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."