What’s wrong with lying?

Michael Prinzing
The Practical Philosopher
4 min readFeb 16, 2020

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Some people think it’s always wrong to lie. Others seem to think it’s often totally fine. Can we split the difference?

Imagine a man who is tempted to lie to his wife about where he has been all night. In fact, he has been out drinking with his buddies, while his wife was taking care of their children. He is quite confident that, if he tells her that he was working late, she will believe him. On the other hand, if he tells her the truth, she will be upset with him. Suppose he gives in to this temptation and lies to his wife. What, if anything, is wrong with this?

Immanuel Kant argued that lying is always wrong because it violates his “categorical imperative”. The categorical imperative, which Kant considered to be the single, ultimate moral principle, states that one should only act in such a way that the “maxim” of one’s action can be universalized. This means that you shouldn’t do something that would lead to a contradiction if everyone tried to do it. In our example, the maxim of the man’s action would be “to deceive his spouse in order to avoid her displeasure”. This is not universalizable because, if everyone lied whenever it would make others respond more favorably to them, then we would all expect to be lied to and so would not believe others. This would prevent people from lying to avoid another’s ire. Universalizing the maxim leads to a contradiction. Thus, lying is categorically impermissible. Indeed, Kant infamously claims that it is wrong even to lie to the murderer who asks where the would-be victim is.

Speaking for myself, I find this view extremely counter-intuitive (that’s a polite way of saying crazy). It seems like a form of obsessively relentless rule-following. While lying is often wrong, it’s not wrong always and everywhere, under all possible circumstances. So, let’s consider what a very different ethical theory would say.

Act utilitarianism treats actions individually (as tokens), rather than types of actions categorically. Whether a particular lie is permissible will depend on what its consequences are. If the good consequences outweigh the bad, then it is permissible (even required). Vice versa if the reverse holds. Returning to our example, what are the probable consequences of lying to one’s wife about where one has been? On the one hand, there is the benefit of not upsetting her. That’s good for both parties. Learning that he’s been off having fun will upset the wife, which will be unpleasant for her. She, in turn, will make things unpleasant for the husband. Lying avoids these bad consequences. However, lying also risks damaging their relationship. It threatens the trust that is necessary for such relationships — which are highly valuable. So, if the wife will find out about the lie, and this will fracture the relationship, then lying is wrong. If not, however, then lying is permissible and perhaps required.

Act utilitarianism, it seems to me, swings the pendulum too far in the direction opposite from Kant. While Kant was too demanding in prohibiting lying under any conditions, act utilitarianism is too permissive, allowing or requiring one to lie too often. While it’s permissible to lie in some cases (e.g., to the ax murderer at the door), it’s not permissible to lie to one’s friends and loved ones whenever it’s convenient and they won’t find out.

There is, however, another kind of ethical theory that promises to split the difference between these two extremes. Aristotle would want to put the issue of whether to lie in terms of virtues and vices. A disposition to not lie seems to spread itself across a number of virtues. Not lying in business dealings would fall under justice. And not lying to one’s friends would fall under friendship. This would cover our example. The husband should not lie to his wife because the virtuous (friendly) thing to do is tell loved ones the truth.

I find this approach much more compelling. While it prohibits lying in the kinds of cases that posed a problem for act consequentialism, it also allows them in the kinds of cases that posed a problem for Kant. When an ax murder at the door asks whether the would-be victim is inside, what vice might one display by lying? Assuming that the murder is not a friend, it’s would not be unfriendly. Assuming one has not entered into some kind of nefarious arrangement with the murderer, it would not be unjust. Indeed, it would seem to be shamefully obsequious to give the murderer the information that she wants. Whether it would be wrong to lie depends on the context, and what traits of character one displays in lying.

In sum, it seems that virtue theory does rather well in explaining when and why lying is wrong. Sometimes, when a person lies, it reveals a defect in their character. For instance, when one lies to one’s spouse about staying out drinking. These are also the cases where lying seems wrong. Sometimes, when a person lies, it reveals no defect, and may even reveal a virtue. For instance, to save a would-be victim from being attacked. In those cases, it’s not wrong to lie.

So, when you’re tempted to lie, ask yourself these questions:

What traits of character would I exemplify by doing this? Is that really the sort of person I want to be?

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