Another Footnote to Sam
According to Shiffrin, although people who lie are often also engaging in deception, people can in some cases deceive others, and wrongfully deceive others, without lying to them, and can lie to others, wronging them, without deceiving them. That lying and deception can come apart, she argues, shows that the wrong of deception is distinct from the wrong of lying. Deceiving focuses on the psychological state of the target of the deception, whereas lying focuses on the psychological state of the person lying.
In deceiving another, I treat them as a mere means, manipulating them in the pursuit of ends that they do not share. The wrong is one of manipulating and abusing the trust of another human being for ends that she does not share. In lying, I act on a principle (a "Maxim") that could not be endorsed by others insofar as they are committed to interacting with dignity and respect. If everyone accepted and acted on my reasons for lying, communication itself would break down, and we would become unable to function as rational and moral agents -- as the autonomous choosers that we are. Thus, in acting on my reasons to lie, I am making myself an exception to the rule that people who respect other people adhere to, in this way effectively treating all others as mere means.
Crucial to her account; moreover, is the idea that in certain contexts, which she labels justified suspended contexts, we can utter falsehoods without doing anything wrong, just as in certain contexts, e.g. justified self-defense, we can kill someone without doing anything wrong. Lying is unjustified utterance of falsehoods, just as murder is unjustified killing. On this understanding of the Kantian approach, it IS true that we should never lie, just as it is true that we should never commit murder, but it is ALSO true that in many contexts we should, or at least permissibly can, utter falsehoods, just as in certain cases we perhaps should, or permissibly can, kill another. The murderer at the door scenario, for example, is on her view such a justified suspended context, in which I can justifiably utter a falsehood without lying.
One question that arises for me is why not make it that uttering falsehoods, under every circumstance, is morally wrong. To me, it seems like the initial stance that Kant puts forth with the murderer at the door is a more effective "rule" in dictating relations at a macro-scale (within a given society). By arguing for exceptions that would render uttering falsehoods permissible, is it not weakening the principle of truthfulness itself? Who gets to determine what is justified in suspending the rule of truth in a given context? Would a CEO of a company be permitted to utter a falsehood to shareholders where the truth would destroy the firm and the livelihoods of all the people working in it? I'm sure they would think that they are justified in their lies. This is not to make malleable the justification of uttering falsehoods, or to say that anyone who utters falsehoods is devoid of morality. I just think that the standard needs to be ironclad, and not subject to exception in order for it to be a genuine virtue that people pursue. Undoubtedly, we all fall short in this pursuit, but the rule has to be clear so we know what direction we are even heading in. I think that Shiffrin's comments on the simplicity of the dominant view concerning the implications of duress during promise-making is indicative of the fact that the "rule" should be set and we should just strive to maintain it.
ReplyDeleteHey Shiraz - a little uncomfortable with what your comment seems to be suggesting. I understand your concern that permitting exceptions to truth-telling could risk undermining the moral weight of truthfulness. However, I think your framing dangerously implies that when we fall short of truth, it is because we are obviously not perfectly moral agents all of the time (implying that no falsehood can have good moral significance, which I think is untrue). We have to acknowledge that truth itself may, at times, be in genuine moral tension with other important values (justice, mutual support, equality, etc). To unconditionally prioritize truth over all other virtues is to wrongfully pedestal it above values like justice, care, and mutual protection, as though moral life were governed by a single axis. But true moral integrity often requires weighing the tensions between these virtues, not subordinating them to a rigid and context-blind commitment to truthfulness.
DeleteShiffrin explicitly allows for the suspension of the presumption of truthfulness “in situations where we have other worthwhile purposes for communication that involve or are consistent with suspending the presumption of truthfulness” (33). This formulation is not a careless opening for manipulation or self-interest, but rather a recognition of the morally plural space in which human beings operate. Your argument implies that to prioritize anything other than truth is to weaken the virtue itself. But Shiffrin’s point, and one I would elaborate further, is that truthfulness does not exist in a vacuum. Sometimes, suspending truthfulness serves a deeper ethical purpose. As she writes, “with respect to information that would further the recipient’s seriously immoral end as such, an end like murder, I contend we should regard the presumption of truthfulness as justifiably suspended” (33). In such cases, the act of withholding truth is not a retreat from morality, but a reassertion of it in light of broader moral aims like justice, protection, and mutual support for an innocent victim.
