Even as someone who has never studied Latin, I was struck by the repetition of the word veritas, meaning truth, during Pontius Pilate's scenes in The Passion of The Christ, writes Breda O'Brien.
In the Gospels, Pilate poses the famous question, "What is truth?" In the film, he decides that truth is determined by expedience, by the harsh consequences which his superiors will visit on him if the Jews revolt yet again. Sadly, the Pontius Pilate school of truth seems to rule in our world.
It is impossible to discuss the issue of truth and lies without reference to the Brian Murphy case. I do not propose to linger on it, because the Murphy family has already been subject to too much intrusive commentary, and now deserves to be left alone.
In a masterpiece of legal understatement, Judge Michel White said it was "surprising" that witnesses were not able to identify those who kicked Brian Murphy to death. The shadowy ghosts of those who landed the fatal kicks haunt all our minds. What does it do to us as a society to know they go unpunished, simply because self-preservation was preferred to truth?
I do not believe that young people are amoral and lacking in character. Instead, I believe that we do little to reinforce the ones who uphold high standards of behaviour, because we constantly focus on those who deviate from such standards. However, in some 13 years of dealing on an almost daily basis with young people, I have noticed one disturbing trend, which is that many young people no longer feel it is wrong to lie.
Let me give an example. At a disco supervised by adults, some of them noticed that one young man of about 14 had gone outside and was more than a little drunk. They were not going to let him come back inside in that condition, but neither were they willing to let him wander around outside. All sorts of horrors were possible if he were left alone outside, everything from a fall to an impulsive act of self-harm. So the men asked him his name and where he came from. Without a flicker, looking them straight in the eye, he gave the name of another student from another school. He did not know that they were well aware of which school he attended.
The other boys he was with immediately fell in with the lies, although they must have been aware that it could have had serious consequences for the innocent boy they had named, had the adults chosen to report him to his school. The men pointed out that they were not willing to allow the charade to continue, that they were only interested in ensuring that he got home safely.
With that, the suave tone of the teenager changed, and he began to swear violently at them. He was drunk, but it was the complicity of the others which struck the adults most. The parents, who were called when the true identity of the boy was eventually established, were grateful to the supervisors, and by no means met the stereotype of the careless parent.
But what are parents to do, when they are continually battling cultural influences which undermine the standards they themselves try to pass on to their children? Smirnoff happily promotes alcohol with its slogan, "As clear as your conscience", with its smirking implication that everyone lies.
The incident with the drunken lad is part of a much wider trend. The cultural injunction against lying has lost much of its moral force. You simply cannot rely on the word of many young people any more. They feel it is much worse to be caught than it is to lie.
Of course, as usual, as soon as we begin to point the finger at young people, we can see, as my mother would have said grimly, that they did not lick it off the stones. At a moment of great tragedy in their national history, we have had the spectacle of a government in Spain lying to those whom it represented, with the sole aim of saving their political skins. Closer to home, we have the tribunals, where we have the constant presence of contradictory testimony.
Either one side or another is lying, and sometimes it appears as if both are. This cannot but have a corrosive effect on young people, who see that those who are in positions of great influence have no problem with bending the truth when it suits them.
There is dishonesty at the highest levels, but what has really changed are people's personal standards. It is obvious that people over 35 lie, but they received enough moral formation to know that it is wrong. In the majority of cases, adults feel at least some guilt about lying. Guilt is an unpopular emotion, and is seen as somehow regressive. Yet the ability to feel proportionate guilt is a mark of a developed conscience. The discomfort engendered by guilt is a spur to changing the behaviour. The absence of any clear sense of guilt among some of the young about lying is deeply worrying.
Irish people have often resorted to the defence that it is our colonial past which has given us such a fast and loose relationship with the truth. Since we were dealing with an oppressive colonial power, the argument goes, the ability to deceive was an essential part of survival, and Irish people have little respect for institutions as a result.
This argument is specious. We have abandoned many other aspects of our history without a backward look. How can we resort to clinging to this old rubbish as a justification for what has become an epidemic of minor and major dishonesty in the past few decades?
Truth is not just a religious value. Society cannot function without truth, because without it, trust is impossible. In order to function properly, liberal democracy depends on shared cultural values, such as the ability to trust others. Businesses and economies are seriously handicapped when one is constantly suspicious of those with whom one deals. Personal relationships founder when trust is breached.
Internalised habits of truth-telling are so vital to our common life that it is frightening to contemplate where the Pontius Pilate school of truth will lead us.