Are Lies Only Told by Liars?
by Roshi Hogen Berman
I perceive a liar as someone taking mental and verbal action with the
intention of making another party believe something that isn't true. Granted,
often the one telling the story may believe it is true, and therefore they are
being truthful, but if it is not true, then it is still a lie. This however
does not necessarily make the storyteller a liar, it just means the story is
not a truth.
Once a Buddhist Monk told me a story he sometimes relates to the survivors,
i.e. sons, daughters and other relatives, of a person who has recently died.
He tells them The Buddha lived to be 80 years old, then he too met death and
entered Parinirvana - although it was well within his power to live at least
another twenty years or more. He states, "The Buddha elected to terminate this
earthly life twenty years early because he viewed his work completed and
desired to give up his remaining years of earthly life so the Brothers (the
Brotherhood of Monks - i.e. The Sangha) could inherit them and thus have more
time, if needed, to experience their own full enlightenment and Buddhahood."
Regarding the relatives of the deceased, it is then suggested that the parent
may also have had the power to have enjoyed more time here in this earthly
life but they, like The Buddha, elected to cut it short in the hope of
transferring any remaining years that would have normally been theirs to the
children. Additionally, the deceased may have perceived this as an opportune
time, in the life of their children, for the distribution of any inheritance
the deceased's death may bring. Expressing, in perhaps a roundabout way, what
greater love could parents show for their children than to give up years of
this earthly life for their benefit.
The intent of this story, as told by the Monk to the relatives of the deceased
is apparent. It is hoped the children would realize the death of the parents
was just another expression of parental love for their offspring and concern
for their happiness in this life. It is a story that is supposed to bring out
the love and pride in the children for their deceased parents.
Now, we may listen to this story and readily think it is not true since seldom
do we have control over the moment death will knock on our door. But, we must
also consider the intentions of the Monk; he believed he was performing an act
of kindness in attempting to alleviate the suffering of the relatives, and
particularly the offspring over the loss of the deceased family member. Even
if we knew for a fact the story is not exactly true (although in some cases it
might be a truth); if it is a lie, under these conditions we probably would
consider the Monk's action as well meaning and compassionate and not criticize
him for lying.
On the other hand, when the same Monk relates this story to a group of serious
students of The Buddha's Dharma, his intentions can no longer be taken as an
act of kindness, but possibly as one to deceive them regarding the Buddhist
teachings. The students are not in a state of mourning and do not require that
their spirits be raised. They are there to learn the truths this Monk is
supposed to be teaching. Surely an alert student would raise some questions as
to why the Monk would tell such a group this tale.
One of the first questions to be raised would be the suggestion The Buddha had
the power to extend his life span 20 more years. If one believes he did, then
he, The Buddha, could no longer be viewed as an ordinary man. He would have to
be viewed as a God or Deva. It grows even worse when it is suggested that the
parents of the children had a similar power that they forfeited for the
benefit of their children. In his final sermon to the Brotherhood, The Buddha
once again emphasized his own human-ness and the necessity for him to
terminate as all processes do in their time.
We should also consider the possibility that the Monk had been told this story
by his teacher and thought it to be true. Thus in telling it, in both cases
outlined herein, he was at least being truthful and not intentionally telling
a lie. Of course there is also the possibility he fabricated the entire tale
and was deceiving both the surviving children and the students. However, we
can see that in the first instance his intentions were kindness and in the
second case it is difficult to figure out what he could have been thinking.
It is the responsibility of each of us to consider these instances and conduct
our own individual evaluation. Here is the exact same story being told, but on
two distinctly different occasions, different times, perhaps different places
and most certainly to different people. In one case we recognize, our hearts
reach out with compassion and sympathy. While in the second case we may very
well object to an almost childlike romanticization of The Buddha's Dharma.
However, it seems there is at least one lesson to be learned from this tale;
things are not always black and white, right or wrong, good or bad. The same
act may be judged by the community as wholesome at one moment and unwholesome
the next; a kindness to one group of beings may be an insult to another. Also
there is the question of which is the most important; truth or truthfulness?
Life certainly is not easy, is it?
The so-called white lie seems to be the cause of much anguish for the
idealistic moralist, while the utilitarian moralists assume they are harmless.
In many cases, depending upon the depth of one's experience in life and degree
of familiarity with a language, both, to some degree, may consider them
morally acceptable.
The problem with white lies arises when the idealist is asked to qualify them
with language and activity. The utilitarian has no such problem since he will
suggest the white lie is trivial and harmless, and speech, in general, would
become boring and dry was it not on occasion spiced with a small exaggeration
or white lie. The second problem then surfaces; if one accepts the utilitarian
point of view, who establishes the standard by which we can distinguish
clearly which is trivial to another party and which is a serious issue?
Unfortunately there is no such standard and since we can never really know the
inner workings of another's mind, the decision as to what is trivial and
serious is left to the one about to relate the little white lie. Obviously we
can see that one is biased. A third problem arises as the one who has
developed the habit of telling these little white lies must start formulating
slightly bigger lies to support the white lies already told. Soon they become
lost in a bamboo thicket made up of truths, half-truths, white lies and
perhaps big supporting lies. It may be that as the borderline between the
so-called harmless white lie and the truth broadens, the teller continues to
see them as trivial. While the receivers, if they discover them, may consider
them major issues in his life that have caused him to make poor decisions
concerning future actions and life's circumstances. The receiver may have been
robbed of the ability to accurately evaluate the true conditions that make up
their life. A major impact will be the receiver's loss of trust and
confidence in the transmitter and the realization that their freedom to make
valid decisions about life have been stolen.
On these bases we then must question the viewpoint of the utilitarian
moralists concerning the acceptability of the white lie. Further, and possibly
of even greater importance, we should contemplate on how we can avoid
developing the habit of telling little white lies and concurrently remain kind
and considerate of other living beings. The latter could present a quandary in
your life.
In one sense truth appears to simply be a matter of relating what one
remembers as being true. Thus, what appears to be a truth (in this sense) to
one, may appear to be an untruth to another with a different viewpoint and
memory. Also, to tell what we may know to be a partial truth may be as wrong
as telling an out right lie.
In another sense it is necessary to "know" one INTENDS to deceive or mislead
before we can say, "That is a lie." In fact the statement issued may be an
untruth, but from the viewpoint of the sender not a lie. He may be stating
what is remembered or what he has been told relative to the situation, thus he
is being truthful although relating what may be untrue. We cannot know for
certain unless we are sure of his intentions at that moment, and this may be
impossible. Even when the sender tells a tale with the intention to deceive,
we cannot know if the motive is evil or kindness, thus we still must be
cautious in our condemnation.
So, it would appear one may be truthful, i.e. relating, from his point of view
all that he remembers, but concurrently not telling the real whole truth. In
this case, when the truth is finally determined perhaps our great wisdom will
give us the power to distinguish between error, truthfulness and lying. On the
other hand he may be telling, with intent, a barefaced lie, but with a motive
of kindness towards us or other beings, then our judgment should be tempered
with compassion and understanding. It appears the possibilities in these
instances are endless, they go on and on; all because we, mankind, desires to
judge the actions of our fellow human beings. Why is it we cannot realize that
this, as with most desires, is bound to be frustrating and simply lead us to
more and more suffering and unsatisfactory conditions in our lives. The
desire to render judgments in circumstances involving knowing another's
conscious thoughts just leads us into a great quagmire.
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