Managing liars (Part Two)

So we know one or a few confirmed liars. What are we going to do with them? Attempt to reform them, put them in the fridge, hope for some miracle or exile them faraway? What kind of relationship will we choose to carry on with them in the future, if any? 

If we still want to be friends with someone who lies, remember that friendship requires trust. If someone’s lying erodes that trust, the friendship becomes lopsided and unsafe. Can we even be friends with a liar if the untruths told are small, infrequent, or rooted in insecurity? Maybe, if the individual is willing to talk about it, show remorse and grow out of the practice. 

All of this is theory, instead I tend to go with “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me” a 17th century proverb, advising that while being deceived the first time is the offender's fault, being fooled again is the victim's fault for not learning from the experience. So, I can’t be friends with a liar if I must feel anxious around them or am constantly second-guessing what they say.

This holds also true if we see them lying to manipulate or control, Just remember that friendship is voluntary; we don’t owe anyone access to our inner life. Then there’s the question as to whether liars can be reformed? The answer is NO for me, but could be YES, only if the truth manipulator wants to be. Let’s remember that people can change when they fully recognize the harm they’ve caused and feel safe enough to tell the truth. 

They must also be motivated to build healthier patterns and practice honesty even when it’s uncomfortable. People won’t change if they continue to see lying as a very effective tool, blame others for their behavior, deny their lying problem and continue to benefit from the deception it procures them. We can encourage honesty, but we cannot force integrity.

It’s up to the individual to decide, and I don’t know about you, but I’m still incapable of reading other people’s minds too well. Finally, should we shun liars or what level of access does this person’s behavior earn? Trust is not a moral judgment — it’s a calculation. We should certainly distance ourselves when someone’s lying consistently harms us or others. 

That’s not cruelty — it’s self-respect. What we shouldn’t do is humiliate or punish liars and declare them “bad people”. Instead we can choose to limit the access they have to us, not place ourselves in their way and don’t rely on them. Boundaries are not rejection, they’re clarity. 

Now, I hope you’ve got some useful tools to navigate the murky waters of dealing with a person whose proven track record was never to be reliant about telling the truth...

Managing liars (Part One)

How do we deal with liars once they’re identified as such? What form will our relationship take with them? These are brave and important questions, and it’s a good thing that they don't stop at just asking “how to spot dishonesty”, but what to do with that knowledge. 

Human relationships are messy, and lying sits right at the intersection of trust, fear, insecurity, and self‑protection. There isn’t a single “correct” response, but there are patterns that should help us navigate it with clarity and self‑respect. We’ve seen before that not all lies and liars are the same. People lie for very different reasons and it’s important to understand the type of lying they use to helps us decide how to respond. 

Let’s start with the situational or fear-based liars, those who lie because they’re scared of consequences, embarrassment, or conflict. There is a figment of hope with that group as it can change, because some individuals usually feel guilt. In fact, they may lie less when they feel safe enough to be honest. Next, we have the habitual liars, those who lie reflexively, even when the truth would be easier. They’ve often learned lying as a coping mechanism and if they’re willing and able to put in the effort, they might change, but I wouldn’t bet the farm on it.

The following and scarier group are the manipulative or self-serving liars who lie to control, exploit, or gain advantage. These are dangerous dudes. They rarely change without major consequences or professional help, so don’t ever touch them with a ten foot pole! That brings me to the subject of whether or not we should consider working with someone who lies. 

 This might be tried, but only with boundaries. We could work with someone who uses fear-based or minor lies, if they acknowledge their behavior, show consistent effort to improve, and we are clear-headed about what to expect and can live with the consequences. Clearly, do not work with someone who lies if they use it to manipulate outcomes, deny or justify their flaw and use them to harm others or undermine trust in the team. 

If a liar ever is a candidate for working in a professional setting, the key is structure with documented agreements in writing what the expectations are and there can’t be any reliance on verbal assurances alone. This isn’t punishment — it’s protection. 

Tomorrow, we’ll see if we can continue any relationship with liars. Could we be stay friends with them? Reform them? Or should we just shun them?

2-12 The “art” of lying… (Part Two)

Obviously, even when somehow related, lies are all different. Today, we’ll try to bring some clarity to their vast diversity. So, is there a good way to classify them into buckets that range from their intensity, immorality, expediency, and issues that define one’s character. 

What follows is a framework that attempts to capture all this. In sorting them out by intensity, we measure how far a lie departs from reality. Is it creating minimal distortion, like small exaggerations? Is it of moderate fabrication, like mixing truth with fiction? Is it on the contrary total and complete invention, creating a false reality? 

Then it gets worse with a lie that sustains deception by maintaining a falsehood over time. That intensity factor often correlates with the effort required to maintain the lie. If we sort lies by moral weight, how much harm does the lie cause or intends to create? Are they just harmless / prosocial lies that are meant to protect feelings? 

