Lie

LIE. - From Latin mentitio-onis, that is, a false assertion. Regarding the question of the nature and morality of the lie, the opinions of scholars of all times and all schools are not in agreement, largely because of the real difficulty of reconciling, with consistency of sound principles, two moral attitudes at work in the common conscience of men: the one, that the lie is decidedly reprehensible; the other, that in certain situations the truth of things cannot be told without incurring the gravest private and public dangers, or without betraying inviolable secrets. Some coldly sacrifice the demands of social life to the worship of sincerity; this tendency, begun by Aristotle (Eth. Nic., I. 7, ch. 4), reaches its extreme in Kant and the Kantians. Others, on the contrary, in excessively justifying social necessities, weaken the innate horror of the lie and go so far as to elevate it into a noble system of great political and military achievements. This current traces back to Plato (Rep., I. 1, n. 5); but it reaches the improbable in the political doctrines of the utilitarians.

Catholics maintain the position of balance between the opposing doctrines, though they sometimes disagree about the justification to be given for their conclusions. Already with St. Augustine the Catholic doctrine on the lie reached, one may say, its definitive form.

I. NOTION

A lie consists in speaking in contrast with one's own thought: locutio contra mentem. Here by "speaking" is meant the communication of one's thought, whatever the means may be: either the common one of the word or another, for example, writing, gesture and the like. The expression "one's own thought" must also be clarified.

Thought is the mental reproduction of extra-mental reality. Between extra-mental reality and the thought that reproduces it, there can be conformity: one then has the truth of the thought, and possibly of the speech that communicates it; or there can be contrast: one then has the falsity of the thought, and possibly of the word that communicates it. Speaking, therefore, can refer to two quite distinct terms: immediately to the thought communicated; mediately to the reality that this thought reproduces. If it refers immediately to the thought it communicates, one has sincerity or a lie, according to whether there is conformity or contrast with that thought. If instead it refers to external reality, through the thought that reproduces it, one has truth or falsity, according to whether the thought itself is true or false. So that speech is at times sincere and false together: when it expresses, with conformity, a thought that is - through unconscious error - false. Conversely, it is lying and true together: when, a thought already false being overturned in the lie, the external expression of the speech comes to be, without the awareness of the one who utters it, in conformity with the reality of things, that is, true. Similarly, it is not a lie to express with conformity a parabolic, allegorical or otherwise metaphorical thought. Indeed the use of metaphorical language, without being morally reprehensible, can constitute an elegance of style.

In short, the essence of a lie lies entirely and solely in the immediate relation of contrast between the thought and its external communication. For this reason, neither the different modes of communication nor the different relations - of truth, of falsity, of metaphor - by which the thought in turn connects back to the reality of things have any relevance.

These are all certain notions, which common sense fully confirms. Among all peoples, he who says one thing while thinking another is a liar; and he is not held to be such who, though mistaken, is nonetheless sincere.

II. MORALITY

To the question: why lying is reprehensible, and in what its moral ugliness consists, many and various answers have been given. Among the many, the most authoritative, and also the most convincing, is that of St. Augustine (Enchiridion, ch. 22).

Man is by his nature social. His imperfections make him need the help of others; his perfections urge him to extend them to those who lack them. Hence the necessity and the natural joy of establishing contact with others; especially the spiritual contact of thoughts, aspirations, and ideals through speech. Without speech the souls of men would be isolated worlds, closed off from one another. Whoever makes use of speech manifests the implicit intention of communicating his own soul. Lying (locutio contra mentem) resolves itself into this flagrant contradiction: being speech, it seeks to obtain the natural end that is pursued by means of speech — namely, the communication of one's own thought; being contrary to one's own thought, it betrays that end, communicating to the hearer what is, in a different way, in the mind of the speaker: in the intentional betrayal of the natural function of speech lies the moral malice of lying.

A few observations will serve to clarify: a) The social order of men is twofold, according as it is founded on justice or on charity alone. In the first, the obligation of one's own communications derives from the right that others have to demand them; in the second it derives instead either from charity toward oneself (providing for one's own needs) or toward others (helping them in theirs). Speech serves immediately and always the order of charity; only sometimes, and at a second stage, does it also serve that of justice.

b) The moral malice of lying by no means presupposes, and still less derives from, any right that the hearer might have to know the thought of the one who lies to him. If that right does in fact exist, lying is reprehensible independently of its violation.

c) Neither prudent charity nor, much less, justice obliges one to communicate all of one's thought to everyone. Therefore it is not lying either to keep silent or to speak in such a way as not to reveal to others the truth of one's thoughts; but only speech that, in communicating it, positively alters it.

d) The malice of lying is theologically always light and never grave, because speech tends to realize the social order of charity through the communication of individual truths, conceived by individual men. But these truths are always limited and contingent, and, by that very fact, never essentially necessary to the social order of charity. It follows therefore that this order is never gravely harmed by lying, which, by betraying the natural function of speech, denies to it only limited and contingent truths. The fault is therefore always venial, unless it is inspired by a formal contempt for essential truth, in itself, or by other gravely illicit ends.

e) On the other hand, this venial malice is so intrinsic to lying that it is absurd to conceive of its separation. Not even God could do so; whence theologians affirm that lying in God is absurd, and absurd that he should permit it — even a single time — in man. In fact, the two contrasting constituents of lying — speech and thought in opposition — themselves constitute that flagrant contradiction of its malice: namely, the betrayal of the natural function of speech. If there is lying, that contradiction is necessarily present; if this is lacking, there is no longer lying. From which it follows that, since it is not lawful to do evil in order to obtain good, the noblest and most sacred ends can never lawfully be obtained by the use of lying. At most, good faith can excuse the subject, never justify the act. Therefore the jesting lie, that is, one told for a joking purpose, and the officious lie, that is, one told for professional purposes, are always illicit. If, moreover, lying is inspired by ends that are in themselves evil, in addition to its own malice it also takes on the specific malice of those ends. This is the classic harmful lie.

