The Santa Dilemma

My daughter and I are walking home from the park the other day when she asks me: “Is Santa going to visit our house on Christmas?”

Am I a hypocrite if I lie to my daughter about the existence of Santa Claus?

This is the kind of question my childless friends don’t have to ask themselves. As soon as you make a little duplicate of yourself things get complicated. It’s not just the absence of free time or inability to sleep in: there are ethical dilemmas to resolve.

Here are my concerns. Kids start lying early. At first they're not very good at it but it doesn't take them long to become little arch-deceivers. Kids realize on a basic level that lies are tools. The right lie can get you out of trouble or earn you undeserved treats. What's there not to like?  

Toddlers are devious little creatures. They're sponges that absorb good and bad ideas with the same voraciousness. They're mechanics trying to figure out how the world works, or more specifically, how they can make it work for them. “If I say this, my parents get mad. What if I say that instead?” They don't lie out of malice or for pleasure: they're pushing buttons and pulling levers in order to see how best to get the desired results. In a way it's amazing to watch. In another way, it's infuriating.

All the parents I know try to stop their kids from lying and I’m no exception. My wife and I have spent much time teaching our daughter the pitfalls of chronic dishonesty. I think the message is starting to sink in but one can never be sure. Maybe she’s come to realize that the consequences of lying outweigh the benefits, or maybe she’s just getting really good at lying and I can’t tell the difference anymore.

At face value, the answer is clear: dishonesty is bad; we try hard to instill honesty in our children; hence lying to our children is bad. This is an over-simplification, of course. Actions alone cannot be intrinsically good or bad. It's all about context. We praise killers and traitors if the circumstances are right; maybe it's the same thing with Santa Claus.

Does convincing my daughter (or letting her believe) that a fat guy in a red suit delivers presents to all the good children in the world provide some benefit that cannot be reproduced through alternative means?

I asked some people why they think parents tell their kids Santa is a real dude. Comments varied but most of them touched on one of two things:

Santa Claus elicits wonder, joy, and excitement in children.

No denying this one. Kids go crazy for the spectacle of Santa Claus. I do wonder whether, in some cases, the disappointment of learning the truth doesn’t outweigh the joy and all that. I know my reaction to the big revelation wasn't bad. I still remember thinking to myself, "As long as the presents keep coming every year, what do I care?"

Only child here. Can you tell?

Santa Claus teaches children about charity, that is giving without expectation for reciprocation.

This one is slippery. I get where people are coming from. Santa works tirelessly all year making toys for all the good kids; then, on Christmas Eve, he puts in a bunch of over-time delivering the fruits of his labor. The kicker? He does it pro bono, out of the goodness of his heart.

That is the very definition of charity.

Unfortunately, children are on the wrong end of this lesson. They learn that it feels nice when nice people do nice things without expecting anything in return. I think I can teach my daughter that lesson without resorting to deception, thank you very much.

In fact, the only people who learn about charity via Santa Claus are the parents. They’re the ones who stand in crowded malls and spend their hard-earned money. They do all the work and give credit to a long-dead, quasi-historical figure, receiving no appreciation for their troubles.

A third function

Make no mistake about it: lying is a tool for adults as well as children. We lie to make people happy, cast ourselves in a favorable light, or spare someone’s feelings. Our intentions might be pure but, since we all agree dishonesty is generally bad, shouldn’t we seek alternative ways of producing the desired result?

Case in point: a mere mention of the Naughty List is enough to curb a toddler's public tantrum or make collard greens disappear in his mouth. It’s the little red button parents get to push when a situation gets to Defcon 5. You can do things the hard way--work toward peace through diplomacy--or you can push the red button and bring peace to any region instantly via nuclear winter. The intention—to bring about peace—is a noble one but I’m sure you’ll agree that dropping nukes to establish peace doesn’t make much sense. Well, lying to establish good behavior is roughly the same thing.

Back to my daughter’s question. Caught off-guard, I’m forced to make a snap-decision. In my best fatherly voice I tell her, “Honey, Santa Claus is like Dora the Explorer and the Magic School Bus: he's just a story and he's not real. But,” I continue, ”a lot of kids believe he’s real and it wouldn’t be nice to spoil the surprise for them. So even though you know the truth, you shouldn’t tell other kids.”

I congratulate myself for handling it so well and forget the whole thing even happened.

Until I come home a week later. My daughter is extremely excited. “Daddy daddy daddy!” she says as I step through the door. “I saw Santa Claus today.” She frowns, remembering something. Her tone gets dark. “You said he wasn’t real. You lied to me.”

“He isn’t real!” I say defensively.

“But I saw him. He was at the mall.”

I open my mouth. I’m about to tell her that there’s a Santa at every mall, that people get paid to pretend, and then I stop. I was so worried about honesty and being ethical and teaching my kid the right lesson, and what did it get me? I tell her the truth and get called a liar for it.

I guess the truth is pretty flexible when you're 3-years old.