It would seem to be clear that the Bible, and also the other sacred books of the world, and the best moral sense of mankind everywhere, are united in deeming a lie incompatible with the idea of a holy God, and consistent only with the spirit of man's arch-enemy—the embodiment of all evil. Therefore he who, admitting this, would find a place in God's providential plan for a "lie of necessity" must begin with claiming that there are lies which are not lies. Hence it is of prime importance to define a lie clearly, and to distinguish it from allowable and proper concealments of truth.
A lie, in its stricter sense, is the affirming, by word or by action, of that which is not true, with a purpose of deceiving; or the denying, by word or by action, of that which is true, with a purpose of deceiving. But the suppressing or concealing of essential facts, from one who is entitled to know them, with a purpose of deceiving, may practically amount to a lie.
Obviously a lie may be by act, as really as by word; as when a man is asked to tell the right road, and he silently points in the wrong direction. Obviously, also, the intention or purpose of deceiving is in the essence of the lie; for if a man says that which is not true, supposing it to be true, he makes a misstatement, but he does not lie; or, again, if he speaks an untruth playfully where no deception is wrought or intended, as by saying, when the mercury is below zero, that it is "good summer weather," there is no lie in the patent untruth.
So far all are likely to be agreed; but when it comes to the question of that concealment which is in the realm of the lie, as distinct from right and proper concealment, there is more difficulty in making the lines of distinction clear to all minds. Yet those lines can be defined, and it is important that they should be.
A witness on the stand in a court of law is bound by his oath, or his affirmation, to tell "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," in the testimony that he gives in response to the questions asked of him. If, therefore, in the course of his testimony, he declares that he received five dollars for his share in a certain transaction, when in reality he received five hundred dollars, his concealment of the fact that he received a hundred times as much as he admits having received, is practically a lie, and is culpable as such. Any intentional concealment of essential facts in the matter at issue, in his answers to questions asked of him as a witness, is a lie in essence.
But a person who is not before a court of justice is not necessarily bound to tell all the facts involved to every person whom he addresses, or who desires to have him do so; and therefore, while a concealment of facts which ought to be disclosed may be equivalent to a lie, there is such a thing as the concealment of facts which is not only allowable, but which is an unmistakable duty. And to know when concealment is right, and when it is wrong, is to know when concealment partakes of the nature of a lie, and when it is a totally different matter.
Concealment, so far from being in itself a sin, is in itself right; it is only in its misuse that it becomes reprehensible in a given case. Concealment is a prime duty of man; as truly a duty as truth-speaking, or chastity, or honesty. God, who cannot lie to his creatures, conceals much from his creatures. "The secret things belong unto the Lord our God: but the things that are revealed belong unto us and to our children for ever,"[1] says the author of Deuteronomy; and the whole course of God's revelation to man is in accordance with this announced principle of God's concealment of that which ought to be concealed. He who is himself the revelation of God says to his chosen disciples, even when he is speaking his latest words to them before his death: "I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now;"[2] and he conceals what, as yet, it is better for them should remain concealed.
[Footnote 1: Deut. 29: 29.]
[Footnote 2: John 16:12.]
There is a profound meaning in the suggestion, in the Bible story of man's "fall," that, when man had come to the knowledge of good and evil, the first practical duty which he recognized as incumbent upon himself, was the duty of concealment;[1] and from that day to this that duty has been incumbent on him. Man has a duty to conceal his besetting impurities of thought and inclinations to sin; to conceal such of his doubts and fears as would dishearten others and weaken himself by their expression; to conceal his unkindnesses of spirit and his unjust prejudices of feeling; to conceal, in fact, whatever of his innermost personality is liable to work harm by its disclosure, and to a knowledge of which his fellows have no just claim. In the world as it is, there is more to be concealed than to be disclosed in every individual life; and concealment rather than disclosure is the rule of personal action.
[Footnote 1: Gen. 3:6, 7.]
Absolute and unrestricted frankness in social intercourse would be brutal. The speaking of the whole truth at all times and to everybody could have neither justification nor excuse between man and man. We have no right to tell our fellows all that we think of them, or fear for them, or suspect them of. We have no right to betray the confidences of those who trust us, or to disclose to all the fact that we have such confidences to conceal. We have no right to let it be generally known that there are such peculiar struggles within us as make our lives a ceaseless battle with temptations and fears and doubts. There is such a thing as an indecent exposure of personal opinions, and as a criminal disclosure of the treasures of the inner life.[1] How to conceal aright that which ought to be concealed, is one of the vital questions of upright living.
[Footnote 1: See 2 Kings 20: 12-19.]
The duty of right concealment stands over against the sin of lying. Whatever ought to be concealed, should be concealed, if concealment is a possibility without sinning. But the strongest desire for concealment can never justify a lie as a means of concealment; and concealment at the cost of a lie becomes a sin through the means employed for its securing. On the other hand, when disclosure is a duty, concealment is sinful, because it is made to stand in the way of the performance of a duty. Concealment is not in itself wrong, but it may become wrong through its misuse. Lying is in itself wrong, and it cannot be made right through any seeming advantage to be gained by it.
Concealment which is right in one instance may be wrong in another instance, the difference being in the relations of the two parties in the case. A man who has lost a leg or an eye may properly conceal from others generally the fact of his loss by any legitimate means of concealment. His defect is a purely personal matter. The public has no claim upon him for all the facts in the premises. He may have an artificial limb or an artificial eye, so constructed as to conceal his loss from the ordinary observer. There is nothing wrong in this. It is in the line of man's primal duty of concealment. But if a man thus disabled were applying for a life-insurance policy, or were an applicant for re-enlistment in the army, or were seeking employment where bodily wholeness is a requisite, it would be his duty to make known his defect; and the concealment of it from the parties interested would be in the realm of the lie.
So, again, if a man were proposing marriage, or were entering into confidential relations with a partner in business, or were seeking financial aid from a bank, he would have no right to conceal from the party interested many a fact which he could properly conceal from the public.
A man who would be justified in concealing from the general public his mental troubles, or his business embarrassments, or his spiritual perplexities, could not properly conceal the essential facts in the case from his chosen adviser in medicine, or in law, or in matters of religion. It is a man's duty to disclose the whole truth to him who has a right to know the whole truth. It is a man's right, and it may become his duty, to conceal a measure of the truth from one who is not entitled to know that portion of the truth, so far as he can properly make concealment. But as a lie is never justifiable, it is never a proper means of concealment; and if concealment be, in any case, a mode of lying, it is as bad as any other form of lying.
But concealment, even when it is of facts that others have no right to know, may cause others to be deceived, and deliberate deceit is one form of a lie. How, then, can concealment that is sure to result in deception be free from the sin that invariably attaches to a lie in any form, or of any nature whatsoever?
Concealment which is for thepurposeof deception, is one thing; concealment which is only for the purpose of concealment, but which is sure toresultin deception, is quite another thing. The one is not justifiable, the other may be. In the one case it is a man's purpose to deceive his fellow-man; in the other case it is simply his purpose to conceal what his fellow-man has no right to know, and that fellow-man receives a false impression, or deceives himself, in consequence.
