How do you suppose invention of ‘truth machine’ would affect you?

By David McElroy · April 15, 2012

How would you feel if you knew you couldn’t hide the truth about anything? What if you knew that the complete truth would always come out — about your actions, words and even thoughts? How would it change the way you live your life?

I’ve been reading a fascinating book called “Consciousness Beyond Life,” about so-called “near-death experiences.” One of the most commonly reported events from a near-death experience is a life review in which a person relives everything he’s ever done or thought. Here’s how Dr. Pim van Lommel explains what he found in the patients he interviewed:

“People know their own and others’ past thoughts and feelings because they have a connection with the memories and emotions of others. During the life review people experience the effects of their thoughts, words and actions on other people when they originally occurred, and they also get a sense of whether love has been shared or withheld. Although this can be extremely confrontational, nobody feels judged: people understand how they lived their life and how this affected others.”

I didn’t like the way that struck me, because I quickly realized that there were times when I haven’t been as honest with others as I’d like to be — especially about feelings and thoughts. So I wondered how I would feel if that were true. What would I feel if everyone one day knew every little thought or feeling I’d had about them? How would I feel if every little “white lie” I’ve told were exposed? How would I feel if there were no secrets about my thoughts or feelings?

The thought reminded me of a 1996 science fiction novel called “The Truth Machine.” The premise is that a perfect lie detector is invented — the truth machine. It’s first used for criminal justice, then for job interviews and then finally everyone is wearing them everywhere. All of a sudden, it’s not possible to lie, because lies are instantly exposed.

I like to think of myself as an honest person, but the thought of that much honesty scares me. It actually seems as though it would be a better world in the long run — after we got past the initial shock of knowing what everyone really thought of us. Even though I intellectually think it would be good — and even though I piously try to stand for the virtue of truth with others — it still terrifies me.

And as I think about how it makes me feel, I realize with an uncomfortable shock that I feel this way because I don’t feel as though I’m honest enough. It makes me feel terrified to think about a world in which anybody could know the truth about me — especially of my thoughts and feelings.

It reminded me of a song called “No One Will Have a Secret” by a Christian group called the 2nd Chapter of Acts from about 30 years ago. It’s talking about the days after the end of this world when we know God:

No one will have any secret
No one will tell any lie
Things that were done in hiding
Are gonna reach to the highest sky

So imagine a world like that for a moment, whether you want to see it as a science fiction future or a time in the afterlife. Imagine a place where everyone knows everything you’ve ever done or said or thought or felt. Would it be a relief? Or does the thought of people knowing that much truth about you make you queasy?

However it made you feel, what does it tell you about the way you’re living life right now? Are you being honest with those you love? Are you being open enough with your thoughts and feelings? Or do your hidden thoughts and feelings mean that you’re living a lie?

I don’t like the way it makes me feel. If she’s going to know that I felt that — and didn’t tell her — what will she think of me? If he’s going to find out that I wasn’t completely honest about that other situation, will I feel ashamed of myself?

When I do this as a thought experiment, it doesn’t uncover serious dishonesty in my life, but it makes me uncomfortable, because it forces me to realize that I do shade the truth a bit in my favor at times and I do hide things that aren’t quite favorable to me and I do avoid telling people things that sometimes need to be said. I realize we all do those things at times, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling that maybe I might give myself a bit too much credit for being as honest as I’d like.

So what if people knew your real thoughts and feelings? Would it change the situations of your life? Would you have to confess to somebody that you’re living a lie? Would you have to confess something to a spouse or a boss or a friend? Would you have to make changes to your life if people knew the truth?

I’m glad there’s not a truth machine, but the fact that I’m relieved it doesn’t exist tells me more than I’d really like to know about whether I’ve been as truthful with others as I sometimes think I am. How about you?

