Man invented lying about 1.6 million years ago. Like many inventions, it was created out of necessity. This is how it happened.
After an unsuccessful day of hunting, Uglee returns to his home. As he plops down under his leaf shelter, his mate Ugler greets him.
"Did you kill anything?"
"Yes."
"Where is it?"
"I don't know?"
"So you're telling me you went out hunting this morning, spent eight hours on the savanna, killed something and now you don't know where it is?"
"Uh, yes."
"Do you really expect me to believe that?"
"No."
As you can see, man's first attempt at lying was a miserable failure. However, we would not be where we are today if our earliest ancestors were not persistent. Fast-forward 100,000 years to a similar scene involving Uglee and Ugler's descendants.
"Did you kill anything?"
"Yes."
"Where is it?"
"It's by the tree on the other side of the clearing."
"Show me."
"Damn."
Once again, the keen intellect of his female companion foils early man's attempt to deceive.
This remained the sorry state of affairs for liars (all of whom were men) for the next hundred millennia. Don't get me wrong, early man tried. He even came up with a few lies that he could occasionally slip past his female.
"Uh, I was over at Thog's cave" is the best example of such quasi-effective lying and variations of it still survive to this day.
It wasn't enough. Despite man's best efforts 1.4 million years ago, lying was on the verge of extinction.
Then salvation. On Aug. 14, 1,394,812 B.C. at 2:12 p.m. (I believe it was a Wednesday) Naggem Todeth became the first woman to lie. This is how it happened.
Naggem's mate -- who was very fortunate during that day's hunt -- returned home early, laden with meat. Upon stepping across the threshold of his windbreak, he sees Naggem in the arms of another man. For a moment everyone is speechless.
Naggem, realizing she's in trouble, quickly seizes the offensive.
"Did you kill anything?"
Kukold is taken by surprise. He instinctively lies. "No."
"Then what is that in your hands?"
"Uh, rabbits."
"I thought you said you didn't kill anything?"
Still running on instinct, Kukold lies again, "I didn't. I mean ... uh, you see I was over at Thog's cave and ..."
"Don't lie to me. You killed those rabbits and I know it. Why do you always have to lie?"
Normally this would have been the end of the conversation. But with 930cc of gray matter at his disposal, Kukold wasn't your average man.
"To hell with the rabbits! Who's he?"
For a brief instant, Naggem hesitated. Then it happened.
"He's my cousin Jody, from Olduvai. Now why did you lie to me about the rabbits?"
Key the theme song to "2001: A Space Odyssey," because this is when the evolution of lying truly begins. With the invention of the half-truth, the unspoken lie, statistics and make-up, lying achieved a level of sophistication that our early human ancestors could never have imagined.
Yet throughout these 1.4 million years of evolution, women held the upper hand. To this day that hasn't changed.
Let's face it, guys -- even the most skilled liars among us are no match for the average woman. I'm not talking about those really good-looking guys with Bill Clinton-like charisma: they're anomalies. Some of them may even be mutants. I'm talking about your average Joe.
Men have four good lies. "Yes," "No," "I don't know" and "It wasn't me." Weaving these four into a believable yarn is more than most of us can handle. If we do manage to pull off anything more complex, we're having a good day.
Women on the other hand ... Well, let's just say that if lying were marathon running, women would be Kenyans.
This disturbs me. Men lie all the time, even when it's not necessary. We practice among ourselves. We compare and swap lies as if they were ancient oral epics. For the love of God, how did women turn the tables on us and become better liars?
I have the answer: It's genetic.
I believe that the ability to lie is carried on the X chromosome. Women have two of these while men have only one. Ergo, women are (on the average) twice as good at lying.
So guys, there is really nothing we can do about this. When it comes to lying, we're innately inferior. Accept it.
Christopher is an anthropology senior. Reach him at christopher.t.davis@asu.edu.
