Over almost a decade in politics, Governor Spitzer has developed a troubling relationship with the truth.

The first strike against him was his concealment of how his father, Bernard Spitzer, bankrolled his 1994 and 1998 attorney general campaigns. Mr. Spitzer lied repeatedly about how he repaid a $4 million bank loan that he funneled into his campaign account before confessing late in the 1998 race that he had borrowed millions of dollars from his wealthy father.

The second strike happened last December when a former Goldman Sachs chairman, John Whitehead, recounted an April phone call with Mr. Spitzer, who was irate over a Wall Street Journal op-ed Mr. Whitehead had written taking issue with the attorney general’s investigation of AIG’s Hank Greenberg.

“It’s now a war between us, and you’ve fired the first shot. I will be coming after you. You will pay the price,” Mr. Whitehead quoted Mr. Spitzer as saying. Mr. Spitzer insisted he had a “spirited” conversation but had made no threats.

Given Mr. Spitzer’s history of intemperate exchanges and the specificity of Mr. Whitehead’s recollection, the latter’s account struck the objective observer as the more credible scenario.

Strike three appears to be Troopergate. We don’t know what the governor knew and when he knew it. If we’re to take him at his word, we’re forced to believe the notion that a jugular-slashing investigator with a reputation as a micromanager was ignorant of the machinations of his most senior aides, with whom he was in regular daily contact. That’s a tough one to credit.

For elected officials, the basic motivation for lying is political self-preservation. The calculation is, at least at first blush, rational. Lying conceals flaws. As long as the truth doesn’t emerge, a politician can cling to innocence. But lying has a more complicated side. Pride, self-denial, and self-preservation in the personal sense are other sources of dishonesty.

Had Senator Craig thought practically about how to respond to the disclosure of his guilty plea in a gay sex sting with the objective of keeping his job, he might not have resorted to the “wide stance” defense.

An acknowledgment of a problem and a plea for forgiveness may have won him sympathy from the Idaho electorate and his Senate colleagues, who might have been less willing to jettison a suffering person so open about his personal demons. The impact on Mr. Craig’s family, however, might have been more severe. In Mr. Spitzer’s case, one senses in his denials a combination of the practical and the personal. We don’t know for certain that the governor is covering up the real story.

Perhaps Mr. Spitzer assumed that Attorney General Cuomo’s report on the scandal represented the final judgment on what transpired between his office and the state police.

Perhaps the governor also assumed that Republicans could hurt him more seizing on admission of guilt than by stoking speculation.

On a personal level, one envisions that weighing on Mr. Spitzer was the fear of contradicting his self-image as a man of integrity who transcends Albany’s culture of sleaze.

The aftermath of the scandal raises doubts about the benefit of deception. The Spitzer administration’s lack of cooperation with investigators has given Senate Republicans an excuse to drag out this controversy for months.

Republican senate leader Joseph Bruno insists that Albany cannot move on to regular business until “we can get the truth” and is considering calling yet another public hearing, this time with the acting police superintendent, Preston Felton, as a guest witness.

Meanwhile, the Spitzer administration has entered a tug-of-war with the state ethics commission, which is conducting a separate inquiry, over personal e-mails of the governor’s senior aides.

Had Mr. Spitzer and his aides given a fuller account of the plot against Mr. Bruno, the governor initially would have taken a bigger hit. But in the long run, Mr. Spitzer would likely have been in better position than he is in now. Full disclosure would have obviated the need for additional investigations.

After the shock of the news faded, Mr. Spitzer could have asked that Albany get back to work without being accused of trying to hide the truth.

Voters would have been upset about the misuse of state police, but they would have also understood that the governor was trying to expose the arrogance of a state legislator who thought himself too important to take a car and a train to New York City like every other lawmaker, including Speaker Sheldon Silver.

At the end of the day one has to figure that New Yorkers are just smarter than the politicians. Nobody, save for Mr. Spitzer, believes that the governor is morally superior to other politicians. It’s honesty that’s in short supply.

No one mourns the beautiful, young English cherry tree struck down by Washington’s hatchet. Everybody remembers that the future general didn’t lie.