III. LIE AND NECESSITY OF SOCIAL LIFE

Lying is intrinsically immoral. And yet no one condemns the many false statements that the necessity of social life imposes. Thus a confessor, questioned about his penitent, may answer — confirming it even with an oath — that he does not know about him what in fact he does know. In the same way every secret may be defended from the indiscretion of others. A doctor may calm the anxieties of a seriously ill patient by giving him hopes of recovery which he is convinced cannot be entertained at all. Similar answers defend us from the threat of imminent dangers to ourselves or to others. Even out of simple courtesy, recourse is had to the use of many false statements. Desirous of the quiet of the home, one has it answered to anyone seeking us that we are simply not at home. By avoiding the abuse of these expressions, their liceity is admitted by all, even by the learned. But how then is it to be reconciled with the illicit character of lying? The difficulty is truly grave. St. Augustine limited himself to enunciating only this principle: it is one thing to lie, another to conceal one's thought; just as it is one thing to affirm the false, another not to tell the truth. And indeed, in many cases, silence or an evasive phrase will suffice for the purpose of safeguarding a secret, of eluding a threat, of being courteous. But many other times silence or an evasive phrase are precisely such as to betray those purposes. One cannot then either keep silent or evade; something must be said; and on the other hand one's own thought cannot be stated without danger. Is a false answer licit in such circumstances? With the great majority of sound men, Catholic doctors answer yes. They then seek the principle that gives a reason for this, without prejudice to the preceding doctrine on lying. And here many of the justifications adduced do not convince. For some are contradictory with the very concept of lying, or else they shake the foundation of its reprobation. Others, in order to keep these sure notions firm, perform dialectical acrobatics which do not withstand criticism and have every appearance of ingenious subterfuges. Others finally are partially valid in some of the situations foresaid, not in all. Among these last, mental restriction (v.) seems to be numbered. Here now is what is esteemed to be the true reason.

First of all, let it be noted that these expressions are permitted not because, remaining true lies, necessity justifies them. No necessity can make licit what is intrinsically illicit; and such is lying. If those expressions are licit, they can be so only on the supposition that they are not lies. In fact men, making use of them, do not have the consciousness of telling or of hearing lies. And they truly are not lies; it will suffice to recall to mind the genuine concept of lying and the foundation of its moral ugliness. Lying consists only in the relation between the word and the thought, and not between the word and reality. Therefore a false word may not be a lie. The expressions that interest us are undoubtedly false, but they are not for that reason lies. To be such they would have to conflict with the thought. Which is not at all true.

The moral malice of lying lies entirely in this contradiction; since it is a word, it intends to communicate the thought proper to the one who utters it; by adulterating that thought, it in fact does not communicate it. Thus the natural function of the word is betrayed. Lying therefore, in order to be such, supposes that the word is used according to its natural purpose; that is, of communicating the thought of the one who uses it. Once this purpose is excluded, the lie no longer exists, since the contradiction that constitutes its moral malice no longer exists. This clearly occurs in stage representations, where the actor appears, speaks, and acts as a king, while he is not one. Therefore he does not lie. Why? Because the gesture, the word, the action, in those circumstances, aim not at all at the purpose of communicating the thought and the soul of the actor. And then, how could such a word be a lie, that is, stand in contradiction with a thought that makes no claim to be communicated? The same happens when one speaks not seriously, but in jest. The word then is used outside its natural function: it does not intend to signify the thought of the one who jests. Therefore no one thinks that jokes are lies; even if such is the view of one who has not yet understood their true character as a joke.

This is precisely what happens in our case. When the necessity arises of keeping our thought hidden and, on the other hand, the indiscreet questioning does not allow us to be silent or to evade, our answer then — whatever it may be — does not at all fulfill the function of communicating our thought. Precisely for this reason — the necessary presupposition of the lie having fallen away — it is outside its scope. Therefore sensible men — not regarding them as serious — do not give credence to these answers; or at least they remain in doubt. But if someone believes them to be serious answers, he is naive, as would be one who mistook a joke for something serious and a stage representation for reality. Or else he is in bad faith. He pretends not to understand that the impertinence of his own question forces the other to defend his thought; and, in order to defend it, to give an answer which — whatever its verbal meaning may be — means only this: you have no right to know what I think.

All this is at once very legitimate and in perfect coherence with the preceding doctrine on the lie; indeed it is a logical consequence of it. When the use of such expressions is determined only by social necessity and not left to individual arbitrariness, there is no need to fear abuses. Outside of necessity, the Christian cult of sincerity fully prevails, according to the admonition of Our Lord Jesus Christ: «let your speech be: yes, yes: no, no; anything more is already evil» (Mt. 5, 37).

Leonardo Azzolini