Numbers don’t lie, because numbers don’t say anything at all. They are completely and utterly meaningless unless and until they are interpreted by some human being, in some context, for some purpose. Think about it: if I look at you and say ‘5426,’ what have I just said? It’s not the same as if I look at you and said ‘tiger,’ which might imply that something solid and real and dangerous was creeping up on you. It’s just a number, and without context it means precisely nothing.
Human beings lie. Some human beings lie unknowingly, some intentionally. Some human beings stake their entire careers on their ability to lie. Some stake their entire lives on it. And numbers — precisely because they have no intrinsic meaning of their own — are beloved by humans who lie. If I say ‘tiger,’ and it’s a lie, you discover it quickly by looking around. If I say ‘5426,’ and it’s a lie, how will you ever know it’s a lie? What does it even mean to say it’s a lie?
Whenever someone tells you a number, it is your responsibility to interpret it. If you cannot interpret it yourself, then you are forced to rely on someone else’s interpretation. If you are forced to rely on someone else’s interpretation, then sooner or later (ah, hell, sooner…) you will run across someone who lies to you using numbers.