Lies are never forthcoming enough to show themselves as what they are. Sometimes a lie is nothing more that a placation; a concession to the god of friendship or love. Sometimes a lie is nothing less than validation of vociferous vicissitudes in what used to be a homage to those same gods. But, pop-culture alliteration notwithstanding, lies have gotten a bad rap. Almost like how our society cannot use the word irony correctly, we have been taught to teach that all lying is bad. Never have you heard you parent or teacher or friend sticking up for a lie. “Lying is bad,” and “Don’t do it.” That’s all we have to go on. No explanation, other than the good old lessons learned through cause and effect. “If I get caught lying…” is our only incentive not to. Some incentive. Fear of punishment is as naive an incentive to do no wrong, as anything I can come up with here. In most cases however, this is not incentive to do right, but a challenge to not get caught doing wrong. If one is given an inane creed or doctrine to follow, the chances of the response being inane as well, are pretty high.
The levels and types of lies are as varied and innumerable as a complete color spectrum. We’ve all heard of the ‘little white lie’ and the ‘bold faced lie.’ Where we seem to come into real trouble, is with the idea of ‘lying with silence.’ The withholding of information to lessen trouble, or to not start any in the first place, or to keep said information for a much rainier day, is deemed to be a lie in itself. A lie, according to dictionary.com, is either a noun or a verb. Remember, a noun is a person, place or thing, while a verb is something that expresses an action, or a state of being–reference action–between two things. So, a lie involves participation on both ends; the liar, and the liee (if you will permit me.) I guess you could be an ass and claim that keeping quiet is an act in itself, but then please explain to me why we call it ‘running,’ instead of ‘actively not sitting down.’ Our language allows the use of the negative to describe something, but the use of language as an asinine diversion makes you just that; an ass.
This topic isn’t a new one, not will it ever be finished. The ideals and forays into Ethics have led philosophers down this path many-a-time. And trapped them just as often. The Kantian inability to extricate the liar to the murderer at the door, is a perfect, if not the prime example. If one should not lie, then I should tell the murderer that my friend is indeed in the back room; and probably ask him in and hang his coat for him as well. I mean, since we’re going to be ethical in this situation, we might as well be polite too. Tea?
So how does one describe a permissible lie, or condone lying at all? I don’t know. My reactions to such things have been emotive, not rational. But surely, there is a way. There has to be another way. Human ethical action, to human digestive system–though both include the word human–is like a dog barking to said dog’s hair growth. The right to knowledge and the ethical permissibility of a lie cannot boil down to the visceral responses of those involved. It just can’t. The mere thought turns my stomach and leaves a sour taste in the back of my mouth.
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