LIE.
From Latin *mentitio-onis*, i.e., a false assertion. Regarding the question of the nature and morality of lying, the opinions of scholars of all times and schools have not been unanimous, largely due to the real difficulty of reconciling, with consistency of sound principles, two moral attitudes operative in the common conscience of men: one that lying is decisively reprehensible; the other that, in certain situations, the truth of things cannot be stated without incurring the gravest private and public dangers, or without betraying inviolable secrets. Some, sacrificing coldly the demands of social life to the cult of sincerity, follow an approach initiated by Aristotle (*Eth. Nic.*, 1, 7, ch. 4), which finds expression in Kant and Kantian thought. Others, by contrast, in their excessive justification of social necessities, weaken the innate horror of lying and go so far as to elevate it to a noble system for great political and military achievements. This current traces back to Plato (*Rep.*, 1, 1, n. 5), but reaches the point of absurdity in the political doctrines of the utilitarians.
Catholics maintain a balanced position between these opposing doctrines, though they do not always agree on the justification to be given to their conclusions. Already with St. Augustine, Catholic doctrine on lying reached, one might say, its definitive form.
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**I. NOTION**
Lying consists in speaking contrary to one’s own mind: *locutio contra mentem*. By “speaking,” we mean the communication of one’s thought, whatever the means: whether the common medium of speech or another, e.g., 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 may be conformity: in which case we have the truth of the thought, and possibly of the speech that communicates it; or there may be contrast: in which case we have the falsity of the thought, and possibly of the speech that communicates II. Speech can therefore refer to two distinct terms: immediately to the thought communicated; mediately to the reality which that thought reproduces. If it refers immediately to the thought being communicated, we have sincerity or lying, according as there is conformity or contrast. If, instead, it refers to external reality through the thought that reproduces it, we have truth or falsity, according as the thought itself is true or false. Thus speech is sometimes both sincere and false: when it expresses, in conformity, a thought that is false through unconscious error. Conversely, it is both lying and true: when, in the lie, a thought that is already false is reversed, so that the external expression of speech comes to accord, without the speaker’s awareness, with the reality of things and is thus true. Similarly, it is not lying to express in conformity a thought that is parabolic, allegorical, or metaphorical in any way. Indeed, the use of metaphorical language, without being morally reprehensible, may constitute an elegance of style.
In short, the essence of lying lies entirely and solely in the immediate relation of contrast between thought and its external communication. For this, neither the different modes of communication nor the different relations—of truth, falsity, or metaphor—by which thought in turn relates to the reality of things are of relevance.
These are all certain notions, fully confirmed by common sense. Everyone considers a liar one who says one thing while thinking another; and no one is considered a liar who, though mistaken, is sincere.
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**II. MORALITY**
To the question: why is lying reprehensible; in what does its moral ugliness consist, many and varied answers have been given. Among them, the most authoritative and convincing is that of St. Augustine (*Enchiridion*, ch. 22).
Man is by nature a social being. His imperfections make him in need of the help of others; his perfections urge him to share them with those who lack them. Hence the natural necessity and 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 uses speech manifests the implicit intention of communicating his own mind. Lying (*locutio contra mentem*) resolves into this flagrant contradiction: being a word, it seeks to achieve the natural end pursued by speech—namely, the communication of one’s thought; being contrary to one’s thought, it betrays that end by communicating to the listener what is, in a different way, in the speaker’s mind. In the intentional betrayal of the natural function of speech lies the moral malice of lying.
Some observations will serve to clarify:
a) The social order of men is twofold, depending on whether it is founded on justice or solely on charity. In the former, the obligation to communicate derives from the right of others to demand it; in the latter, it derives either from charity toward oneself (providing for one’s own needs) or toward others (aiding them in theirs). Speech serves immediately and always the order of charity; only at times and in a secondary way does it also serve that of justice.
b) The moral malice of lying does not presuppose, nor does it derive from, the right of the listener to know the speaker’s thought. Even if that right exists in fact, lying is reprehensible independently of its violation.
c) Neither prudent charity nor, much less, justice obliges one to communicate all one’s thought to everyone. Therefore, neither silence nor speech that withholds the truth of one’s thoughts from others constitutes lying; only speech that, in communicating, positively contradicts it does.
d) The malice of lying is theologically always venial 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 thus 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 only limited and contingent truths. The fault is therefore always venial, unless it is inspired by formal contempt for essential truth in itself or by other gravely illicit ends.
