1.1Genuine Falsehoods and Falsehood in Words
It will be helpful to begin with a brief explanation of some key Greek terms. In contemporary philosophy, “truth” usually relates to propositions. However, in ancient philosophy and ancient common usage, the Greek word for “truth,” alētheia (adj. = alēthēs), can have broader applications. Plato’s locution “true in word and deed” illustrates this (Resp. 2.382e8; cf. 2.383a4–5). Presumably, being “true in word” means that one is honest and that what one says is the case, while being “true in deed” means that one has integrity and that the way one presents oneself is accurate. Although broader applications of “truth” are not as pronounced in English philosophy, they are not alien to English linguistic practice—for example, Felipe can be a “true friend,” he can apply “tried and true methods,” and his “aim can be true.”2
In opposition to alētheia is pseudos adj. = pseudēs), which is ambiguous between “lie,” “fiction,” and “falsehood.” Lies and fictions differ from falsehoods in that the former concepts relate to the speaker’s state of mind and intention, while falsehoods do not. The concept of falsehood only picks out the fact that the content is false. Fictions differ from lies in that the author of fiction isn’t presenting the content as true as a liar would. For example, whereas J. K. Rowling doesn’t want you to actually believe that Hogwarts is a real place, the deceptive used-car salesman wants you to believe that the lemon is a diamond in the rough.3 So, all instances of pseudos involve falsehood, but not all instances involve deception or storytelling. Accordingly, the context determines whether “lie,” “fiction,” or “falsehood” is appropriate.
That Plato is tolerant not only of falsehood but also of lies is clear from Socrates’ discussion with Cephalus in Book 1 of the Republic. Cephalus tells Socrates that wealth is important for good and orderly people because it allows them to be just and thus allows them to secure a good afterlife. He explains, “Not cheating or lying to someone against one’s will [τὸ γὰρ μηδὲ ἄκοντά τινα ἐξαπατῆσαι ἢ ψεύσασθαι], not owing a sacrifice to some god or money to a person, and as a result departing for that other world in fear—the possession of wealth makes no small contribution to this” (1.331b1–4). Socrates responds by pointing out that justice isn’t simply a matter of speaking the truth or paying whatever debts one has incurred (1.331c). He says,
Everyone would surely agree that if a man borrows weapons from a sane [sōphronountos] friend, and if he [i.e. the lender] goes insane [maneis] and asks for them back, the friend should not return them, and wouldn’t be just if he did. Nor should anyone be willing to tell the whole truth to someone in such a state [οὐδ᾽ αὖ πρὸς τὸν οὕτως ἔχοντα πάντα ἐθέλων τἀληθῆ λέγειν].
(331c5–8)
It is clear that this passage isn’t speaking about the permissibility of fiction, so why think it permits lying? After all, the passage only explicitly permits not telling the whole truth, which differs from lying. However, the context of this passage makes it clear that not telling the truth is equivalent to lying. This is because Cephalus’ account of justice at 331b includes not lying; hence, for Socrates’ objection to work he must give an account in which lying or its equivalent is just, which means we must treat not telling the whole truth as equivalent to lying.
Socrates clarifies the useful pseudos he has in mind in Book 2. Socrates and Adeimantus have been discussing the merits of the current educational system, which centers on the poems of Hesiod, Homer, and others. Socrates assesses how the poets depict the gods and whether this account is both true and proper for educational purposes. Socrates examines three aspects of the gods as presented by the poets. First, the poets represent the gods as causing both badness and goodness (379a–380a). Socrates finds this objectionable, arguing that because the gods are completely good, they can only cause goodness (379c; Leg. 10.900c–d, 12.941b). Second, the poets depict the gods as changing forms (380c–d). Socrates finds this problematic because the gods cannot alter themselves. The gods are already in the best condition; any alteration from that condition would be a change into something worse (381b–c). Third, the poets represent the gods as deceiving humans by presenting themselves as something that they are not. Socrates asks, “But may we suppose that while the gods themselves are incapable of change, they make us believe that they appear in many shapes, deceiving and practicing magic upon us?” (381e8–10). Adeimantus responds, “Perhaps” (381e11). Surprised by Adeimantus’ response, Socrates asks, “What? Would a god be willing to deceive [pseudesthai], either in word or deed, by presenting an illusion?” (382a1–2).
When Adeimantus expresses uncertainty (382a3), Socrates attempts to identify a kind of deception or falsehood that no god or human would accept. Socrates says, “Don’t you know that all gods and humans hate at least the true falsehood [τό γε ὡς ἀληθῶς ψεῦδος], if one can put it this way?” (382a4–5).4 The paradoxical name, “true falsehood,” confuses Adeimantus (382a6). Socrates clarifies himself by explaining that “no one willingly deceives [pseudesthai] the most authoritative part [tōi kuriōtatōi] of himself about the most authoritative things [ta kuriōtata], but everyone most of all fears accepting it [i.e. falsehood] there” (382a7–9). Understandably, Adeimantus is still quite puzzled (382a10).
Socrates attributes this confusion to Adeimantus mistakenly, thinking that he is saying something profound or holy (semnos). Socrates explains that he simply means that “to deceive [pseudesthai] and to have deceived [epseusthai] one’s soul about realities [ta onta], and to be ignorant [amathē], and to have [echein] and to hold [kektēsthai] the falsehood [to pseudos] there, is what everyone would least of all accept, and it is in that case, that they hate it most of all” (382b1–4). Surprisingly, Adeimantus says that he understands (382b5).
Now that Socrates has Adeimantus’ agreement, he attempts to justify his use of the paradoxical name “true falsehood” by contrasting it with a “not altogether pure falsehood” (οὐ πάνυ ἄκρατον ψεῦδος) (382c1–2). He explains that the former occurs when one has ignorance (agnoia) in one’s soul (382b6–8), while the latter is a “kind of imitation [mimēma] in words [logois] of the condition [pa...
