Rika Kayama (Mainichi)

       At the university where I work, there are courses for older adults, and every year I teach an intensive summer one. In early August this year, I taught a three-day program. Every year it has the same title: the psychology of deceit and lies. Changing the content year by year, we explore the issues of why we are deceived and whether all lies are wrong.

       The highlight of the course is always when students break up into groups and share their own experiences of being deceived. I tell them that they don't necessarily have to talk about themselves, but instead share cases they've heard about. But most of the senior participants talk about things that they've experienced firsthand. "When I was young, I was the victim of a scam," they would say. It's a combination of the wealth of experience they have as older adults, and a spirit of service, wanting others to avoid becoming victims to the same scams they have. I forget that I'm the instructor of the class and simply enjoy how wonderful all of this sharing is.

       I cannot write about their valuable experiences in detail here, but I am struck by the great number of people who will purchase expensive health foods and other items that are recommended to them by friends, even when they think the products will not live up to their hype. When asked why, at the core of their reason is compassion. They explain that they would've felt badly if they had not bought the products, or they figured they would give at least one a try for the sake of their friend.

       I also experienced something similar when I was much younger. A friend told me, "I have this pillow that guarantees great sleep. I really think you should try it out, too." I wasn't very enthusiastic about it, but I bought one, after which my friend suggested I buy pillows for my family members as well. When I consulted my mother, she gave me a stern talking-to. "It's because you didn't turn your friend down in the first place that it's gotten complicated now. So now your relationship is going to get awkward."

       But the story doesn't end there. Yes, things got awkward between my friend and me, just as my mother predicted. But we recently got back in touch. We of course don't mention the pillows. We took a stroll down memory lane via email, asked about each other's health, and suggested meeting up once the coronavirus pandemic is over. I've reaffirmed that my friend is an important person to me.

       But naturally it's annoying being pressured into buying something that's expensive and not something you want, or being recommended so-called health foods that aren't effective. To the students in my course who shared their stories with each other, I said, "Please don't fall victim to such schemes from now on." I truly hope they don't.

       (By Rika Kayama, psychiatrist)

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