The case for lying.

IN the world of Google and blogging and LexisNexis and $24.99 Internet background checks, why do liars continue to lie?

Why, for crying out loud, did Illinois Senate candidate Jack Ryan insist there was nothing in his divorce records to worry about--only to see his campaign crash and bum when those records were unsealed to reveal allegations from his ex-wife about him wanting her to perform sex acts at clubs in Paris, New York and New Orleans. Ryan disputed the allegations, but of course it was too late.

Did he really think there was even a remote chance this stuff would stay hidden? If Bill Clinton couldn't manage to keep Monica Lewinsky and Jennifer Flowers out of the public eye, how on earth could this political neophyte bury claims that he was supposedly into kinky sex?

And yet, Ryan is but a tabloid example of what goes on at companies every day of the week. As my friend Judy Rosener noted in a recent opinion piece, "lying on resumes has become so common career development counselors have found it necessary to make it a high priority on their 'don't-do' lists." She cited a recent survey that found nearly 60 percent of those questioned cited corporate lying and dishonesty as the cause of the stock market woes. The economy barely registered, at 15 percent.

What's intriguing about this pattern is not that it's new--lying is as old as civilization itself--but that the prospects of being found out in the information age serves as only a limited deterrent. A year after scandals at The New York Times and USA Today, there ate still reporters who routinely get caught either plagiarizing material of simply making stuff up.

Why do folks continue to cheat at a time when they run the distinct risk of being found out?

Perhaps it should be dubbed calculated lying. That's a lie based less on reflexive defense mechanisms (telling the editor that your story is almost finished when in fact you've only written the first paragraph) than on a kind of cost/benefit analysis that assesses the situation's permutations.

Jack Ryan must have gone through just such an assessment and no doubt realized that coming clean with the release of those divorce papers would have been just as politically toxic as having them released by the courts. Maybe he figured there was at least a chance that the records would be kept sealed and he could have stayed in the race and brushed aside the gossip.

But forget sex clubs. Let's say you're about to be offered a dream job, except after a series of interviews you've neglected to tell your potential employer about a low-point in your life some years back when you wound up with a couple of DUIs in another state. You want to be candid with these people, to tell them about your past, but you suspect--with good reason--that upon hearing your disclosure, they'll pass on the offer. So you keep your mouth shut. They tell you that a background check is mandatory for all new employees and even ask whether there is anything they should be aware of, but you casually shake your head in the hopes that somehow those old records won't pop up.

You lied, to be sure, but when there are risk-averse personnel managers and conniving subordinates and ruthless competitors all wanting to make themselves look good--and you not so good--dial you really have much of a choice?

Mark Lacter is editor of the Business Journal.