To treat truth as an inviolable rule, regardless of context, may offer conceptual clarity, but it risks moral blindness. You suggest that Kant’s rigid stance in the murderer-at-the-door case is more effective for guiding societal behavior on a macro scale. Perhaps… but effective at what cost? Is it truly desirable to enshrine a rule that would have us assist in a murder simply to maintain moral consistency? Elevating truthfulness to an absolute disregards the tangible consequences of such a stance, particularly in a world with so much injustice, exploitation, and abuse of power (as Mea touches on). Why should the cost of preserving truth be borne by the vulnerable, when it is precisely in these moments that other virtues (mutual support, justice, care) should take precedence? I understand the worry that allowing exceptions opens the door to self-serving rationalizations, but the answer is not to dismiss all exceptions outright. Rather, we must take on the more demanding task of discerning when and why truthfulness must yield to other moral goods. To insist that falsehood is always morally wrong, regardless of purpose or consequence, is to place truth above all other virtues without adequate justification. That, too, is a kind of moral failure in my eyes.
Thanks Professor Hurley for making the distinction between Shifrin’s account of lying and deception. That said, reading Shiffrin has left me with several questions about how these ideas might (or might not) apply when the person being lied to or deceived is ourself (dun dun duuunn). Here are some half-baked initial thoughts that I'd love to get people's opinions on:
ReplyDeleteOn her account, lying involves (1) asserting a falsehood, (2) knowing it to be false, and (3) intending that someone believe it… can a person really lie to themselves in this way? If we apply that definition internally, lying to oneself would mean consciously asserting something to oneself that one knows is false, and trying to convince oneself to believe it. But is that even psychologically possible? Can one part of the self simultaneously know something is false and intend to (or just do) believe it as true? Wouldn’t that be like trying to surprise yourself with your own birthday party? Curious to hear what people think about this…
To me, the idea of deceiving oneself feels more intuitive largely because it’s something we seem to do all the time. We rationalize bad behavior, avoid hard truths, and reinterpret events to protect a more flattering or less painful self-narrative. Self-deception isn’t about intentionally asserting a known falsehood to oneself but it operates through subtler mechanisms like motivated reasoning, selective attention, or emotional resistance. In this way, self-deception is also what I’d call epistemically slippery. We might not necessarily intend to believe something false, but we allow ourselves to slide into false belief by failing to interrogate our reasons or examine our motives. There may be no clear "lie" involved, but there is still a failure of epistemic responsibility.
This raises important questions about the harm of deception when directed inward. When we deceive others, we manipulate their beliefs in pursuit of ends they do not share, treating them as tools for achieving our own goals. But self-deception, in many ways, mirrors this dynamic. We manipulate our own perception by filtering out inconvenient evidence or shielding ourselves from insights that would demand moral reckoning or difficult change. In doing so, are we treating ourselves as a mere means by exploiting our capacity for belief to secure emotional comfort, psychological safety, or avoidance?
And then there’s the idea of justified suspended contexts in which uttering a falsehood is justifiable. That makes me wonder: could there be internal equivalents to these contexts? Are there moments when even if it’s not ideal, we can justifiably utter falsehoods to ourselves? Maybe in the face of trauma, grief, or psychological overload?
This also raises questions about moral development. Shiffrin’s account suggests that honest communication is a precondition for moral community and development. But what if self-deception (or lying to ourselves if we can actually do it) blocks our ability to enter into that kind of community in the first place? If I can’t be honest with myself about my actions, my values, or my responsibilities, how can I engage in genuine and honest dialogue with others?
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