There was a time, not so long ago, when politicians at least made an effort to pretend they were telling the truth. Sure, they stretched it, massaged it, and occasionally trampled all over it, but there was still some vague expectation that outright, blatant lying was a career-ending mistake. But today? Forget it. Lying is no longer a political liability—it’s a winning strategy.
Across Western democracies, voters keep electing and re-electing leaders who lie through their teeth, make grandiose promises they have no intention of keeping, and then, with a straight face, tell us they never said what they very clearly did. Worse still, many voters don’t seem to care. Some even cheer them on. What’s going on? Have we all collectively lost our minds, or have we simply given up on expecting better?
It’s not like we’re short on examples. Take Donald Trump, the reigning champion of political falsehoods, whose fabrications are so outrageous they make a used car salesman blush. His latest whopper? Claiming that the President of Ukraine started the Russia-Ukraine war—a bit like blaming the pig for the wolf blowing down its house. But Trump is hardly alone in this fine tradition.
Paul Keating, in his 1993 election campaign, solemnly declared that his L.A.W. law tax cuts were set in stone. Spoiler: They weren’t. Julia Gillard assured Australians that there would be no carbon tax under a government she led, only to introduce one soon after. Kevin Rudd’s litany of broken promises could fill a small library. And then there’s Anthony Albanese, who told Australians their household energy bills would drop by $275 a year—a promise about as credible as a Nigerian prince offering you millions via email.
At the state level, we had Mark McGowan vowing there would be no changes to the Upper House electoral system in WA, only to backflip on the promise mere weeks after securing re-election. The pattern is clear: campaign promises are about as binding as a Tinder bio.
What’s really changed? It’s not that politicians have suddenly become less honest—they’ve always been slippery—but it seems like all remaining vestiges of accountability have evaporated. Once upon a time, being caught in a blatant lie would at least result in a few tough headlines, maybe even a resignation. Now, politicians barely break stride. They know that by the time the lie is exposed, the news cycle will have moved on, the outrage will have fizzled, and their supporters will find a way to justify it.
Two major factors have driven this shift:
The Rise of Social Media – The arrival of Facebook (2007) and Twitter (2006) changed everything. No longer do politicians need to rely on traditional media to communicate. They can bypass the gatekeepers entirely and deliver unfiltered, unchallenged propaganda directly to their followers. Trump mastered this technique, using Twitter to pump out wild exaggerations and conspiratorial nonsense without any pesky journalists getting in the way. His tweets weren’t about truth; they were about controlling the narrative.
The COVID Power Trip – The pandemic gave politicians unprecedented control over people’s lives, and many of them have struggled to let go of their newfound power. With a compliant media—led by the ABC and its international equivalents—gushing over their every move, they learned that as long as they sound confident, they can get away with just about anything. Public trust in government institutions collapsed, but oddly, faith in individual politicians—especially the most authoritarian ones—remained.
This is where it gets depressing. It turns out, a worrying number of people actually prefer the lies why because voters love hearing good news. We all want lower taxes, more infrastructure, better healthcare, free education, and increased social security—all at the same time. When politicians promise all of this, we know it’s a fantasy, but we still want to believe. The last time we got a dose of reality—when Tony Abbott’s government actually tried to cut spending in 2014—the backlash was enormous. Ever since, politicians have learned a simple lesson: tell voters what they want to hear, not what they need to hear.
The Conspiracy Effect. The same minds that believe the moon landing was faked and that Bill Gates is secretly implanting microchips through vaccines are just as willing to believe that their favorite politician is always telling the truth, even when confronted with overwhelming evidence to the contrary. According to a 2021 study from the Pew Research Center, over 25% of Americans believe in at least one major political conspiracy theory. If people are willing to believe that a secret cabal of lizard people runs the world, why wouldn’t they believe that Trump “won” in 2020 or that renewables will magically power Australia by 2030?
Once upon a time, people read newspapers—real ones, with long-form journalism that explained complex issues. Now? Most news consumption happens in bite-sized social media posts designed to trigger an emotional reaction rather than encourage critical thinking. When the average person spends 147 minutes a day on social media (Statista, 2023), but only 15 minutes a day reading actual news (Reuters Institute, 2022), it’s no wonder that political discourse has been reduced to slogans, memes, and outrage cycles.
So, where does this all lead? Simple: politicians are now rewarded for lying.
The electorate has created the perfect incentive structure—punish the truth-tellers and reward the liars. When a politician tells hard truths about budget constraints, climate policy, or immigration, they get crucified. When they tell fairy tales, they win elections. So why would any rational politician be honest?
Take Chris Bowen, the genius behind Australia’s unrealistic renewable energy targets. His plan rests on the absurd assumption that massive infrastructure overhauls will happen on schedule and within budget—a prediction thaat grows more unbelieveble by the day as all the evidence mounts up they they will never make the 2030 targers. But does the public push back? No. They nod along, because the alternative—admitting it’s a fantasy which the pblic signed up to 10 years ago whene there were no costs would be too painful.
And so, the cycle continues: politicians lie bigger, voters get dumber, and democracy slowly erodes into a contest of who can promise the most outlandish nonsense with a straight face.
Where Does This End? At some point, reality always bites. Budgets don’t balance themselves. Wars don’t start because Ukraine’s president wanted them to. Carbon taxes don’t magically not exist just because they’re rebranded. And yet, we march forward, choosing leaders who would struggle to lie straight in bed.
If Trump is the sign of things to come, we should be deeply worried. The more outrageous the lie, the bigger the reward. The more voters accept dishonesty as the norm, the less accountability we will ever have.
The real question is: when will we, the voters, finally get sick of being played for fools? Because until that happens, the liars will keep winning, and the truth will remain the first casualty of politics.
