew they were lying – a WhatsApp message saying “SUCKERS!” ”, for example – but such proof is difficult to find. I suspect that “political lying” would be subject to the same concept as “disinformation”. “Lying” would not actually mean deliberate deception but rather advocacy of outmoded ideas. In February 2020, for example, it could have been applied to claims that people should wear masks to protect against COVID-19. In April 2020, it could have applied to claims that masks do not protect people from COVID-19.

More prosaically, it seems difficult to believe that such a law would be be applied independently and objectively. Like Mr Lawson, I believe that Boris Johnson has had an unfaithful relationship with the truth. But would Lawson apply his contempt for “political lying” to the tireless and prolific inconsistency of Prime Minister Keir Starmer – a man who changes his opinion as frequently and randomly as most of us change our socks.

I admit that it would be difficult. It cannot be proven that Starmer was layer when he praised his “colleague” and “friend” Jeremy Corbyn, for example, only to claim shortly afterwards that he I wouldn't even wave him across the street.. It would be difficult to demonstrate beyond a reasonable doubt that he has not changed his mind. Yet it simply illustrates that a ban on strictly provable lies would not transform a culture of political dishonesty. Dishonesty is much deeper and more invasive than factual statements that are proven to be false and misleading.

A ban on political lying would therefore be ineffective if applied rigorously and dangerous to the point of being downright totalitarian if applied carelessly or opportunistically.

Sorry, Mr. Lawson. These visions of CompassWorld may have to wait. Perhaps I will see you again one day at the great citizens' assembly in heaven.