As Tory MPs prepare today to vote over the future of Boris Johnson as leader of their party and this country, I offer simply the following reflection, taken from my book of Quiet Days, Seeking the Way, due out very soon, on the theme of truth and integrity.
Is it justifiable, sometimes, to tell a white lie? Of course it is? There are occasions when an economy with truth is clearly better than
potentially causing hurt and harm. The problem is that one lie can lead to another, the first time being the hardest, after which the
boundaries can increasingly become stretched. Does it matter? Is the truth really so important? What’s wrong with lying so long as it
doesn’t actually hurt in anyone? It’s questions such as these that I explore in the following reflection.
Reflection
‘It wasn’t me,’ she said. ‘Honestly!’ And I believed her. But I was wrong to do so. For it was her, and she wasn’t being honest at all.
Only I couldn’t condemn her, for I’d done the same myself, too many times to mention: twisting the truth to suit my purposes, hiding it to
save my blushes, denying it to escape censure or recrimination.
And I said to the Teacher, ‘Speak to me of deceit.’
‘Those whose path is honest,’ the Teacher replied, ‘have nothing to fear; those with something to hide will be exposed.’
And I saw that though lying may seem to our advantage, ultimately it is the road to ruin, for however much we may try to hide the truth, it finds us out, and though we strive to ignore it, it gnaws away within. Better, then, to admit our mistakes than run from them; to come clean than be smeared with dirt later.
Then I said to the Teacher, ‘Why, then, do we lie? Teach me about truth and falsehood and where they lead us.’
And the Teacher answered, ‘A corrupt person earns an illusory profit; the one who sows honestly reaps a clear reward. What is gained dishonestly may taste sweet for a moment, but later it will seem as though your mouth is full of grit. A good name is preferable to wealth; respect to gold or silver. An honest answer is as special as a passionate kiss.’
I saw, then, that trust is easily broken but hard to restore, and that once we have proven false, few will believe us true. For if we dissemble in little, then why not in much? And if we deceive in small things, why not also in large?
I saw, too, that though some lies can be innocent enough, told to save from hurt or protect from awkwardness, most deception aims to hide the truth rather than shield people from it. What we cannot gain by right we gain by stealth. What we struggle to win by fair means we win instead by foul.
Yet when we deceive others we deceive also ourselves, and though the prize may be great the cost is greater, for deceit diminishes us as people and robs us of self-respect – the larger the falsehood the smaller we become. Better to enjoy a little honourably than to live a lie. Better to earn trust than dishonest gain, a good name than a poor reputation.
I saw also that deceitfulness damages not just us but others; that it undermines trust and destroys friendships, unfairly blames and falsely slanders, one falsehood leading to another.
My conclusion, therefore, is this: let your mouth speak truth and your lips desist from falsehood, for should you fail to earn trust in a little, you will fail to earn it at all. Dishonesty may seem to pay, but honesty pays better, for though it gain you the world, deceit will return as a thief in the night to rob you of your very soul.