Nova et vetera

Christopher Tollefsen’s new book, Lying and Christian Ethics, is a significant contribution not only to the literature on lying in general, but also more specifically to the Thomistic-Augustinian perspective about the morality of lying. Tollefsen’s main thesis is a defense of the absolute view that lying is always wrong. In light of the unpopularity of his view, even in Catholic circles, and widespread criticism from other scholars, Tollefsen is to be commended for standing behind his arguments and charitably addressing opposing concerns. This book is the culmination of an intense debate that raged a few years ago in the journals Public Discourse and First Things on this very issue: Is lying always wrong? Tollefsen’s book is his magisterial answer to that query: One ought never to lie. For these aforementioned reasons, Tollefsen’s book belongs high on the list of books about lying, even though his core argument seems lacking.

Tollefsen’s assessment of arguments against the absolute view can be divided in general into two types: 1) those who outright reject the absolute view and 2) those who do not outright reject it but wish to modify the definition of lying so as to allow for you to do what you normally could not do under the traditional absolute view. Regarding [End Page 1045] the first, Tollefsen gives an insightful analysis into the Christian case against the absolute view. John Cassian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and Reinhold Niebuhr are the key Christian proponents of the view that lying can and needs to be done in certain difficult situations. Yet, what perhaps has gone unnoticed by many, including myself, is that these Christians who defended lying still admitted that lying is an evil action. In difficult circumstances, one may be permitted to lie and one even should lie, yet lying still remains as evil as ever before. “In the tradition of which Cassian is an important representative … there are genuine cases of necessity in which one must act in a way that is imperfect, guilty, sinful—yet nevertheless to repeat, one must act in this way” (62). Bonhoeffer also holds that, though one may lie, one still “bear[s] guilt for charity’s sake” (70). Niebuhr holds a similar view that, in some situations, evil must be done. Tollefsen’s analysis here serves as a poignant reminder to any Christian who wishes to defend lying: many Christians who denied the absolute view admitted that a lie was still a lie and that one incurred guilt in telling it.

The second view, those who wish to hold to the absolute view but yet redefine lying, Tollefsen adeptly addresses in Chapter 1. One way around the traditional absolute view is that, for example, since the Nazis have no “right to know” whether you are hiding Jews, you may tell them “I am not hiding Jews” without lying. For a lie is only a lie to one who has the right to know. Tollefsen points out various problems with this view: “A stranger has no right against you for the truth about what you had for breakfast. … But it seems manifestly a lie to assert that you had something other than what you did in fact have” (29). The “right to know” view is also against the magisterium. Catholic tradition has held for over a thousand years that lying (as understood without the “right to know” qualifier) is always wrong. Further, the new Catechism of the Catholic Church, as the editio typica, has no such “right to know” qualifier. Lying is always wrong, full stop. This editio typica requires pious assent. Various other excellent arguments are leveled against the “right to know” view. His criticisms are quite compelling; if you wish to continue to hold to the “right to know” redefinition do not read this book.

Chapters 7 and 8 are particularly helpful in assessing more practical objections to the absolute view: for example, if you cannot lie, then what exactly can you tell the Nazis at the door? Does...