Dear Mr. Harris,
In the Introduction section of your short e-book Lying, you recall wtih fondness how taking a college course called "The Ethical Analyst" accomplished "as close to a firmware upgrade of my brain as I have ever experienced." A bit further on, you describe the experience of taking that course as "one of the clearest examples in my own life of the power of philosophical reflection." I have had numerous similar experiences in my life -- mostly through reading -- and I can vouch personally for the view that new conceptual understandings can have truly profound effects on a person's entire approach to life, relationships, values, etc. I think Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. was getting at something similar when he reputedly said: "Man's mind, stretched to a new idea, never goes back to it's original dimensions." So I want to first thank you for giving me more than one of those "eureaka" moments in your books, blog posts and YouTube lectures. I have had this experience with numerous authors -- dead and living -- and it is one of the half-dozen or so things that I can say "I live for."
I read Lying today after receiving an e-mail from you announcing the fall release of a new hardcover edition of the book and inviting readers to submit comments or questions for your consideration. The book left me in the uncomfortable position of having to confront -- once again -- a silent deception that I have been living in my own life for about eight years now. Truth be told (!), I confront this deception just about every day of my life. The dull but constant nagging it places on my every waking moment is of course one of the primary costs that lying places on all liars. I often tell myself that I would much prefer to let the truth be more widely known. But then I convince myself I have "good reasons" for maintaining the deception.
Some quick background. I went to the Air Force Academy where we were all expected to live the Cadet Honor Code, which states: "We will not lie, steal or cheat, nor tolerate among us anyone who does." In my professional life, I am a practicing attorney in a very small law firm in Colorado Springs. Lawyer jokes and bad apples aside, I can assure you that most lawyers take very seriously their "duty of candor" to the legal system and to opposing parties. It is absolutely the case that our legal system is dependent upon truth-telling for its legitimacy. (For this reason, perjury prosecutions are extremely important -- even when (especially when) brought against powerful people for "politcial" reasons.) Finally, I am actively involved with my son in the Boy Scouts of America. We make a very big point in our troop of emphasizing the character development aspects of scouting, most importantly perhaps, the requirement that "A Scout is trustworthy." Bottom line: I have told my share of the white lies that we all have told in our lives. And I can think of one major time in my life when I engaged in terrible dishonesty and betrayal of a sort that really hurt people I care about. But for the most part, I think I can look at myself honestly (!) in the mirror and say: I do strive for the Boy Scout ideal of trustworthiness.
Ironically, it is in this very context -- Boy Scouting -- where I am dealing with the moral dilemma that I am writing to you about.
I am an atheist. I am also a registered scout leader in my son's troop. The Boy Scouts of America does not allow atheists to be scouts or adult leaders. I have to keep my atheism to myself. Yet, by merely belonging to an organization that requires its members to obey their 'Duty to God', my silence becomes a form of deception.
You might be wondering: why would you want to be involved with an organization that does not accept such a fundamental aspect of your identity? The answer requires that a distinction be made between what I like to call "big bad BSA," on the one hand, and the way Boy Scouts is experienced on the troop level (i.e., neighborhood level), on the other hand. I am frankly ashamed of "big bad BSA's" policies against gays and atheists. On the other hand, the day-to-day experience of Boy Scouting -- particularly as my son and I experience it on the troop level -- has been one of the great experiences of my life. I can think of no better program for young boys. My son and I have built a lifetime of memories in the eight years we have been doing this together. He is maturing into an impressive young man. Boy Scouts is a very big part of that. The families we have grown close to in our scout troop are among the best people I have known in my entire life. He is learning about citizenship, survival skills in the outdoors, a respect for the environment, leadership, honesty, and a host of other important skills and character traits. What is not to love?
I am not ashamed to be an atheist. Not by any stretch. I do not even think I am all that "secretive" about it. My relatives all know it. My business associates all know it. I strongly suspect most of the families in our troop know it. I think the overwhelming majority of those families could care less.
As for my son (almost 14 years old), I very much want him to make his own choice in this area. But his mother and I have given him no religious instruction of any kind and it seems fairly obvious that he finds both organized religion and the stories of the Judeo-Christian Bible to be more than a little odd (putting it mildly). He and I are both more or less free to keep doing what we are doing in the troop.
So at this point, you might be wondering: what's the problem? Here it is: At some point, when my son is ready to make his Eagle Scout rank, he will be sitting in what is called a "Board of Review" in front of a panel of strangers from "big bad BSA." They are going to ask him, point blank: "So tell us how you discharge your 'Duty to God' in your day-to-day life." (Part of the Scout Oath). "Tell us how you are 'Reverent' in your daily life." (Part of the Scout Law.) I think about this moment in his life almost every day. I even -- very briefly -- considered getting him involved with the local Unitarian-Universalist church just so he will have a response to those questions that will be both truthful and acceptable to the Boy Scouts.
Part of me wants him to lie.
How might I justify that? On page 40 of Lying, you write that the temptation to lie is "often born of an understanding that others will disapprove of our behavior. Often, there are good reasons why they would." (Emphasis mine). But what if others will disapprove of our behavior (or opinions) for bad reasons? What right do they have to the truth in that case?
I think "big bad BSA" is flat wrong to have its policies against gays and atheists. My son and I have invested eight years of our lives (including Cub Scouts) in the program at the neighborhood level. He has about two more years to go before his Eagle rank. I think it is flat wrong that BSA would deny him his Eagle rank over a matter of his personal conscience (much less over a matter of his father's personal conscience). But I fear he will be denied his Eagle rank when the moment of truth (!) arrives. I am fairly certain he will not lie about it. But I have to be honest (!) and say again that part of me will want him to.
I don't suppose there is an "out" for this situation.
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