We may, or we may not, be responsible for the obvious results of our action; and the moral measure of any action depends on the measure of our responsibility in the premises. A surgeon, who is engaged in an important and critical operation, is told that he is wanted elsewhere in a case of life and death. If he sees it to be his duty to continue where he is because he cannot safely leave this case at this time, he obviously is not responsible for results which come because of his absence from the side of the other sufferer. A man is by a river bank when a boy is sinking before his eyes. If the man were to reach out his arms to him, the boy might be saved. But the man makes no movement in the boy's behalf, and the boy drowns. It might seem as though that man were responsible for that boy's death; but when it is known that the man is at that moment occupied in saving the life of his own son, who is also struggling in the water, it will have to be admitted that the father is not responsible for the results of his inaction in another sphere than that which is for the moment the sphere of his imperative duty.
If a wife and mother has to choose between her loving ministry to her sick husband and to her sick child, and she chooses that which she sees to be the more important duty of the hour, she is not responsible for any results that follow from her inability to be in two places at the same time. A man with a limited income may know that ten families are in need of money, while he can give help to only two of them. Even though others starve while he is supplying food to all whom he can aid, he is not responsible for results that flow from his decision to limit his ministry to his means.
In all our daily life, our decision to do the one duty of the hour involves our refusal to do what is not our duty, and we have no responsibility for the results which come from such a refusal. So in the matter of the duty of concealment, if a man simply purposes the concealment from another of that which the other has no right to know, and does not specifically affirm by word or act that which is not true, nor deny by act or word that which is true, he is in no degree responsible for the self-deception by another concerning a point which is no proper concern of that other person.
Others are self-deceived with reference to us in many things, beyond our responsibility or knowledge. We may be considered weaker or stronger, wiser or more simple, younger or older, gladder or sadder, than we are; but for the self-deception on that point by the average observer we are not responsible. We may not even be aware of it. It is really no concern of ours—or of our neighbor's. It is merely an incident of human life as it is. We may have an aching tooth or an aching heart, and yet refrain from disclosing this fact in the expression of our face. In such a case we merely conceal what is our own possession from those who have no claim to know it. Even though they deceive themselves as to our condition in consequence of our looks, we are not responsible for their self-deception, because they are not possessed of all the facts, nor have they any right to them, nor yet to a fixed opinion in the case.
If a man were to have a patch put on his coat, he might properly have it put on the under side of the coat instead of the outer side, thus making what is called "a blind patch," for the purpose of concealing the defect in his garment. Even though this course might result in a false impression on the mind of the casual observer, the man would not be blameworthy, as he would be if he had pursued the same course with a purpose of deceiving a purchaser of the coat. So, again, in the case of a mender of bric-a-brac: it would be right for him to cement carefully the parts of a broken vase for the mere purpose of concealing its damaged condition from the ordinary eye, but not for the purpose of deceiving one who would be a purchaser.
A man whose city house is closed from the public in the summer season, because of his absence in the country, has a perfect right to come to that house for a single night, without opening the shutters and lighting up the rooms in intimation of his presence. He may even keep those shutters closed while his room is lighted, for the express purpose of concealing the fact of his presence there, and yet not be responsible for any false impression on the minds of passers-by, who think that the proprietor is still in the country, and that the city house is vacant. On the other hand, if the house be left lighted up all through the night, with the shutters open, while the inmates are asleep, for the very purpose of concealing from those outside the fact that no one in the house is awake and on guard, the proprietor is not responsible for any self-deception which results to those who have no right to know the facts in the case.
And so, again, in the matter of having a man's hat or coat on the rack in the front hall, while there are only women in the house, the sole purpose of the action may be the concealment of the real condition of affairs from those who have no claim to know the truth, and not the deliberate deception of any party in interest. In so far as the purpose is merely the concealment from others of the defenseless condition of the house the action is obviously a proper one, notwithstanding its liability to result in false impressions on the minds of those who have no right to an opinion in the case.
While a man would be justified in concealing, without falsehood, the fact of a bodily lack or infirmity on his part which concerned himself alone, he would not be justified in concealing the fact that he was sick of a contagious disease, or that his house was infected by a disease that might be given to a caller there. Nor would he be justified in concealing a defect in a horse or a cow in order to deceive a man into the purchase of that animal as a sound one, any more than he would be justified in slightly covering an opening in the ground before his house, so as to deceive a disagreeable visitor into stumbling into that hole.
It would be altogether proper for a man with a bald head to conceal his baldness from the general public by a well-constructed wig. It would likewise be proper for him to wear a wig in order to guard his shining pate against flies while at church in July, or against danger from pneumonia in January, even though wide-awake children in the neighboring pews deceived themselves into thinking that he had a fine head of natural hair. But if that man were to wear that wig for the purpose of deceiving a young woman, whom he wished to marry, as to his age and as to his freedom from bodily defects, it would be quite a different matter. Concealment for the mere purpose of concealment may be, not only justifiable, but a duty. Concealment for the purpose of deception is never justifiable.
It would seem that this is the principle on which God acts with reference to both the material and the moral universe. He conceals facts, with the result that many a man is self-deceived, in his ignorance, as to the size of the stars, and the cause of eclipses, and the processes of nature, and the consequences of conduct, in many an important particular. But man, and not God, is responsible for man's self-deception concerning points at which man can make no claim to a right to know all the truth.
It is true that this distinction is a delicate one, but it is a distinction none the less real on that account. A moral line, like a mathematical line, has length, but neither breadth nor thickness. And the line that separates a justifiable concealment which causes self-deception on the part of those who are not entitled to know the whole truth in the matter, and the deliberate concealment of truth for the specific purpose of deception, is a line that runs all the way up from the foundations to the summit of the universe. This line of distinction is vital to an understanding of the question of the duty of truth-speaking, and of the sin of lying.
An effort at right concealment may include truthful statements which are likely, or even sure, to result in false impressions on the mind of the one to whom they are addressed, and who in consequence deceives himself as to the facts, when the purpose of those statements is not the deception of the hearer. A husband may have had a serious misunderstanding with his wife that causes him pain of heart, so that his face gives sign of it as he comes out of the house in the morning. The difficulty which has given him such mental anxiety is one which he ought to conceal. He has no right to disclose it to others. Yet he has no right to speak an untruth for the purpose of concealing that which he ought to conceal.
It may be that the mental trouble has already deprived him of sleep, and has intensified his anxiety over a special business matter that awaits his attention down town, and that all this shows in his face. If so, these facts are secondary but very real causes of his troubled look, as he meets a neighbor on leaving his house, who says to him: "You look very much troubled this morning. What's the matter with you?" Now, if he were to say in reply, "Then my looks belie me; for I have no special trouble," he would say what was not true. But he might properly say, "I think it is very likely. I didn't sleep well last night, and I am very tired this morning. And I have work before me to-day that I am not easy about." Those statements being literally true, and being made for the purpose of concealing facts which his questioner has no right to know, their utterance is justifiable, regardless of the workings of the mind of the one who hears them. They are made in order to conceal what is back of them, not in order to deceive one who is entitled to know those primary facts.
If, again, a physician in attendance on a patient sees that there is cause for grave anxiety in the patient's condition, and deems it important to conceal his fears, so far as he can without untruthfulness, he may, in answer to direct questions from his patient, give truthful answers that are designed to conceal what he has a right to conceal, without his desiring to deceive his patient, and without his being responsible for any self-deception on his patient's part that results from their conversation. The patient may ask, "Doctor, am I very sick?" The doctor may answer truthfully, "Not so sick as you might be, by a good deal." He may give this answer with a cheerful look and tone, and it may result in calming the patient's fears.
