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— Truthfulness, Lies, and Moral Philosophers: What Can We Learn from Mill and Kant? ALASDAIR MACINTYRE THE TANNER LECTURES ON HUMAN VALUES Delivered at Princeton University April 6 and 7, 1994 ALASDAIR MACINTYRE is Arts and Sciences Professor of Philosophy at Duke University. He was educated at Queen Mary College, University of London, and at the University of Manchester. He taught at various British universities, including Oxford and Essex, until 1970. Since then he has taught at a number of American universities, most recently at Vanderbilt University where he was the W. Alton Jones Professor of Philosophy from 1982 to 1988, and from 1989 to 1994 at the University of Notre Dome, where he was the McMahon/Hank Professor of Philosophy. He is past president of the eastern division of the American Philosophical Association. His numerous publications include Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry (1990), First Principles, Final Ends and Contemporary Philosophical Issues (1990), Whose Justice? Which Rationality? (1988), After Virtue (1981), Secularization and Moral Change (1967), and A Short History of Ethics (1966). When children are still quite young, they learn not one, but two rules concerning truth-telling and lying and these in very different ways. One of those rules they learn by explicit instruction, characteristically when they have first been discovered in a lie. What they are then taught is that ti is wrong to lie, but what the rule is that is invoked notoriously varies from culture to culture and sometimes within cultures. For some lying as such is prohibited. For others some types of lie are permitted or even enjoined, but about which types of lie are permitted or enjoined there are also significant differences. It is not difficult to understand why. Among those types of lie that are often permitted or enjoined in different social orders are certain types of protective lie, lies designed to defend oneself or one's household or community from invasive hostility, perhaps from religious persecutors or witches or the tax-collectors of some alien power, or to shield the vulnerable, perhaps children or the dangerously ill, from knowledge thought to be harmful to them. since who is judged to need protection from what varies from one social and cultural order to another, which of these types of lie are permitted oreenjoined can be expected to vary accordingly. But these are not the only types of exception that are sometimes accorded social recognition and sanction. And, unsurprisingly, reflection upon how the rule that provides for such different types of exception should be formulated and justified commonly gives rise to controversy. Consider as on contributor to those controversies a moral tradition that belongs to the background history of our own moral culture. One of the earlier statements of that tradition, often appealed to later on, is in Book III of the Republic (382c-d), where Socrates is represented as describing some lies as useful against enemies or for the prevention of evils. Some Greek patristic theologians, among them St. Clement of Alexandria, held similarly that on occasion untruths might be told, for example, to protect the Christian community from the invasive enquiries of persecutors. About precisely what classes of untruths were permitted they and later writers sometimes differ from each other, and they also disagree among themselves in the precise [309] 310 The Tanner Lectures on Human Values statement of the view that they share, some saying that all lying is prohibited, but that an untruth told for a just reason is not a lie, others that some lying is not prohibited. Newman in summarizing their shared standpoint emphasized that all of them agree that the occurrence of such a just reason “is, in fact, extreme, rare, great, or at least special" (Apologia pro Vita Sua, note G). Modern exponents of this view, he adds, include John Milton, Jeremy Taylor, and St. Alfonso di Liguorio. None of these were, of course, consequentialists. Their position was expressed succinctly by Samuel Johnson: "The general rule is, that Truth should never be violated, because it is of the utmost importance to the comfort of life, that we should have a full security by mutual faith ….... There must, however, be some exceptions. If, for instance, a murderer should ask you which way a man is gone, you may tell him what is not true, because you are under a previous obligation not to betray a man to a murderer .... But I deny the lawfulness of telling a lie to a sick man for fear of alarming him. You have no business with consequences; you are to tell the truth" (James Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, June 13, 1784). John Milton, Jeremy Taylor, and Alfonso di Liguorio would all have agreed with Johnson that there is indeed an hierarchical ordering of duties and obligations and that any type of exception to an otherwise universal binding rule can be justified only as required by some other binding rule that is superior in that ordering. But Johnson's statement suggests at the very least consequentialist questions. If there is indeed an ordering of duties and obligations, what is the principle by which they are ordered, if it is not a consequentialist principle? The consequentialism of J. S. Mill, for example, was intended to provide, by means of the principle enjoining the promotion of the greatest happiness of the greatest number, a standard for just such an ordering. What an evaluation of consequences by means of that principle is to tell us is which binding rules in practice at least have no exceptions (or almost so; see the penultimate paragraph of chapter 5 of Utilitarianism) -the rules prescribing justice, for example [MACINTYRE] Truthfulness, Lies, and Moral Philosophers - and which do have a few well-defined classes of exception, such as that otherwise prohibiting lying. And the onus seems to be on the adherents of Johnson's Christian anticonsequentialism to offer us an alternative and rationally superior principle of ordering. Moreover, if the rule prescribing truthfulness is to be defended as Johnson defends it, further consequentialist questions are raised. Conformity to the rule prescribing truth-telling seems for Johnson to be a means to a further end, what Johnson calls "the comfort of life," a necessary condition for which is "that we should have full security by mutual faith." But insofar as this rule is treated only as a means to some such further end, no matter how important, the possibility of evaluating the consequences of making a few well-defined exceptions to it has been opened up. And once again we need to know why we should not move to some more general consequentialist position, such as Mill's. 311 One answer to this question may well be that I have only reached a point at which it seems difficult to reply to consequentialist claims, because I erred in my starting point. I began after all by considering the kinds of explicit rules that are taught to young children when they are first detected in a lie, perhaps at three or four years of age, and at once noted that often such rules allow for exceptions to the general prohibition of lying. But, it may be said, I ought to have begun with another, more fundamental exceptionless rule, one learned somewhat earlier and not by explicit instruction. This is the rule prescribing truth-telling that we all learned to follow by learning to speak our native language, whatever it is. That rule governs speech-acts of assertion. To assert is always and inescapably to assert as true, and learning that truth is required from us in assertions is therefore inseparable from learning what it is to assert. So two Danish philosophers of language, H. Johansen and Erik Stenius, suggested that “the utterance of a falsehood is really a breach of a semantic rule” (Erik Stenius, "Mood and Language Games," Synthèse 17, no. 3 [1967), 269), although Stenius understood the relevant rule as one concerning what he called the language-game of reporting, while in fact it is assertion
