In the court of public opinion, honesty always wins out over truth. In a court of law, exactly the opposite is supposed to occur. Does not always, obviously, as the Simpson trials demonstrate, but under normal circumstances, it's fair to say that truth will out over honesty in things legal.

OK...so how can I say that culture and the facility designed to protect that culture have bi-polar disorder? It comes from disabusing myself of the belief that honesty is truth. It's not, and I'll demonstrate why in a few paragraphs, but bear with me.

This all grew out of (sorry about this, gang) the Diana tragedy, and my observations about people's reaction to it (for the record, I was devastated. I was hoping to meet her one day, to tell her how much I admired her spirit, determination and yes, her honesty.). Newscasters were falling over themselves in shame for the way she was treated by their "lesser" brethren, as they showed us film of her pushing cameras away on holiday, beating photographers with a tennis racket, driving off wildly down Paris and London streets, paparazzi in high speed pursuit. And of course, the ubiquitous "getting out of a limo demurely yet flirtingly" photos and film up her skirt.

Truth? They used those pictures in death as in life, to titillate us. Honesty? They wanted us to have one last glimpse of her beauty and dignity, what little she could show in public.

Neither of those is false. Both are equally valid points to make in contemplating the use of the pictures. One allows us to feel better about ourselves, one is the existential truth.

On the satellite dish, I got the ABC (BBC) feeds, the Fox (Sky) News feed, and occasionally, ITN's feed. I counted the types of videos and photos they'd show. Overwhelmingly, they showed her getting out of a car and wading through a crowd going to some event in a glamorous gown. Next most often shown was the video of her approaching a cameraman in some Swiss resort and shoving his camera aside, pleading for privacy for her and her sons, followed by her driving off in a limo being pursued. Then there were the films of her with the boys on a log flume, laughing and carrying on. Finally came the excerpts of her BBC interview, most prominently her discussions of a crowded marriage and pictures of her on AIDS wards and with Mother Theresa. This was, of course, a week before the sister died.

Truth? We liked watching her slink in gowns, the most photogenic royalty since Princess Caroline lost all her hair undergoing chemotherapy for HIV. Honesty? She was shown to be a caring, loving, fierce fighter for herself, her sons, and those less fortunate than she was.

In my life, I'm battling my own honesty. I can be a real pig to people (no, duh!), people who mean something to me, people whom I actually want to stick around for the final acts, which approach alarmingly fast. My honesty is that I am who I am. My truth is that I don't care enough for the people around me.

But, hell, enough about me. You want to know more, go read my life history on my home page. I'm not going to waste bandwidth again with it.

Another diversion to come out of the Diana tragedy is the most central one, which I'll sum up succinctly.

Truth? We killed Diana. Honesty? Henri Paul was drunk.

I didn't get this dichotomy until I stated my belief in a forum filled with Oprah-watching-bon-bon-munching-National-Enquirer-reading entertainment junkies, and promptly evoked a reaction similar to the one the Marv Albert story got: total disgust with an overweening sense of self-righteousness. There was, of course, a fair amount of agreement with the stance I took, but I found it curious that the most vehement arguments I got on this topic were from the people on staff at this particular entertainment-driven venue.

(Side note: There's a concept for you to wrap your brain around: how the hell is Diana connected to "entertainment", other than being a patron saint of the Royal Ballet? She was a princess, a hardworking contributor of time and energy to charities, a mother to two sons....does any of that smack as "entertainment"? Maybe I'm going about my acting career all wrong, huh? I wonder what Princess Edward is doing tonight.)

I claimed that, in our quest for those titillating photos of Diana's breasts barely contained in some sausage wrapping (OK, I was a *little* bit less graphic in there), we bought more newspapers. I mean, really...the story resonated with us, man and woman. Princess bride, royal future, disgraced, scandalized, sex, drugs, rock and roll, eating disorders, who *wouldn't* want to read more? We grew up on Dallas and Dynasty, after all! Wouldn't Diana merely be the Catherine Oxenberg character come to life?

Those "more newspapers" got noticed. Diana appeared on the cover of People Magazine 46 times (48, now, with at least one more at Christmas to come, dontcha know...the pigs), and each time raised circulation figures. Editors sent out for more photos. It became known that Diana was wanted, was prey. Instead of rifles, we asked for telephoto lenses. Those paparazzi stopped at nothing, literally, to get that one great shot.

OK, but Henri Paul was DRUNK, some would say. Irrelevant, if you think about it.

Try this thought experiment out: if you zero out each individual factor contributing to her death, the only one that stands a chance of completely eliminating the accident is if the paparazzi stopped chasing her. Paul's sober? He's still speeding to get away. He stops speeding? He's still drunk and probably out of control. May not have been fatal, I grant you that, but at the speed limit, he would have been ducking motorcycles left and right. Which on balance would have been even more dangerous.

The only saving grace, I suppose, of thinking about him not speeding is that he might have taken a few of the jackals with him.

But, if you remove the paparazzi from the picture, then Paul is free to get blitzed that night, Diana and Dodi drive off with the regular driver, and she's still alive.

Truth? We killed her for the off-chance we might get another picture up her skirt or with Dodi's dick in her mouth. Honesty? Well, we bear no responsibility for this tragedy. We can walk away. Right?