If, however, the patient goes on to ask, "But, doctor, do you think I'm going to die?" the doctor may respond lightly, "Well, most of us will die sooner or later, and I suppose you are not to be exempt from the ordinary lot of mortals." "But," continues the patient, "do you think I am going to die of this disease?" Then the doctor can say, seriously and truthfully, "I'm sure I don't know. The future is concealed from me. You may live longer than I do. I certainly hope you are not going to die yet awhile, and I'm going to do all I can to prevent it." All this would be justifiable, and be within the limits of truthfulness. Concealment of the opinions of the physician as to the patient's chances of life, and not the specific deception of the patient, is the object of these answers.
In no event, however, would the physician be justified in telling a lie, any more than he would be in committing any other sin, as a means of good. He is necessarily limited by the limits of right, in the exercise of his professional skill, and in the choice of available means. He is in no wise responsible for the consequences of his refusal to go beyond those limits.
Concealment may be, or may not be, of the nature of deception. Concealment is not right when disclosure is a duty. Concealment of that which may properly be concealed is not in itself wrong. Efforts at concealment must, in order to be right, be kept within the limits of strict truthfulness of statement. Concealment for the purpose of deception is in the realm of the lie. Concealment for the mere purpose of concealment may be in the realm of positive duty—in the sight of God and for the sake of our fellows.
It is to be borne in mind that the definitions here given do not pivot on the specific illustrations proffered for their explanation. If, in any instance, the illustration seems inapt or imperfect, it may be thrown aside, and reference made to the definition itself. The definition represents the principle involved; the illustration is only a suggestion of the principle.
The story is told of an old Quaker, who, after listening for a time to the unstinted praises, by a dry-goods salesman, of the various articles he was trying to dispose of, said quietly: "Friend, it is a great pity that lying is a sin, since it seems so necessary in thy business." It has been generally supposed that this remark of the old Quaker was a satirical one, rather than a serious expression of regret over the clashing of the demands of God's nature with the practical necessities of men. Yet, as a matter of fact, there are moral philosophers, and writers on Christian ethics, who seem to take seriously the position assumed by this Quaker, and who argue deliberately that there are such material advantages to be secured by lying, in certain emergencies, that it would be a great pity to recognize any unvarying rule, with reference to lying, that would shut off all possibility of desired gain from this practice under conditions of greatest urgency.
It is claimed that lying proffers such unmistakable advantages in time of war, and of sickness, and in dealings with would-be criminals and the insane, and other classes exempt from ordinary social consideration, that lying becomes a necessity when the gain from it is of sufficient magnitude. Looked at in this light, lying is not sinfulper se, but simply becomes sinful by its misuse or untimeliness; for if it be sinfulper se, no temporary or material advantage from its exercise could ever make it other than sinful.
If, indeed, the rightfulness of lying is contingent on the results to be hoped for or to be feared from it, the prime question with reference to it, in a moral estimate of its propriety, is the limit of profit, or of gain, which will justify it as a necessity. But with all that has been written on this subject in the passing centuries, the advocates of the "lie of necessity" have had to contend with the moral sense of the world as to the sinfulness of lying, and with the fact that lying is not merely a violation of a social duty, but is contrary to the demands of the very nature of God, and of the nature of man as formed in the image of God. And it has been the practice of such advocates to ignore or to deny the testimony of this moral sense of the race, and to persist in looking at lying mainly in the light of its social aspects.
That the moral sense of the race is against the admissibility of the rightfulness of lying, is shown by the estimate of this sin as a sin in the ethnic conceptions of it, even among peoples who indulge freely in its practice, as well as in the teachings of the sacred books of the ages. And, moreover, it isnotthe fact, as is often claimed, that lying is generally admitted to be allowable between enemies in war time, or by a physician to his patient, or by a sane man to one who is insane, or in order to the prevention of crime, or for the purpose of securing some real or supposed advantage in any case.
The right to conceal from the enemy one's weakness, or one's plans, by any exhibit of "quaker guns," or of mock fortifications, or of movements and counter-movements, or of feints of attack, or of surplus watchfires, in time of warfare, is recognized on all sides. But the right to lie to or to deceive the enemy by sending out a flag of truce, as if in desire for a peaceful conference, and following it up with an attack on his lines in an unsuspecting moment, is not admitted in any theory of "civilized warfare." And while a scout may creep within the enemy's lines, and make observations of the enemy's weakness and strength of position, without being open to any charge of dishonorable conduct,—if he comes disguised as a soldier of the other side than his own, or if he claims to be a mere civilian or non-combatant, he is held to be a "spy," and as such he is denied a soldier's death, and must yield his life on the gallows as a deceiver and a liar.
The distinction between justifiable concealment for the mere purpose of concealment, and concealment for the express purpose of deceiving, is recognized as clearly in warfare as in peaceful civil life; and the writer on Christian ethics who appeals to the approved practices of warfare in support of the "lie of necessity" can have only the plea of ignorance as an excuse for his baseless argument.
An enemy in warfare has no right to know the details of his opponent's plans for his overcoming; but his opponent has no right to lie to him, by word or action, as a means of concealment; for a lie is never justifiable, and therefore is never a necessity. And this is admitted in the customs of honorable warfare. Illustrations of this distinction are abundant. A Federal officer, taken prisoner in battle, was brought before a Confederate officer for examination. He was asked his name, his rank, his regiment, his brigade, his division, and his corps. To all these questions he gave truthful answers promptly; for the enemy had a right to information at these points concerning a prisoner of war. But when the question came, "What is the present strength of your corps?" he replied, "Two and a half millions." "That cannot be true," said the Confederate officer. "Do you expect me to tell you the truth, Colonel, in such a matter?" he responded, in reminder of the fact that it was proper for him to conceal facts which the other had no right to know; and his method of concealment was by an answer that was intended to conceal, but not to deceive.
In Libby Prison, during war time, the attempt to prevent written messages being carried out by released prisoners was at first made by the careful examination of the clothing and persons of such prisoners; but this proved to be ineffectual. Then it was decided to put every outgoing prisoner on his word of honor as a soldier in this matter; and that was effectual. A true soldier would require something more than the average treatise on Christian ethics to convince him that a lie to an enemy in war time is justifiable as a "lie of necessity," on the ground of its profitableness.
In dealing with the sick, however desirable it may be, in any instance, to conceal from a patient his critical condition, the difference must always be observed between truthful statements that conceal that which the physician, or other speaker, has a right to conceal, and statements that are not strictly true, or that are made for the explicit purpose of deceiving the patient. It is a physician's duty to conceal from a patient his sense of the grave dangers disclosed to his professional eye, and which he is endeavoring to meet successfully. And, in wellnigh every case, it is possible for him to give truthful answers that will conceal from his patient what he ought to conceal; for the best physician does not know the future, and his professional guesses are not to be put forward as if they were assured certitudes.
If, indeed, it were generally understood, as many ethical writers are disposed to claim, that physicians are ready to lie as a help to their patients' recovery, physicians, as a class, would thereby be deprived of the power of encouraging their patients by words of sincere and hearty confidence. There are physicians whose most hopeful assurances are of little or no service to their patients, because those physicians are known to be willing to lie to a patient in an emergency; and how can a timid patient be sure that his case does not present such an emergency? Therefore it is that a physician's habit of lying to his patients as a means of cure would cause him to lose the power of aiding by truthful assurances those patients who most needed help of this sort.
