Whoever originally coined the term “lie detector” was, undeniably, a public-relations genius; for it is impossible to speak or write the term “lie detector” without simultaneously attesting the reliability of the device. When you call it a “lie detector,” you strongly imply that it does detect lies. But even the most ardent defenders of “lie detectors” have, in recent years, abandoned the
term in favor of calling it a “polygraph,” which, they hope, sounds more sophisticated and scientific, and less subject to ridicule from the scientific community.
In my opinion, the most accurate name for the device would be “nervousness detector” because, at best, nervousness is all the machine detects.
But the obvious fallacy, here, is the presumption that the only reason for a person to be nervous is that he or she is lying.
Today they use “control questions” and a “soothing atmosphere”
to “guarantee” that only false answers evoke nervousness
in victims or suspects.
Even the noted FBI polygraph expert Drew Richardson was forced to confess on this point that “The diagnostic value of this type of testing is no more than that of astrology
or tea leaf reading.” Yet police and government agencies continue
to give tens-of-thousands of nervousness-detecting tests a year. Why?
One reason is that nervousness detectors provide a ready-made
excuse for lazy government investigators to sit idly on their butts.
Take the case of Aldrich Ames. Ames was a 52-year-old, 31-year
veteran of the CIA, having access to secret intelligence data critical
to US security. Ames had for years been a traitor, selling CIA secrets
to foreign powers for over two-million dollars in payoffs. Ames
had even sold the names and addresses of US covert agents working
abroad, many of whom were executed as a direct result. The
money that Ames “earned” betraying his country was used to fund
his ultra-lavish lifestyle—a lifestyle about which Ames publicly
boasted. All of Ames’s family, friends and neighbors knew that he
was somehow earning a literal fortune to support his extravagance.
Meanwhile, back at the CIA, Ames had submitted year after
year to all routine nervousness-detecting tests required of CIA
employees. Each time, Ames passed the test without arousing suspicion
that he was a traitor. Even a cursory examination of Ames’s
finances or possessions would have instantly revealed that his meager
government salary could not support his opulent living. But
why should the government conduct a real-world investigation
when it’s so much easier to use a nervousness detector instead?
After being tipped off, the FBI finally arrested Ames in 1994, ten
years after he had first masked his crimes using bogus “lie-detector”
results. Said Ames from behind prison bars, “You have to realize
that the government swears by these lie detectors. First, they swear
that they don’t swear by them; then they swear by them. I always
found that if I got a good night’s sleep before the test and just
relaxed, I could pass without any problem.”
Let’s pause for a moment, and think carefully about the statement
made by US government attorneys before the Supreme Court:
“There is no objectively verifiable method of determining the accuracy
of a polygraph examination.”