A definition of dishonesty

I am reading Donna Leon's latest, A Question of Belief. If you have not come across Guido Brunetti of the Venice police, I highly recommend it.

My subject for today arose from a conversation Brunetti has with Signorina Elettra, who is an expert at obtaining information either through a computer or by exploiting her many networks, when Brunetti realises she has never used a female source.

'It would be more dishonest to get information from women this way.'

'Dishonest?' he repeated.

'Of course its dishonest, what I do. I'm taking advantage of people's innocence and betraying their trust. You want that not to be dishonest?'

'Is it more dishonest than breaking into someone's computer system,' he asked, although he thought that it was.

She gave him a puzzled glance, as if amazed that he could ask such an obvious question. 'Of course it is, Dottore. Information systems are built to stop you from breaking in: people know you're going to do it or try to do it. So in a sense, they're warned, and they take precautions or they should. But when people tell you things in confidence or trust you with information they think you're not going to repeat, they have no defences.'

Later, he mentions to his wife: '... she believes dishonesty is in proportion to how much trust you're betraying, not to the lie you actually tell.'

I find that a fascinating definition, and one that keeps the focus on the 'victim' rather than on the liar.

This is post 13 of 100 posts in 100 days.