It is poor policy, as policy, to venture a lie in behalf of a single patient, at the cost of losing the power to make the truth beneficial to a hundred patients whose lives may be dependent on wise words of encouragement. And the policy is still poorer as policy, when it is in the line of an unmistakable sin. And many a good physician like many a good soldier, repudiates the idea of a "lie of necessity" in his profession.
Since lying is sinful because a lie is always a lie unto God, the fact that a lie is spoken to an insane person or to a would-be criminal does not make it any the less a sin in God's sight. And it is held by some of the most eminent physicians to the insane that lying to the insane is as poor policy as it is bad morals, and that it is never justifiable, and therefore is never a "necessity" in that sphere.[1]
[Footnote 1: See, for example, the views of Dr. Thomas S. Kirkbride, physician-in-chief and superintendent of the Pennsylvania Hospital for the Insane, in the Report of that institution for 1883, at pages 74-76. In speaking of the duty of avoiding deception in dealings with the insane, he said: "I never think it right to speak anything but the truth."]
So also in dealing with the would-be criminal, a lie is not justifiable in order to save one's life, or one's possessions that are dearer than life, nor yet to prevent the commission of a crime or to guard the highest interests of those whom we love. Yet concealment of that which ought to be concealed is as truly a duty when disclosure would lead to crime, or would imperil the interests of ourselves or others, as it is in all the ordinary affairs of life; but lying as a means of concealment is not to be tolerated in such a case any more than in any other case.
If a robber, with a pistol in his hand, were in a man's bedroom at night, it would not be wrong for the defenseless inmate to remain quiet in his bed, in concealment of the fact that he was awake, if thereby he could save his life, at the expense of his property. If a would-be murderer were seeking his victim, and a man who knew this fact were asked to tell of his whereabouts, it would be that man's duty to conceal his knowledge at this point by all legitimate means. He might refuse to speak, even though his own life were risked thereby; for it were better to die than to lie. And so in many another emergency.
A lie being a sinper se, no price paid for it, nor any advantage to be gained from it, would make it other than a sin. The temptation to look at it as a "necessity" may, indeed, be increased by increasing the supposed cost of its refusal; but it is a temptation to wrong-doing to the last. It was a heathen maxim, "Do right though the heavens fall," and Christian ethics ought not to have a lower standard than that of the best heathen morality.
Duty toward God cannot be counted out of this question. God himself cannot lie. God cannot justify or approve a lie. Hence it follows that he who deliberately lies in order to secure a gain to himself, or to one whom he loves, must by that very act leave the service of God, and put himself for the time being under the rule of the "father of lies." Thus in an emergency which seems to a man to justify a "lie of necessity" that man's attitude toward God might be indicated in this address to him: "Lord, I should prefer to continue in your service, and I would do so if you were able and willing to help me. But I find myself in an emergency where a lie is a 'necessity,' and so I must avail myself of the help of 'the father of lies.' If I am carried through this crisis by his help, I shall be glad to resume my position in your service." The man whose whole moral nature recoils from this position, will not be led into it by the best arguments of Christian philosophers in favor of the "lie of necessity."
Because of the obvious gain in lying in times of extremity, and because of the manifest peril or cost of truth-telling in an emergency, attempts have been made, by interested or prejudiced persons, all along the ages, to reconcile the general duty of adhering to an absolute standard of right, with the special inducements, or temptations, to depart from that standard for the time being. It has been claimed by many that the results of a lie would, under certain circumstances, justify the use of a lie,—the good end in this case justifying the bad means in this case. And the endeavor has also been made to show that what is called a lie is not always a lie. Yet there have ever been found stalwart champions of the right, ready to insist that a lie is a sinper se, and therefore not to be justified by any advantage or profit in its utterance.
Prominent in the earlier recorded discussions of the centuries concerning the admissibility of the lie, are those of the Jewish Talmudists and of the Christian Fathers. As in the Bible story the standard of right is recognized as unvariable, even though such Bible characters as Abraham and Jacob and David, and Ananias and Sapphira, fail to conform to it in personal practice; so in the records of the Talmud and the Fathers there are not wanting instances of godly men who are ready to speak in favor of a departure from the strictest requirement of the law of truth, even while the great sweep of sentiment is seen to be in favor of the line that separates the lie from the truth eternally.
Hamburger, a recognized Jewish authority in this sphere, represents the teachings of the Talmud as even more comprehensive and explicit than the Bible itself, in favor of the universal duty of truthfulness. He says: "Mosaism, with its fundamental law of holiness, has established the standard of truthfulness with incomparable definiteness and sharpness (see Lev. 19: 2, 12, 13, 34-37). Truthfulness is here presented as derived directly from the principle of holiness, and to be practiced without regard to resulting benefit or injury to foe or to friend, to foreigner or to countryman. In this moral loftiness these Mosaic teachings as to truthfulness pervade the whole Bible. In the Talmud they receive a profounder comprehension and a further development. Truthfulness toward men is represented as a duty toward God; and, on the other hand, any departure from it is a departure from God."[1]
[Footnote 1: Hamburger'sReal-Encyclopadie für Bibel und Talmud, I., art. "Truthfulness" (Wahrhaftigkeit).]
As specimen illustrations of the teachings of the Talmud on this theme, Hamburger quotes these utterances from its pages: "He who alters his word, at the same time commits idolatry." "Three are hated of God: he who speaks with his mouth otherwise than as he feels with his heart; he who knows of evidence against any one, and does not disclose it," etc. "Four cannot appear before God: the scorner, the hypocrite, the liar, and the slanderer." "'A just measure thou shalt keep;' that is, we should not think one thing in our heart, and speak another with our mouth." "Seven commit the offense of theft: he who steals [sneaks into] the good will of another; he who invites his friend to visit him, and does not mean it in his heart; he who offers his neighbor presents, knowing beforehand that he will not receive them," etc.
And Hamburger adds: "Every lie, therefore, however excellent the motive, is decidedly forbidden…. In the tract Jebamoth, 63, Raba blames his son for employing a 'lie of necessity'(nothlüge)to restore peace between his father and his mother…. It is clear that the Talmud decidedly rejects the principle that 'the end justifies the means.'"[1]
[Footnote 1: Compare also art. "Falseness"(Falscheit).]
On the other hand, Hamburger cites Rabbi Ishmael, one of the Talmudists, as teaching that a Jew might transgress even the prohibition of idolatry (and lying is, according to Talmudic teaching, equivalent to idolatry) in order to save his life, provided the act was not done in public. In support of his position, Rabbi Ishmael cited the declaration concerning the statutes of Moses in Leviticus 18: 5, "which if a man do he shall live in them," and added by way of explanation: "He [the Israelite] is to live through the law, but is not to die through it."[1]
[Footnote 1: See Hamburger'sReal-Encyc., II., art. "Ismael R."]
