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.
V.
THE PLEA OF "NECESSITY."
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 sinful
_per se_, but simply becomes sinful by its misuse or untimeliness; for
if it be sinful _per 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 is _not_ the 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 sin _per 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."
VI.
CENTURIES OF DISCUSSION.
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 sin _per 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's _Real-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's _Real-Encyc_., II., art. "Ismael R."]
And Isaac Abohab, an eminent Spanish rabbi, in his _Menorath
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, Discourse
II., I.]