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If you have problems with high blood pressure, I’d like to encourage you to consider making serious changes to your diet. There might be some people who don’t have any choice but to start taking prescription medications for high blood pressure, but I’d like to tell you that I have completely eliminated my issue by eliminating all sugar and almost all carbohydrates. (A couple of months ago, my blood pressure hit 185/144, which was dangerously high — considered stage 3 hypertension.) By completely changing my eating habits, I’m down 22 pounds and my blood pressure is now in the “ideal” range — without taking any medication. In addition, I sleep better and I have more energy. Getting away from the sugar-laden mess that we generally refer to as “highly processed food” has been a life-changer for me. Now my challenge is to avoid slipping back into old habits — by eating in the dangerous ways that almost everyone in our society has come to see as normal.

When I first heard about this, I thought it must be satire. When I discovered it was real, I was appalled, but I still thought it must be a one-time thing from some nutty activist. But it turns out it’s the latest bit of pandering to a bunch of far-left activists who believe that a man can become a woman if he decides to claim he’s a woman. As everybody knows, men have prostate glands. Women do not. Period. End of story. Men can get prostate cancer. Women cannot. But political activists are so eager to pretend that a man claiming to be a “trans woman” is really a woman that they are insisting that “women” be included in public health messages about the issue. This is nothing but political virtue-signaling. If you’re a man, you know which parts you have. You know that you ought to be screened. Nobody is made any safer by dragging far-left gender ideology into simple medical reality.

Every time someone tries to tighten requirements around the use of absentee ballots, I hear screams from Democrats and others on the political left that such efforts are nothing but “suppression of black voters.” These protests have never made sense to me, especially because it’s never been a secret that absentee ballot fraud goes on all the time in certain areas. (Everybody knew it when I worked in politics.) The people who engage in such fraud are rarely caught — often because the local political establishment approves of the crime — but a Democrat who won a primary election in Clay County, Alabama, last year has pleaded guilty to this sort of cheating. Terry Andrew Heflin was running for a place on the Clay County Commission. He was caught ordering seven absentee ballots in the names of various voters and sending them to his post office box — after which he used the ballots to vote absentee for himself seven time. Did he have other people cast additional fraudulent ballots? We’ll never know. But in a primary in which he was able to win with only 141 votes, it wouldn’t take many fraudulent votes to change the election. The next time you hear “civil rights activists” claim that it’s just “voter suppression” to hurt blacks which is at the root of efforts to stop this fraud, remember Terry Heflin. If you care about fair and honest elections, ballot security and voter identity should matter to you.

A state legislator in Maine has been stripped of the ability to speak in the state Legislature — and her votes are not being counted on legislative issues — all because she made a truthful social media post. Rep. Laurel Libby (R-Auburn, Maine) opposes allowing boys to compete against girls’ teams in school athletics and she’s become known for making an issue of it. On Feb. 17, she posted on Facebook about a recent example that she found outrageous. She posted side-by-side photos of a boy named John who competed last year in a state track event and won fifth place against other boys two years ago — and a photo of the same boy (now called Katie) who won first place in the same event this year against girls. Whether you find this outrageous or not, Libby is clearly being honest and truthful about the objective facts of an issue of public importance. But the state Legislature censured her. Democrats decreed that she could not speak in the House and that her votes would not count on legislation — until she apologized for the outrage of telling the truth. She refused and her constituents have been unrepresented in the state House since then. The people who promote this ideology are out of touch with reality and won’t rest until they force the rest of us to join them in this delusion. But even if you agree with “trans” ideology, you should be appalled at this heavy-handed attack on political speech.

The late Steve Jobs was at the center of our culture’s transition from analog to digital. He co-founded Apple Computer. He led the team that revolutionized personal computing with the first Macintosh. As CEO of Apple, he led the development of the iPhone and later the iPad. You would think the children of such a man would be surrounded by technology. But Jobs and his wife Laureen didn’t let their children use iPads. Their home had few screens of any kind. Even though Jobs spent most of his time developing and selling Macs and iPhones and iPads, he was home with his wife and children for dinner when he was in town. The family ate together at a simple wooden table in their kitchen — and there were no digital devices or focus on popular culture. Instead, he’s said to have guided his family toward deep discussions of art, philosophy and education — with no iPads to be found. If the man who guided the development of such products chose a different path for his own children, does that suggest that his digital experience taught him that children need human connection, not screens? And does it suggest the possibility that we might be better off if we made the same choice for our families?

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