There are these neutral lies used for convenience, privacy and to avoid embarrassing situations. We also find self‑serving lies that are there to protect ego or avoid consequences. It gets worse again when lies become harmful in order to cause clear damage to others. That goes also for malicious lies that are intended to deceive for personal gain or to hurt. In those instances, the liar’s nefarious intent becomes totally visible. 

When we sort lies by expediency, it measures how quickly they can solve a problem. Like the instant‑relief lies used to escape a moment of discomfort. The so-called “strategic lies” that are planned, calculated and often manipulative are much worse. Those are chronic lies, the convenient, habitual shortcuts that are used to avoid responsibility. Expediency often reveals whether the lie is impulsive or deliberate. 

Finally there are the lies that reveal a liar’s character. This is probably the dimension people care about most. It begins with the occasional, low‑stakes lies that are part of normal human behavior. Then there are these that are used to avoid accountability, signaling immaturity or insecurity. In dialing up we find the lies that harm others for personal gain, showing some clear, ethical cracks. 

When the mind gets too cloudy for its own good, there is compulsive lying that signals the need to talk to a mental professional. Today with Trump and his enablers, we see lies that rewrite history and reality, white signaling a strong dose of narcissism or a fractured sense of self.

Of course, character isn’t measured by whether someone lies — everyone does — but by what and why one’s lies about, how liars behave when confronted with the truth. So to conclude this voyage in a world of lies, we should wonder if there’s more lying today than in the past? 

It may not be more common, but it’s more visible because digital communication leaves permanent traces, social media rewards exaggeration and performance, public figures go for casual dishonesty, people live in echo chambers that normalize bending the truth, and anonymity reduces accountability. So the perception of widespread lying is strongly amplified. 

I don’t think there’s any falsehood in making that statement!

The “art” of lying… (Part One)

It seems that lying has never been so prevalent, at least that is the way I think it is. In fact, I tend to believe that Trump “legalized” the practice. So, this leads me to wonder why do people lie, and if anything how lies can fall into categories like, intensity, immorality, expediency and can they help us gauge someone’s character?

Whether lying is actually more common or simply more observable in a hyper‑connected world is debatable, but the experience of being surrounded by dishonesty feels very real for many people. What we’re talking about is the psychology of deception and the moral “spectrum” of lies. In other words, why people lie, how those lies differ, and what they reveal about character. What I’m really asking is what does lying say about who someone is? 

Of course, it depends on the motive, the stakes, and the pattern. A single lie tells us almost nothing but a pattern of lies generally tells us everything. Let’s go deeper into any of these dimensions, especially the character side, which is where the topic gets most interesting. People lie for a surprisingly small number of core reasons, even though the forms vary endlessly. 

Most lies fall into one or more of these categories. First it’s for self‑protection, that’s the most common motive. They want to avoid embarrassment, punishment, conflict, or loss of status. Next comes the need to boost one’s image, competence, or desirability; we’ve all seen that. This includes exaggeration, humble‑bragging, and résumé inflation. 

There is also lying to protect others, what’s often called “white lies.” It’s used to sooth feelings, avoid hurting someone and maintain good harmony. In a more dishonest category are those who use lying to gain some advantage, through manipulation, exploitation, or strategic deception. This is where lying becomes morally darker. 

We also have all those who lie by habit or compulsion. They just lie reflexively, even when the truth would work fine. In these situations these people should clearly seek mental assistance. Naturally there are also the lies many of us use for “social lubrication” (or hypocrisy) like saying “It’s so great to see you” or “I love your dress – or your car – or your new skis”, etc. 

Finally, there is what’s called “Identity maintenance” when people lie to preserve a story they’ve built about themselves, even to themselves. Maybe the kind of mode of operation Trump uses daily? Tomorrow, we’ll explore how we can classify lies and measure them, so please stay tuned and don’t forget to bring a measuring tape!

Who originated paragliding? (Part Two)

In 1985, As Jean-Claude Bétemps, along with Gérard Bosson and André Bohn were busy developing their new sport, came Laurent de Kalbermatten. A Swiss pilot, he made the jump from modified parachutes to "La Randonneuse," the very first wing designed solely for paragliding (using non-porous fabric and rigid lines).

This is when paragliding ceased to be a variant of skydiving and became a free-flight sport in its own right. This model was at the beginning of mass production. Other manufacturers and designs soon followed. With more models available, the number of practitioners increased along with marketing and competition between companies, all this resulted in the technical development of paragliding in terms of ease of use, performance, and safety. 

The first recorded record in free flight distance is 69.15 km and was set by Hans Jörg Bachmair on 10 June 1989, which has been officially recorded by the International Aeronautical Federation (FAI). Soon paragliding was organized as a legitimate sport. The first European championship was held in 1988 in St Hilaire, France. The following year, the first world championship was held in Koosen, Austria. Much later, in 2004, the Asian championship in Handong, South Korea and in 2008, the Pan-American in Castelo, Brazil. 

