The Clemency to Lie: A Debate Between Myself and My Conscience

 

By Isaac Christopher Lubogo

Scene: A dimly lit courtroom of the soul.
There is no jury. No judge. Only me… and my conscience.

Opening Bell:

Me (rising with defiance):
I’m done being righteous and broke.
I’m done telling the truth and watching others eat lies for lunch and belch success.
The world is not built for honest men.
So let me lie. Let me learn the science of survival.
Because truth has become a beggar in the marketplace of the powerful.

Conscience (slamming the table):
Sit down!
Do you want to survive as a man, or exist as a shadow?
Lies are sugar-coated cyanide. They feed your moment but rot your legacy.
You think you’re learning to lie? No.
You’re unlearning to be human.

Round One: The Justification of Hunger

Me:
Then tell me, oh holy one—what shall I feed my children with?
Moral purity?
Will truth buy food at the market?
Will honesty fill an empty pot?

They told me, “Be good.”
I was.
Now my landlord knocks with a court order, while the liar next door parks a Benz.

> The stomach has no moral compass.

Conscience:
You confuse survival with surrender.
Do not wrap cowardice in the robe of necessity.
The liar may feast today, but he starves tomorrow when no one believes him—even when he’s right.

Would you rather beg for bread with dignity—or build a castle with stolen stones?

Round Two: The World Rewards the Wicked

Me:
Look around you—who are the leaders?
The deceivers.
Who gets ahead?
The ones who edit their CVs, cheat tenders, smile at donors then loot grants.

And what happens to those who tell the truth? They get silenced.
Exiled.
Buried in files labeled “uncooperative.”

So please, I too deserve my place at the table of deceit.
Why should I keep being the only one bleeding ethics in a room of devils?

Conscience:
Because you are not them.
Because truth is not a strategy—it is your identity.

> If the world celebrates madness, would you amputate your mind to fit in?

Corruption looks like success—until it becomes inheritance.

Do not normalize dysfunction just because it wears a suit and speaks English.

Round Three: The Moral Bankruptcy of Virtue

Me:
But what is truth in a broken world?
Tell the truth and you lose the job.
Tell a lie and you feed a family.
Then lie bigger and you get promoted.

So what’s more ethical—feeding ten mouths with a lie, or dying righteous and leaving ten orphans?

Sometimes, a lie saves a life.
Sometimes, a lie secures tomorrow.
So yes, give me the clemency to lie—because this world is not neutral.

Conscience (quietly):
You’re right.

Me (shocked):
I… am?

Conscience:
Yes.
Sometimes a lie is a life raft in a storm.

But ask yourself:

> Is it the lie you need—or the courage to confront the storm differently?

There’s a difference between strategic silence and complicit deception.
Between negotiating survival and becoming the very darkness you once resisted.

When you lie enough, the line disappears—and you won’t even know when you’ve become your enemy.

Final Round: The Legacy Question

Me:
So then tell me—what do I do?
Starve with principles?
Be noble in a world that monetizes illusion?Conscience:
You be wise.
You be strategic.
But you never become a liar.

You learn diplomacy.
You master silence.
You disguise truth in metaphors if you must.
But you don’t trade your soul for supper.

> Because when the lie is finished feeding you—it will ask for something more: yourself.Closing Statement:

Me (whispering):
So truth is not just spoken.
It’s endured?Conscience:
Exactly.
You may not win quickly with truth.
But you will sleep.
You will breathe.
And you will never fear being found out.

That… is wealth.Verdict: Reserved.

The debate continues.
Every morning.
Every job application.
Every corner cut or avoided.

But somewhere deep inside,
A voice still asks:

> “What will you tell your child—when they ask what made you a man?”# Suigeneris