And Isaac Abohab, an eminent Spanish rabbi, in hisMenorath Hammaor[1] gives other illustrations from the Talmud of the advocacy of special exceptions to the strict law of truthfulness, with a good purpose in view, notwithstanding the sweeping claim to the contrary by Hamburger. He says: "Only when it is the intention to bring about peace between men, may anything be altered in discourse; as is taught in the tract Jebamoth. Rabbi Ilai says, in the name of Rabbi Jehuda, son of Rabbi Simeon: 'One may alter something in discourse for the sake of establishing harmony.'… Rabbi Nathan says: 'This indeed is a duty.'… Rabbi Ishmael taught: 'Peace is of such importance that for its sake God even alters facts.'" In each of these cases the rabbi cited misapplies a Bible passage in support of his position.
[Footnote 1: See German translation by R.J. Fürstenthal, DiscourseII., I.]
Isaac Abohab adds: "In like manner the rabbis say that one may praise a bride in the presence of her bridegroom, and say that she is handsome and devout, when she is neither, if the intention predominates to make her attractive in the eyes of her bridegroom. Nevertheless a man is not to tell lies even in trifling matters, lest lying should come to be a habit with him, as is warned against in the tract Jebamoth."
Thus it would appear that there were discussions on this subject among the rabbis of the Talmud, and that while there were those who advocated the "lie of necessity," as a matter of personal gain or as a means of good to others, there were those who stood firmly against any form of the lie, or any falsity, as in itself at variance with the very nature of God, and with the plain duty of God's children.
Among the Christian Fathers it was much the same as among the Jewish rabbis, in discussions over this question. The one unvarying standard was recognized, by the clearest thinkers, as binding on all for always; yet there were individuals inclined to find a reason for exceptions in the practical application of this standard. The phase of the question that immediately presented itself to the early Christians was, whether it were allowable for a man to deny to a pagan enemy that he was a Christian, or that one whom he held dear was a Christian, when the speaking of the truth would cost him his life, or cost the life of one whom he loved.
There were those who held that the duty to speak the truth was merely a social obligation, and that when a man showed himself as an enemy of God and of his fellows, he shut himself out from the pale of this social obligation; moreover, that when such a man could be deterred from crime, and at the same time a Christian's life could be preserved, by the telling of an untruth, a falsehood would be justifiable. If the lie were told in private under such circumstances, it was by such persons considered different from a public denial of one's faith. But, on the other hand, the great body of Christians, in the apostolic age, and in the age early following, acted on the conviction that a lie is a sinper se, and that no emergency could make a lie a necessity. And it was in fidelity to this conviction that the roll of Christian martyrs was so gloriously extended.
Justin Martyr, whose Apologies in behalf of the Christians are the earliest extant, speaks for the best of the class he represents when he says: "It is in our power, when we are examined, to deny that we are Christians; but we would not live by telling a lie."[1] And again: "When we are examined, we make no denial, because we are not conscious of any evil, but count it impious not to speak the truth in all things, which also we know is pleasing to God."[2] There was no thought in such a mind as Justin Martyr's, or in the minds of his fellow-martyrs, that any life was worth saving at the cost of a lie in God's sight.
[Footnote 1: First Apology, Chapter 8.]
[Footnote 2: Second Apology, Chapter 4.]
There were many temptations, and great ones, to the early Christians, to evade the consequences of being known as refusers to worship the gods of the Romans; and it is not to be wondered at that many poor mortals yielded to those temptations. Exemption from punishment could be purchased by saying that one had offered sacrifices to the gods, or by accepting a certificate that such sacrifice had been made, even when such was not the fact; or, again, by professing a readiness to sacrifice, without the intention of such compliance, or by permitting a friend to testify falsely as to the facts; and there were those who thought a lie of this sort justifiable, for the saving of their lives, when they would not have openly renounced their Christian faith.[1] There was much discussion over these practices in the writings of the Fathers; but while there was recognized a difference between open apostasy and the tolerance of a falsehood in one's behalf, it was held by the church authorities that a lie was always sinful, even though there were degrees in modes of sinning.
[Footnote 1: See Smith and Cheetham'sDictionary of ChristianAntiquities, art. "Libelli." See also Bingham'sAntiquities of theChristian Church, Book XVI., Chap. 13, Section 5; also Book XVI.,Chap. 3, Section 14; with citations from Tertullian, Origen, andCyprian.]
Ringing words against all forms of lying were spoken by some of the Christian Fathers. Says the Shepherd of Hermas: "Love the truth, and let nothing but truth proceed from your mouth, that the spirit which God has placed in your flesh may be found truthful before all men; and the Lord, who dwelleth in you, will be glorified, because the Lord is truthful in every word, and in him is no falsehood. They, therefore, who lie, deny the Lord, and rob him, not giving back to him the deposit which they have received. For they received from him a spirit free from falsehood. If they give him back this spirit untruthful, they pollute the commandment of the Lord, and become robbers."[1]
[Footnote 1: Book II., Commandment Third.The Ante-Nicene Fathers(Am. ed.), II., 21.]
Tertullian names among "sins of daily committal, to which we all are liable," the "sin" of "lying, from bashfulness [or modesty], or 'necessity.'"[1] Origen also speaks of the frequency of "lying, or of idle talking;"[2] as if possibly its frequency were in some sense an excuse for it. And Origen specifically claimed that the apostles Peter and Paul agreed together to deceive their hearers at Antioch by simulating a dissension between themselves, when in reality they were agreed.[3] Origen also seemed to approve of false speaking to those who were not entitled to know all the truth; as when he says of the cautious use of falsehood, "a man on whom necessity imposes the responsibility of lying is bound to use very great care, and to use falsehood as he would a stimulant or a medicine, and strictly to preserve its measure, and not go beyond the bounds observed by Judith in her dealings with Holofernes, whom she overcame by the wisdom with which she dissembled her words."[4]
[Footnote 1: "On Modesty," Chap. 19.The Ante-Nicene Fathers, XIV., 97.]
[Footnote 2: Origen's Commentaries on Matthew, Tract VI., p. 60; cited in Bingham'sAntiq. of Chr. Ch., Book XVI., Chap. 3.]
[Footnote 3: Gal. 2: 11-14. A concise statement of the influence of this teaching of Origen on the patristic interpretations of the passage in Galatians, is given by Lightfoot in his commentary on Galatians, sixth edition, pp. 128-132.]
[Footnote 4: Quoted from the sixth book of Origen's Miscellanies by Jerome, in his Apology against Rufinus, Book I., § 18. SeeThe Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, second series (Am. ed.), III., 492. See, also, Neander'sGeschichte der Christlichen Ethik, pp. 160, 167.]
There were Christian Fathers who found it convenient to lie, in their own behalf or in behalf of others; and it was quite natural for such mortals to seek to find an excuse for lies that "seemed so necessary" for their purposes. When Gregory of Nyssa, in his laudable effort to bring about a reconciliation between his elder brother Basil and their uncle, was "induced to practice a deceit which was as irreconcilable with Christian principles as with common sense,"[1] he was ready to argue in defense of such a course.
[Footnote 1: Moore'sLife of S. Gregory of Nyssa. The Nicene andPost-Nicene Fathers, second series (Am. ed.), V., 5.]
