The Best Policy

We all remember the old adage, "Honesty is the best policy." And I'm sure most cynical minds would claim this was simply society's attempt to maintain order, not because honesty is a virtue in itself. Parents teach their children this idea, mostly with reassurances that honesty will get you further in life, and any situation will turn out better if we are all honest with each other. In my experience, however, honesty doesn't always make things better.

The first example that comes to mind is an experience I had in high school. I was taking a math class, and I had a friend--let's call him Tan--who was a TA (teacher's assistant) for my class. Math is not one of my strengths, so Tan thought he would do me a favor and change my grade. Now, in this particular class, we had two sets of grades, homework and tests. Tan only changed my homework grade, albeit without asking me first. When he announced his good deed, my heart dropped into my stomach. I knew I was going to have to tell on him. 

I don't enjoy getting other people in trouble, especially in this case where Tan thought he was doing something nice. Telling the teacher meant risking Tan's friendship, as well as his academic standing. Changing grades in a teacher's grade book, no matter the noble intentions, is grounds for expulsion, at least if the principal's in a bad mood. I hoped when I came clean I could take off the edge, and I asked our teacher to go easy on Tan. 

The eager parents instructing their children that honesty always works out for the best often point out the rewards from honesty. Well, my teacher did not let me keep the improved grade (so much for a reward) and my friend Tan did not talk to me for weeks. I never wanted to hurt him, but I couldn't let the lie of the altered homework grade sit on my conscience. If nothing else, my honesty helped get me in to BYU-Idaho; I used this story in my college application.

Another test of my honesty came in the form of a letter, or a paycheck, to be more precise. Last summer I worked for a small newspaper in California, writing a few freelance articles. I made sure I was paid in full before I left for Idaho, but just this week I received an additional paycheck in the mail. I immediately realized it was a mistake, so I called the office and left a message, telling them I had already been paid, but still hoping they would let me keep the money as a reward for my honesty. Hey, it could be a holiday bonus, I told myself. Alas, two hours later, the accounting department called me back and said I should go ahead and rip it up, they would void the check in their books.

So there are two great examples of how honesty doesn't necessarily leave you feeling warm and happy inside. Sometimes you lose friends, other times you lose money for being honest. I like to reassure myself with sentiments like, "My integrity is worth more than ninety dollars." (That's how much the paycheck was for--a paltry sum for many, but for poor college students, that's groceries.) It also helped to think about my family's generosity over the holidays--parents, aunts, uncles and cousins alike--and to know we will be fine without that extra paycheck.

Society teaches us to be honest, yet we also learn about white lies, and lying for safety's sake. White lies are often viewed as synonymous with tact, and they are only said to preserve a friend's feelings. My parents taught me a few techniques to preserve honesty even in tough situations, like when a friend buys a new and ugly article of clothing. There is always something nice that can be said, no matter how much you might dislike it. Perhaps it is a really pretty color, or the buttons are bright and shiny. If there is absolutely nothing nice, no redeeming qualities about the article itself, you can still comment on how nice it is that your friend could get a little something new, that they deserved to treat themselves, or how it must have been fun shopping for it.

Now, the first example that comes to my mind of lying for safety's sake is actually Joseph F. Smith, although he is an example because he did not lie. Even when his life was in danger, he maintained his honesty. As I recall, he was alone with a man who had a loaded pistol, ready to kill any Mormons in his path. When asked if he was a Mormon, Joseph F. replied, "Yes siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through." Luckily Joseph's honesty was rewarded--the man was so impressed by Joseph's conviction that he spared his life.

Honesty by itself isn't enough to make a stable society, however. It would be like a child stealing cookies from the jar and thinking because he confessed, it's okay. Honesty is a start, though; it is a start.