My friend Anselme Baud who was a faculty member at the ENSA, the Chamonix-based school for mountain guides and ski instructors, in addition to being one of the pioneers of extreme (steep) skiing, played a role in adding the use of skis to the practice. In the early winter 79/80, on Plan Praz, at the Brevent’s gondola mid-station, in Chamonix, as Jean-Claude Bétemps was conducting tests with his "paraplane" (the name for the early paraglider). 

Instead of taking off on foot, Anselme Baud ​​ket his skis on to gain speed. He launched himself down the slope, took off for a few hundred meters before touching down on the snow again and skiing away. Anselme saw in the paraglider not just a flying machine, but a "mountain tool" allowing him to descend faster or overcome obstacles impassable on skis.  

In conclusion, Jean-Claude Bétemps, along with partners André Bohn and Gérard Bosson, while an instrumental trio in inventing the sport, were more focused on the technical development and the promotion of paragliding as a new, accessible sport, rather than aggressively marketing and monetizing it like a Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg would have done. 

The sheer popularity of their innovation created a massive boom in the 1980s. Independent manufacturers quickly stepped in to improve the equipment, leading to a booming industry that they paved the way for, without enjoying the fruit of their invention. 

Now, just like me, you know the whole story...

Who originated paragliding? (Part One)

Paragliding has always amazed and interested me, even though I knew nothing about its origins. It was preceded by the delta-wing, hang-glider, a key precursor to foot-launched aviation, invented in 1963 by John Dickenson, an Australian engineer for water-ski towing. 

It’s Bill Bennett and Bill Moyes that further developed Dickenson's design in the early 1970s, turning the water-ski kite into a foot-launchable hang glider which hooked many of my French countrymen. Hang-gliding led to paragliding which history is quite fascinating because it’s not based on one single invention, but on a series of pioneers who transformed a survival device (the parachute) into a fun implement. In searching for those "truly" at the origin of the sport as we know it today, we find a group of technical precursors. 

Before paragliding became a sport, it was necessary to invent the double-surface wing that would allows it to work. In 1964 an American, Domina Jalbert, the real inventor, Domina Jalbert, patented the Parafoil. Consider it as the birth certificate of the cell wing. Before him, parachutes were round; after, they became rectangular and capable of generating real lift. 

One year later David Barish, a consultant for NASA, developed the Sailwing (a single-surface wing). He was the first to practice what he called "Slope Soaring" on a ski slope at Hunter Mountain, near New York, dropping 200 feet. 

Although Barish was technically the first "paraglider," the activity did not catch on and fell into oblivion for more than a decade. 

On June 25, 1978, in Mieussy (17 miles from my hometown of Montriond, in Haute-Savoie) three parachutists from the Annemasse aero-club decided to take off from a Mieussy slope instead of jumping from a plane to save on flying costs. 

Their idea came from reading an article in the 1972 Parachute manual that referenced David Barish's Sloape Soaring. Jean-Claude Bétemps, who will turn 77 this year, often called the father of paragliding, was the one who performed the very first test (a small jump down the slope).

André Bohn: a high-level Swiss skydiver followed and made the first true sustained flight later that year, taking off from a slope on Mont Pethuiset and landing 1000 meters lower in the valley, on the Mieussy football field. 

Gérard Bosson structured the activity and in 1979, founded, with Michel Didriche and Georges Perret, the world's first paragliding club and school: "Les Choucas" in Mieussy. He was instrumental in promoting the sport internationally. 

Tomorrow, will see how further improvements and adaptations have molded the practice of paragliding...

Age and risk-taking

The accident just sustained by Lindsey Vonn at the Olympics reminds me of another ski comeback, that of Bill Johnson, former downhill Olympic champion at the 1984 Sarajevo Games. At age 40, weighed down by personal struggles and chasing a sense of former glory, he attempted an improbable return for the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City. 

The bid ended abruptly on March 22, 2001, when Johnson crashed during a training run before the downhill race at the US Alpine Championships in Montana. The injuries were catastrophic — severe brain trauma, a nearly severed tongue, and a three‑week coma. His body simply couldn’t cash the checks his competitive instinct kept writing.

I’m not in Lindsey’s head, but watching her come in fast, catch air, catch the gate and lose control, we can almost feel the split-second where instinct and physiology parted ways. That’s the paradox of aging: the mind stays young, hungry, convinced it can still summon the same reactions, while the body quietly rewrites the limits. 

The gap between intention and execution becomes just wide enough for disaster to slip through. I half-jokingly call this the “Biden syndrome” — not political commentary, but a shorthand for that universal human illusion that we’re still 25 on the inside. It’s a reminder that experience doesn’t always compensate for the slow erosion of reaction time, balance, and resilience. 

More than ever, I’ll try to learn from this when I ski or drive. Respecting one’s limits isn’t cowardice; it’s wisdom earned the hard way by others who pushed past theirs.