So again, when his brother Basil was charged with falsehood in a comparatively "trivial" matter, (where, in fact, he had merely been in error unintentionally,) Gregory falls back upon the comforting suggestion, that as to lying, in one way or another everybody is at fault; "accordingly, we accept that general statement which the Holy Spirit uttered by the Prophet, 'Every man is a liar.'"[1] Gregory protests against the "solemn reflections on falsehood" by Eunomius, in this connection, and his seeing equal heinousness in it whether in great or very trivial matters. "Cease," he says, "to bid us think it of no account to measure the guilt of a falsehood by the slightness or importance of the circumstances." Basil, on the contrary, asserts without qualification, as his conviction, that it never is permissible to employ a falsehood even for a good purpose. He appeals to the words of Christ that all lies are of the Devil.[2]
[Footnote 1:Ibid., p. 46.]
[Footnote 2: Neander'sGeschichte der Christlichen Ethik, p. 219.]
Chrysostom, as a young man, evaded ordination for himself and secured it to his dearest friend Basil (who should not be confounded with Basil the Great, the brother of Gregory of Nyssa) by a course of deception, which he afterwards labored to justify by the claim that there were lies of necessity, and that God approved of deception as a means of good to others.[1] In the course of his exculpatory argument, he said to his much aggrieved friend Basil: "Great is the value of deceit, provided it be not introduced with a mischievous intention. In fact, action of this sort ought not to be called deceit, but rather a kind of good management, cleverness, and skill, capable of finding out ways where resources fail, and making up for the defects of the mind…. That man would fairly deserve to be called a deceiver who made an unrighteous use of the practice, not one who did so with a salutary purpose. And often it is necessary to deceive, and to do the greatest benefits by means of this device, whereas he who has gone by a straight course has done great mischief to the person whom he has not deceived."[2]
[Footnote 1: See Smith and Wace'sDictionary of Christian Biography,I., 519 f.; art. "Chrysostom, John."]
[Footnote 2: See Chrysostom's "Treatise on the Priesthood," inTheNicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, first series (Am. ed.), IX., 34-38.]
In fact, Chrysostom seems, in this argument, to recognize no absolute and unvarying standard of truthfulness as binding on all at all times; but to judge lies and deceptions as wrong only when they are wrongly used, or when they result in evil to others. He appears to act on the anti-Christian theory[1] that "the end justifies the means." Indeed, Dr. Schaff, in reprobating this "pious fraud" of Chrysostom, as "conduct which every sound Christian conscience must condemn," says of the whole matter: "The Jesuitical maxim, 'the end justifies the means,' is much older than Jesuitism, and runs through the whole apocryphal, pseudo-prophetic, pseudo-apostolic, pseudo-Clementine, and pseudo-Isidorian literature of the early centuries. Several of the best Fathers show a surprising want of a strict sense of veracity. They introduce a sort of cheat even into their strange theory of redemption, by supposing that the Devil caused the crucifixion under the delusion [intentionally produced by God] that Christ was a mere man, and thus lost his claim upon the fallen race." [2]
[Footnote 1: Rom. 3: 7, 8.]
[Footnote 2: See Dr. Schaff's "Prologemena to The Life and Works ofSt. Chrysostom," inThe Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, first Series(Am. ed.), IX., 8.]
Chrysostom, like Gregory of Nyssa, having done that which was wrong in itself, with a laudable end in view, naturally attempts its defense by the use of arguments based on a confusion in his own mind of things which are unjustifiable, with things which are allowable. He does not seem to distinguish between deliberate deception as a mode of lying, and concealment of that which one has a right to conceal. Like many another defender of the right to lie in behalf of a worthy cause, in all the centuries, Chrysostom essays no definition of the "lie," and indicates no distinction between culpable concealment, and concealment that is right and proper. Yet Chrysostom was a man of loving heart and of unwavering purpose of life. In an age of evil-doing, he stood firm for the right. And in spite of any lack of logical perceptions on his part in a matter like this, it can be said of him with truth that "perhaps few have ever exercised a more powerful influence over the hearts and affections of the most exalted natures."[1]
[Footnote 1: Smith and Wace'sDictionary of Christian Biography, I., 532.]
Augustine, on the other hand, looks at this question, in accordance with the qualities of his logical mind, in its relation to an absolute standard; and he is ready to accept the consequences of an adherence to that standard, whether they be in themselves desirable or deplorable. He is not afraid to define a lie, and to stand by his definition in his argument. He sees and notes the difference between justifiable concealment, and concealment that is for the purpose of deception. "It is lawful then," he says on this point, "to conceal at fitting time whatever seems fit to be concealed: but to tell a lie is never lawful, therefore neither to conceal by telling a lie."[1] In his treatise "On Lying"(De Mendacid),[2] and in his treatise "Against Lying"(Contra Mendaciuni)[3]as well as in his treatise on "Faith, Hope, and Love"(Enchiridion),[4] and again in his Letters to Jerome,[5] Augustine states the principle involved in this vexed question of the ages, and goes over all the arguments for and against the so-called "lie of necessity." He sees a lie to be a sinper se, and therefore never admissible for any purpose whatsoever. He sees truthfulness to be a duty growing out of man's primal relation to God, and therefore binding on man while man is in God's sight. He strikes through the specious arguments based on any temporary advantages to be secured through lying, and rejects utterly the suggestion that man may do evil that good may come.
[Footnote 1:The Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, first series (Am. ed.), IX., 466.]
[Footnote 2:Ibid., III., 455-477.]
[Footnote 3:Ibid., pp. 479-500.]
[Footnote 4:Ibid., pp. 230-276.]
[Footnote 5:Ibid., I., "Letters of St. Augustine."]
The sound words of Augustine on this question, as based on his sound arguments, come down to us with strength and freshness through the intervening centuries; and they are worthy of being emphasized as the expressions of unchanging truth concerning the duty of truthfulness and the sin of lying. "There is a great question about lying," he says at the start, "which often arises in the midst of our everyday business, and gives us much trouble, that we may not either rashly call that a lie which is not such, or decide that it is sometimes right to tell a lie; that is, a kind of honest, well-meant, charitable lie." This question he discusses with fulness, and in view of all that can be said on both sides. Even though life or salvation were to pivot on the telling of a lie, he is sure that no good to be gained could compensate for the committal of a sin.
Arguing that a lie is essentially opposed to God's truth—by which alone man can have eternal life—Augustine insists that to attempt to save another's life through lying, is to set off one's eternal life against the mere bodily life of another. "Since then by lying eternal life is lost, never for any man's temporal life must a lie be told. And as to those who take it ill, and are indignant that one should refuse to tell a lie, and thereby slay his own soul in order that another may grow old in the flesh, what if by our committing adultery a person might be delivered from death: are we therefore to steal, to commit whoredom…. To ask whether a man ought to tell a lie for the safety of another, is just the same as asking whether for another's safety a man ought to commit iniquity."
"Good men," he says, "should never tell lies." "To tell a lie is never lawful, therefore neither to conceal [when concealment is desirable] by telling a lie." Referring to the fact that some seek to find a justification in the Bible teachings for lying in a good cause,—"even in the midst of the very words of the divine testimonies seeking place for a lie,"—he insists, after a full examination of this claim, "that those [cited] testimonies of Scripture have none other meaning than that we must never at all tell a lie."