e) Moreover, this venial malice is so intrinsic to lying that it is absurd to conceive of their separation. Not even God could do so; hence theologians affirm that lying is absurd in God and absurd that He would permit it—even once—in man. Indeed, the two contradictory constituents of lying—speech and thought in opposition—constitute precisely that flagrant contradiction of its malice: namely, the betrayal of the natural function of speech. If there is lying, that contradiction necessarily exists; if it is lacking, there is no longer lying. Whence it follows that, since it is not permissible to do evil that good may come, the noblest and most sacred ends can never licitly be attained by the use of lying. If good faith may excuse the subject, it can never justify the act. Hence, playful lying—i.e., lying for a joking purpose—and officious lying—i.e., lying for professional ends—are always illicit. If, moreover, lying is inspired by ends that are in themselves evil, it is not only intrinsically wrong but also bears the specific malice of those ends. This is the classic harmful lie.
### III. MEANS AND NECESSITY OF SOCIAL LIFE
Lying is intrinsically immoral. And yet no one condemns so many false expressions that the necessity of social life imposes. Thus the confessor, when questioned about his penitent, can answer—affirming under oath—that he does not know what he in fact does know. In the same way, one can defend any secret from another’s indiscretion. The physician can calm the anxieties of a gravely ill patient by giving him hope of recovery that he is convinced cannot possibly be nourished. Similar responses defend against imminent dangers threatening ourselves or others. Even out of mere courtesy, recourse is had to many false expressions. Desiring the quiet of home, one has it answered to those who seek us that we are not at home at all. While avoiding the abuse of such expressions, their licitness is admitted by all, even by the learned.
But how is this to be reconciled with the illicit nature of lying? The difficulty is indeed grave. St. Augustine confined himself to enunciating this principle alone: one thing is to lie, another to conceal one’s thought; one thing is to affirm what is false, another not to speak the truth. Indeed, in many cases silence or an evasive phrase will suffice to preserve a secret, elude a threat, or be courteous. But in many other cases, silence or an evasive phrase would precisely betray those ends. Then one cannot remain silent nor evade; one must say something; moreover, one cannot express one’s thought without danger. Is a false response licit in such circumstances? With the great majority of sound-minded men, Catholic doctors answer in the affirmative. They then seek the principle that can justify this without prejudice to the preceding doctrine on lying. Here, many of the justifications advanced are unconvincing. Some are contradictory to the very concept of lying or undermine the foundation of its condemnation. Others, in order to uphold these secure notions, engage in dialectical acrobatics that do not withstand criticism and appear to be ingenious subterfuges. Still others are partially valid in some of the aforementioned situations, but not in all. Among the latter, mental reservation (v.) seems to be counted.
Now here is what is deemed the true reason.
First of all, it should be noted that these expressions are permitted not because, remaining true lies, necessity justifies them. No necessity can render licit what is intrinsically illicit; and such is lying. If these expressions are licit, they can only be so on the supposition that they are not lies. Indeed, those who use them do not have the consciousness of saying or hearing a lie. And they are not lies at all; it will suffice to recall the genuine concept of lying and the foundation of its moral ugliness. Lying exists only in the relation between word and thought, not between word and reality. Therefore a false word may not be a lie. The expressions that concern us are undoubtedly false, but not for that reason lies. To be lies, they would have to contradict the thought. Which is not at all the case.
The moral malice of lying consists entirely in this contradiction; since lying is a word intended to communicate the speaker’s thought, by adulterating that thought it in fact does not communicate II. Thus the natural function of speech is betrayed. Therefore, for a word to be a lie, it must be used according to the natural function of speech, i.e., to communicate the speaker’s thought. This is clearly seen in stage representations, where the actor appears, speaks, and acts as a king while not being one. And yet he does not lie. Why? Because the gesture, word, and action, in those circumstances, are not at all intended to communicate the actor’s thought and mind. And then, how could such a word be a lie, i.e., contradict a thought that it has no pretension of communicating? The same occurs when one speaks not seriously but in jest. The word is then used outside its natural function: it does not intend to signify the jester’s thought. Therefore no one thinks that jokes are lies; even if some consider them lies who have not yet understood their true character as jest.
This is precisely what happens in our case. When necessity imposes the concealment of our thought and an indiscreet interrogation does not allow us to remain silent or evade, our response—whatever it may be—does not at all fulfill the function of communicating our thought. Precisely for this reason—since the necessary presupposition of lying has fallen away—it lies outside its scope. Therefore sensible people—since they do not take these responses seriously—do not give them credence; or at least remain in doubt. But if someone does take them as serious responses, he is naive, just as one would be who mistook a jest for something serious or a stage representation for reality. Or else he is