I said that in courts, truth will out over honesty, except when there's real money on the lawyers. Let me show you how.

In Chicago, a hooker was arrested and convicted in a jury trial after she beat the crap out of a john who got a little rough with her. Was she right to do it? I think so. Would I have convicted her? Maybe.

See, what happened was that she beat him up, left him on the ground, and then went back to kick him some more. She claims the man grabbed at her belt trying to drag her to the ground. Witnesses confirm this, but add that she kept stomping on his face, long after he was out cold.

Truth? She didn't have to keep kicking him. She could have walked away, not even running. Honesty? He deserved it, and besides, he did keep trying. And God forbid a woman who stands up for herself against a man, no matter how willing she is to degrade her body, would ever be judged as overreacting to a threat from one of those customers. Sex is, after all, a weapon.

Both equally valid. Only one is palatable.

Bernhard Goetz....remember him? He shot four kids in a New York City subway who "asked him for five bucks". We New Yorkers know he was being mugged, and rightly he was found innocent, but....

In a civil trial, one of the victims, Darryl Cabey, I think, won a fifty million dollar award against him. Why?

"You don't look so bad. Here's another." *BLAM* And Cabey wound up in a wheelchair.

Truth? He was living out a Clint Eastwood fantasy ("Sudden Impact" had just come out), was too sick to own a handgun, and is frankly a poster boy for the anti-handgun movement. Honesty? The kid got what he deserved. He was a convicted (and soon-to-be convicted again) felon.

Honesty is a filtered truth. Honesty judges the truth to our advantage. Honesty allows us to impose our fears and hopes on the truth. There's the truth about honesty. People are honest when they are afraid, when they can be caught out. Even if they are the ones doing the catching out of themselves.

I'm an honest man. I tell the "truth", but I do so for all the wrong reasons. It's not because I want the truth to come out, but because I want to use "my" truth to further my own ambitions, because I'm afraid of someone else finding out the truth for themselves with their own biases and conflicts, without giving me the chance to put it into the appropriate context. Spin it, if you will.

We all do this. We all, no matter how honest or dishonest we are, try to manipulate the truth to our favor.

I'm guessing here (and all you Psych majors, help me out) but I think it was Erickson who proposed the seven levels of personality, that we have seven images we present to the world. They range from the one we'd like to think we show to the one our friends perceive to the one we think they perceive, to finally, who we really are.

Honesty probably falls into contemplating the level of "what we think our friends perceive us to be". That level is about the only one that presents conflicting dichotomies directly to us, that forces us to weigh information that maybe we really don't want to consider. I don't think I have to describe where truth falls in.

When we speak of "an honest man" (or woman) we speak of someone whose words have the ring of truth to them. This is probably the closest we come to grudgingly acknowledging that truth and honesty are two separate issues.

I'm not saying honesty is a bad thing. It's not. It's based on truth, for one thing (I'm deliberately not touching the topic of lying. I've got too many issues with people lying to me right now to be fair about it.), and it does convey information to those we are honest with, which it should. That information tells the listener two things: one, some of the facts that make up the truth, and two, what we perceive that truth to be, even if we aren't admitting it. See, on some level, we know what the truth is. Why else would we try to control it? Why else would people get so violently offended when someone mentions it and condemns their behavior in the name of it?

As an actor, I strive for truth, as painful as that can be. The best I expect to achieve right now is honesty (which means I'm a mediocre actor at best, but still better than 80% of the actors that melt at the opportunity to be in a sham-show like "Phantom of the Opera," or "Les Miz."), to present myself as close to my truth as I can, and to get out of the way of who I am, to stop controlling how people perceive me.

I'm close, which is why I infuriate so many people, because I adamantly refuse to be what they want me to be. Artists should look for truth in themselves. When Robert Mapplethorpe took those pictures, he was trying to show his truth. We judge his truth with our honesty and find him flawed.

Shouldn't we be forgiving him or at least tolerant of him, because he spoke his truth to us? Truth IS ugly. Maybe truth IS a bullwhip jammed up someone's ass. Certainly has some appeal to me on that level, given the context I'm presenting truth in here. Or a Piss Christ. Or chocolate smeared all over Karen Finley's body.

My favorite example of honesty comes in The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, when Arthur Dent confronts the Vogons, who are about to destroy the Earth to make way for an intergalactic superhighway. When he protests that the people of Earth were never consulted on the plans, the Vogon captain says something like, "Well, they were right there for public inspection, in the basement on Frogstar Five, taped under the filing cabinet, under the dripping pipes behind the door marked "Danger: Radioactive Waste", you had your chance to see them. Don't go whining about it now!"

Truth is tap water. It's good for us, but sometimes it contains nasty things that can make us a little sick. Honesty is tap water filtered through a Brita. Takes out most of this stuff, but still, it's tap water, right? It even tastes better, in spite, or maybe because, of the chemicals it has added.

CARL SALONEN, 75323.2373@compuserve.com "If Cawl wuh a twee, he would be the mighty wawch, oh a taww oak, oh something that woud faw to the gwound in a high windstohm--Baba Wawa". Check out his personal homepage at http://ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/de_Valois.