"A lie is not allowable, even to save another from injury." "Every lie must be called a sin." "Nor are we to suppose that there is any lie that is not a sin, because it is sometimes possible, by telling a lie, to do service to another." "It cannot be denied that they have attained a very high standard of goodness who never lie except to save a man from injury; but in the case of men who have reached this standard, it is not the deceit, but their good intention, that is justly praised, and sometimes even rewarded,"—as in the case of Rahab in the Bible story. "There is no lie that is not contrary to truth. For as light and darkness, piety and impiety, justice and injustice, sin and righteousness, health and sickness, life and death, so are truth and a lie contrary the one to the other. Whence by how much we love the former, by so much ought we to hate the latter."
"It does indeed make very much difference for what cause, with what end, with what intention, a thing be done: but those things which are clearly sins, are upon no plea of a good cause, with no seeming good end, no alleged good intention, to be done. Those works, namely, of men, which are not in themselves sins, are now good, now evil, according as their causes are good or evil…. When, however, the works in themselves are evil,… who is there that will say, that upon good causes, they may be done, so as either to be no sins, or, what is more absurd, to be just sins?" "He who says that some lies are just, must be judged to say no other than that some sins are just, and that therefore some things are just which are unjust: than which what can be more absurd?" "Either then we are to eschew lies by right doing, or to confess them [when guilty of them] by repenting: but not, while they unhappily abound in our living, to make them more by teaching also."
In replying to the argument that it would be better to lie concerning an innocent man whose life was sought by an enemy, or by an unjust accuser, than to betray him to his death, Augustine said courageously: "How much braver,… how much more excellent, to say, 'I will neither betray nor lie.'" "This," he said, "did a former bishop of the Church of Tagaste, Firmus by name, and even more firm in will. For when he was asked by command of the emperor, through officers sent by him, for a man who was taking refuge with him, and whom he kept in hiding with all possible care, he made answer to their questions, that he could neither tell a lie nor betray a man; and when he had suffered so many torments of body (for as yet emperors were not Christians), he stood firm in his purpose. Thereupon, being brought before the emperor, his conduct appeared so admirable that he without any difficulty obtained a pardon for the man whom he was trying to save. What conduct could be more brave and constant?"[1]
[Footnote 1: SeeThe Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, first series(Am. ed.), III., 408.]
The treatise "Against Lying" was written by Augustine with special reference to the practice and teaching of the sect of Priscillianists. These Christians "affirmed, with some other of the theosophic sects, that falsehood was allowable for a holy end. Absolute veracity was only binding between fellow-members of their sect."[1] Hence it was claimed by some other Christians that it would be fair to shut out Priscillianists from a right to have only truth spoken to them, since they would not admit that it is always binding between man and man. This view of truthfulness as merely a social obligation Augustine utterly repudiated; as, indeed, must be the case with every one who reckons lying a sin in and of itself. Augustine considered, in this treatise, various hypothetical cases, in which the telling of the truth might result in death to a sick man, while the telling of a falsehood might save his life. He said frankly: "And who can bear men casting up to him what a mischief it is to shun a lie that might save life, and to choose truth which might murder a man? I am moved by this objection exceedingly, but it were doubtful whether also wisely." Yet he sees that it were never safe to choose sin as a means to good, in preference to truth and right with all their consequences.
[Footnote 1: See Smith and Wace'sDict. of Chris. Biog., IV., 478, art. "Priscillianus."]
Jerome having, like many others, adopted Origen's explanation of the scene between Peter and Paul at Antioch, Augustine wrote to him in protest against such teaching, with its implied approval of deceit and falsehood.[1] A correspondence on this subject was continued between these two Fathers for years;[2] and finally Jerome was led to adopt Augustine's view of the matter,[3] and also to condemn Origen for his loose views as to the duty of veracity.[4] But however Jerome might vacillate in his theory, as in his practice, concerning the permanent obligations of truthfulness, Augustine stood firm from first to last in the position which is justified by the teachings of the Bible and by the moral sense of the human race as a whole,—that a lie is always a lie and always a sin, and that a lie can never be justified as a means to even the best of ends.
[Footnote 1: SeeThe Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, first series(Am. ed.), I., Letters XXVIII., XL.]
[Footnote 2:Ibid., Letters LXVII., LXVIII., LXXII., LXXIII.,LXXIV., LXXV.]
[Footnote 3:Ibid., Letter CLXXX.]
[Footnote 4:The Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, second series (Am. ed.), III., 460 ff.;Rufinus' Apology, Book II.;Jerome's Apology, Book I., p. 492.]
From the days of Chrysostom and Augustine to the present time, all discussions of this question have been but a repetition of the arguments and objections then brought forward and examined. There can be, in fact, only two positions maintained with any show of logical consistency. Either a lie is in its very nature antagonistic to the being of God, and therefore not to be used or approved by him, whatever immediate advantages might accrue from it, or whatever consequences might pivot on its rejection; or a lie is not in itself a sin, is not essentially at variance with the nature of God, but is good or evil according to the spirit of its use, and the end to be gained by it; and therefore on occasions God could lie, or could approve lying on the part of those who represent him.
The first of these positions is that maintained by the Shepherd of Hermas, by Justin Martyr, by Basil the Great, and by Augustine; the second is practically that occupied by Gregory of Nyssa and Chrysostom, even though they do not explicitly define, or even seem to perceive, it as their position. There are, again, those like Origen and Jerome, who are now on one side of the dividing line, and now on the other; but they are not logically consistent with themselves in their opinions or practices. And those who are not consistent usually refrain from explicit definitions of the lie and of falsehood; they make no attempt at distinguishing between justifiable concealment, and concealment for the very purpose of deception.
With all the arguments on this question, in all the centuries, comprised within these well-defined bounds, it were useless to name each prominent disputant, in order merely to classify him as on the one side or on the other, or as zigzagging along the line which he fails to perceive. It were sufficient to point out a few pre-eminent mountain peaks, in the centuries between the fifth and the nineteen of the Christian era, as indicative of the perspective history of this discussion.
Towering above the greatest of the Schoolmen in the later middle ages stands Thomas Aquinas. As a man of massive intellect, of keenness of perception, of consistent logical instincts, and of unquestioned sincerity and great personal devoutness, we might expect him to be found, like Augustine, on the side of principle against policy, in unqualified condemnation of lying under any circumstances whatsoever, and in advocacy of truthfulness at all hazards. And that, as a matter of fact, is his position.
In hisSumma Theologies[1] Aquinas discusses this whole question with eminent fairness, and with great thoroughness. He first states the claims of those who, from the days of Chrysostom, had made excuses for lying with a good end in view, and then he meets those claims severally. He looks upon lies as evil in themselves, and as in no way to be deemed good and lawful, since a right concurrence of all elements is essential to a thing's being good. "Whence, every lie is a sin, as Augustine says in his book 'Against Lying.'" His conclusion, in view of all that is to be said on both sides of the question, is: "Lying is sinful not only as harmful to our neighbor, but because of its own disorderliness. It is no more permitted to do what is disorderly [that is, contrary to the divine order of the universe] in order to prevent harm, than it is to steal for the purpose of giving alms, except indeed in case of necessity when all things are common property [when, for instance, the taking of needful food in time of a great disaster, as on a wrecked ship, is not stealing]. And therefore it is not allowable to utter a lie with this view, that we may deliver one from some peril. It is allowable, however, to conceal the truth prudently, by a sort of dissimulation, as Augustine says." This recognizes the correctness of Augustine's position, that concealment of what one has a right to conceal may be right, provided no lie is involved in the concealment. As to the relative grades of sin in lying, Aquinas counts lying to another's hurt as a mortal sin, and lying to avert harm from another as a venial sin; but he sees that both are sins.
