I found myself feeling vexed at something that happened in the 1930s. Don’t worry—I don’t often fume over 80-year-old news. But in this case, I think my indignation was justifiable.

I had been reading a book about the events leading up to World War II. As blood-thirsty Nazi Germany gathered strength to ravage Europe, the British government buried its head deep in the sand. British leaders desperately wanted to believe that a Great War would never be repeated—so desperately that they chose to ignore the mounting evidence that Hitler was a deadly menace. It is not unreasonable to speculate that their willful ignorance—in the face of repeated warnings by Winston Churchill and others—cost the lives of millions.

The culpable refusal of some of Britain’s leaders to believe Hitler’s murderous intentions provides a dramatic example of the ethics of belief. That is, we are obligated not only to report what is true, but also to believe what is true—or, at least, to refuse to believe what is false.

Thou Shalt Not . . . Believe a Lie?

Yes, you read it right: believing what is false can be as immoral as reporting what is false. Granted, we don’t find “Thou shalt not believe a lie,” among the Ten Commandments. But other biblical passages oblige us to believe the truth and warn against believing what is false. The “simpleton” of the book of Proverbs is faulted for his gullibility: “The simple believes everything,” Solomon counsels, “but the prudent gives thought to his steps” (Proverbs 14:15). Likewise, Paul urges his readers, “Let no man deceive you with vain words” (Ephesians 5:6). Jesus himself rebuked his disciples for being “foolish ones and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken”—clearly implying that they were at fault for failing to believe the truth.

Initially, this concept may be a little tough for us to swallow. Maybe this is because we like to view ourselves as passive receptors rather than active processors of information. When someone lies to us (whether in person or through fabricated news stories), we see it as something that happens to us, rather than as something we do. Of course, when we have limited choices of what to believe—and this is the case with young children—it is possible to be a victim of a lie. Children believe what they are told because they aren’t aware of other options. But the matter is usually different for mature adults with healthy minds and freer access to information. When we believe a statement, we have made an active choice for which we are responsible.

Our Vices Make Lies Believable.

An example might help. Suppose I suddenly realize that a story I had believed for several months—say, that a coworker was plotting to get me fired—was completely false. And suppose I had heard that story from the co-worker’s office mate, a supposedly reliable source. After realizing the story was false, I probably would want to blame the person who told me that fib. But I rarely consider my role in the deception. Perhaps I had developed some vices that predisposed me to believe this false narrative. What kind of vices could these be? Possibly . . .

  • Pride. “Well, I am quite an important person around here. I’m not surprised that my outstanding performance would make others so jealous that they would want to plot my demise.”
  • Laziness. “It’s too much of a bother to sort through the evidence. The claim that so-and-so is plotting to get me fired is a convenient way of explaining some things that have been going on around here.”
  • Bias. “Well, it makes total sense that he would be against me. After all, he’s a ____ [whichever race, political party, or economic status I’m inclined to despise].”
  • Fear. “I knew it would happen. Someone is out to get me!”
  • Gullibility. If I had been humble, studious, impartial, and courageous, and if I had a reputation for insisting on the truth, perhaps my false informant would have been less inclined lie to me. Instead, however, knowing I had these vices, he had the subtle sense that I would be the perfect target for a lie. In other words, I made myself easy to be lied to.

We could multiply this example in many other areas—believing “fake news” because it confirms our political biases, dismissing a person’s credibility because of our dislike for his race, or refusing to believe someone’s constructive criticism because it hurts our pride.

What You Choose to Believe Depends a Great Deal on What Kind of Person You Are.

In all these examples, it is not the lack of information, but the lack of virtue that damages our ability to form the right beliefs. In fact, arriving at the truth means more than getting all the pertinent facts; it requires being the right kind of person. If I am proud, lazy, biased, hateful, narrow-minded, I am much more likely to be attracted to stories that feed my pride, coddle my laziness, confirm my biases, or inflame my hatred.

A vivid example of this comes from a scene in C. S. Lewis’ The Magician’s Nephew. While the children Digory and Polly hear Aslan’s beautiful singing and the cheerful laughter of the newly-created animals, Uncle Andrew—proud, fearful, and toady—hears and sees something quite different. Instead of music and laughter, he hears terrifying roaring and snarling, and sees dangerous beasts. Lewis explains why Uncle Andrew’s perception was so flawed. “What you see and hear,” he writes, “depends a good deal on where you are standing: it also depends on what sort of person you are.” The same is true of us. What we choose to believe depends a great deal on whether we are proud or humble, loving or hateful, small-minded or magnanimous, biased or impartial, lazy or industrious, snoopy or studious.

So Pursue Christlikeness.

Of course, as long as we live in a fallen world, we will be susceptible to believing what is false. Our minds have been deeply impacted by our sin and the natural limitations of being human. In fact, it is a feature of our sin nature that we deceive ourselves (Ephesians 4:17-19). But as followers of Christ, we can and must seek to develop the virtues that make us more attracted to the truth and more repulsed by lies. Ultimately, this means becoming more like Christ. It means, as Paul puts it, “be[ing] transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2). For it is Christ who teaches us “to put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness” (Ephesians 4:22-24).