[Footnote 1:Secunda Secundae, Quaestio CX., art. III.]
It is natural to find Aquinas, as a representative of the keen-minded Dominicans, standing by truth as an eternal principle, regardless of consequences; as it is also natural to find, on the other side, Duns Scotus, as a representative of the easy-going Franciscans, with his denial of good absolute save as manifested in the arbitrary will of God. Duns Scotus accepted the "theory of a twofold truth," ascribed to Averroes, "that one and the same affirmation might be theologically true and philosophically false, andvice versa." In Duns Scotus's view, "God does not choose a thing because it is good, but the thing chosen is good because God chooses it;" "it is good simply and solely because God has willed it precisely so; but he might just as readily have willed the opposite thereof. Hence also God is not [eternally] bound by his commands, and he can in fact annul them."[1] According to this view, God could forbid lying to-day and justify it to-morrow. It is not surprising, therefore, that "falsehood and misrepresentation" are "under certain circumstances allowable," in the opinion of Duns Scotus.
[Footnote 1: See Kurtz'sChurch History(Macpherson's Translation), II., 101, 167-169; Ueberweg'sHistory of Philosophy, I., 416, 456 f.; Wuttke'sChristian Ethics(Am. ed.), I., 218, Sec. 34.]
So, all along the centuries, the religious teacher who holds to the line between truth and falsehood as an eternal line must, if logically consistent, refuse to admit any possible justification of lying. Only he who denies an eternally absolute line between the true and the false could admit with consistency the justification by God of an act that is essentially hostile to the divine nature. Any exception to this rule is likely to be where a sympathetic nature inclines a teacher to seek for an excuse for that which seems desirable even though it be theoretically wrong.
When it comes to the days of the Protestant Reformation, we find John Calvin, like his prototype Augustine, and like Augustine's follower Aquinas, standing firmly against a lie as antagonistic to the very nature of God, and therefore never justifiable. Martin Luther, also, is a fearless lover of the truth; but he is disposed to find excuses for a lie told with a good end in view, although he refrains from asserting that even the best disposed lie lacks the element of sinfulness.[1] On the other hand, Ignatius Loyola, and his associates in the founding of the Society of Jesus as a means of checking the Protestant Reformation, acted on the idea that was involved in the theology of Duns Scotus, that the only standard of truth and right is in the absolute and arbitrary will of God; and that, therefore, if God, speaking through his representative in the newly formed Society, commands the telling of a lie, a lie is justifiable, and its telling is a duty. Moreover, these Jesuit leaders in defining, or in explaining away, the lie, include, under the head of justifiable concealment, equivocations and falsifications that the ordinary mind would see to be forms of the lie.[2]
[Footnote 1: See Martensen'sChristian Ethics, p. 216. Compare, for example, Luther's comments on Exodus I: 15-21, with Calvin's comments on Genesis 12: 14-20.]
[Footnote 2: See Symonds'sRenaissance in Italy, I., 263-267;Cartwright'sThe Jesuits; Meyrick'sMoral Theology of the Churchof Rome; Pascal'sProvincial Letters. See, also, Kurtz'sChurchHistory, II., 430.]
It is common to point to the arguments of the Jesuits in favor of lies of expediency, in their work for the Church and for souls, as though their position were exceptional, and they stood all by themselves in including falsehood as a means to be employed rightfully for a good end.
But in this they are simply logically consistent followers of those Christian Fathers, and their successors in every branch of the Church, who have held that a lie for righteous purposes was admissible when the results to be secured by it were of vital importance. All the refinements of casuistry have their value to those who admit that a lie may be right under certain conceivable circumstances; but to those who, like Augustine and Aquinas, insist that a lie is a sinper se, and therefore never admissible, casuistry itself has no interest as a means of showing when a sin is not sinful.[1]
[Footnote 1: Hence the casuistry of the Schoolmen and of the Jesuits, and the question of Mental Reservations, and of "Probabilities," are not treated in detail here.]
Some of the zealous defenders of the principles and methods of the Jesuits affirm that, in their advocacy of dissimulation and prevarication in the interests of a good cause, the Jesuits do not intend to justify lying, but are pointing out methods of proper concealment which are not within the realm of the lie. In this (waiving the question whether these defenders are right or not as to the fact) they seem even more desirous of being counted against lying than those teachers, in the Romish Church or among Protestants, who boldly affirm that a lie itself is sometimes justifiable. Thus it isclaimedby a Roman Catholic writer, in defense of the Jesuits, that Liguori, their favorite theologian, taught "that to speak falsely is immutably a sin against God. It may be permitted under no circumstances, not even to save life. Pope Innocent III. says, 'Not even to defend our life is it lawful to speak falsely;'" therefore, when Liguori approves any actions that seem opposed to truthfulness, "he allows the instances because they are not falsehood."[1] On the other hand, Jeremy Taylor squarely asserts: "It is lawful to tell a lie to children or to madmen, because they, having no powers of judging, have no right to the truth."[2]
[Footnote 1: See Meyrick'sMoral Theology of the Church of Rome,Appendix, p. 256 f.]
[Footnote 2: Jeremy Taylor'sDuctor Dubitantium, in his Works, X., 103.]
But Jeremy Taylor's trouble is in his indefinite definition of "a lie," and in his consequent confusion of mind and of statement with reference to the limitations of the duty of veracity. He writes on this subject at considerable length,[1] and in alternation declares himself plainly first on one side, and then on the other, of the main question, without even an attempt at logical consistency. He starts out with the idea that "we are to endeavor to be like God, who is truth essentially;" that "God speaks truth because it is his nature;" that "the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testament do indefinitely and severely forbid lying," and "our blessed Saviour condemns it by declaring every lie to be of the Devil;" and that "beyond these things nothing can [could] be said for the condemnation of lying." All that certainly is explicit and sound,—as sound as Basil the Great, as St. Augustine, or as Thomas Aquinas!
[Footnote 1: Jeremy Taylor'sDuctor Dubitantium, in his Works, X., 100-132.]
When he attempts the definition of a lie, however, Jeremy Taylor would seem to claim that injustice toward others and an evil motive are of its very essence, and that, if these be lacking, a lie is not a lie. "Lying is to be understood to be something said or written to the hurt of a neighbor, which cannot be understood [by the hearer or reader] otherwise than to differ from the mind of him that speaks." As Melanchthon says, "To lie is to deceive our neighbor to his hurt." "If a lie be unjust, it can never become lawful; but if it can be separate from injustice, then it may be innocent."
Jeremy Taylor naturally falls back on the Bible stories of the Hebrew midwives and Rahab the harlot, and assumes that God commended their lying, as lying, because they had a good end in view; and he asserts that "it is necessary sometimes by a lie to advantage charity by losing of a truth to save a life," and that "to tell a lie for charity, to save a man's life, the life of a friend, of a husband, of a prince, of an useful and a public person, hath not only been done in all times, but commended by great and wise and good men." From this it would appear that lying, which Jeremy Taylor sets out with denouncing as contrary to God's nature, and as declared by our Saviour to be always of the Devil, may, under certain circumstances, be a godly sin. Gregory of Nyssa and young Chrysostom could not have done better than this in showing the sinlessness of a sin in a good cause.