THE LION, THE FOX, AND THE DONKEY
People are not always deceived because they cannot see the truth. Sometimes they see the truth clearly, yet choose to believe what they want to believe.
Just because someone tells us nice things does not mean those things are true. Especially when those words contain promises of status, power, privilege, or a grand future, reason can easily retreat. Because a lie that pleases us can seem more attractive than a truth that hurts us.
Moreover, not everyone who deceives us appears to have bad intentions. Some approach us as friends, some offer advice, and some claim that they have our best interests at heart. That is precisely where the danger begins.
Because more often than not, we believe our own desires before we believe someone else’s lies.
Yesterday, I shared a piece titled “A Country Loses When People Rent Out Their Minds to Political Parties.” A dear friend who read it told me the following old animal fable, which echoes these ideas:
One day, a hungry lion said to a fox:
Bring me some food, or I will eat you.
While wandering through the forest, the fox came across a donkey.
The lion wants to make you king. Come with me, he said.
The donkey believed that such an offer might actually be true and followed the fox.
As soon as the lion saw the donkey, he pounced on him and bit his ears. The donkey barely escaped and ran away.
He returned angrily to the fox:
You deceived me! The lion tried to kill me!
Without missing a beat, the fox replied:
Oh, my dear donkey, don't be foolish! The lion took your ears so he could place a crown on your head. Come on, let's go back.
The donkey thought about it for a while.
He found the explanation convincing and followed the fox again.
This time, the lion bit the donkey's tail.
The donkey escaped once more and returned to the fox:
The lion tore off my tail! Why do you keep lying to me?
The fox once again had a ready explanation:
The king wants you to sit comfortably on your throne. He took your tail so it wouldn't get in the way. Now nothing stands between you and becoming king. Come on, come with me!
The donkey believed him again.
For the third time, he stood before the lion.
This time, he could not escape.
The lion killed him.
Then he said to the fox:
Quickly, skin the donkey. Bring me his heart, lungs, liver, and brain.
The fox skinned the donkey and brought the lion his heart, lungs, and liver. But he did not bring the brain.
The lion angrily asked:
Where is his brain?
Without hesitation, the fox replied:
He didn't have one, my king. If he had a brain, would he have come back to you for the third time after losing his ears and his tail?
The lion thought for a moment.
You're right, he said.
The story ends here.
But the real questions we need to ask ourselves begin precisely here.
The donkey's problem was not simply that the fox lied to him. The real problem was that even after experiencing two painful consequences, he still failed to use his own judgment.
First, he lost his ears.
Then, his tail.
Both incidents were clear enough to show him the truth. Yet instead of questioning what was happening, he clung to the fox's explanation.
Because the idea of becoming king was more attractive to him than the painful reality of what was happening.
People often behave the same way.
The first time they are deceived, they say, “I was mistaken.”
The second time they trust the same person, they think, “Maybe this time will be different.”
But the third time, they are no longer merely being deceived.
They have become prisoners of a dream they created themselves.
One of the greatest weaknesses of human beings is trusting too much in the person who tells them what they want to hear.
If someone constantly promises us status, money, success, privilege, or power, we should look not only at what they say but also at what they have actually done.
Because words are cheap.
What matters is behavior.
We should judge people not merely by what they say, but by the distance between what they say and what they do.
In this story, the fox uses his intelligence for evil. The donkey pays the price for failing to use his judgment. The lion, meanwhile, uses his power to get what he wants.
What they have in common is this:
One deceives, one is deceived, and one takes advantage of it.
In life, it is not enough to beware of foxes.
Sometimes we also need to recognize the donkey within ourselves.
Because we are not always deceived by someone else's lies.
Sometimes our own desires deceive us.
Sometimes it is our hunger for status.
Sometimes our hope for easy success.
Sometimes it is the pleasure of being made to feel “chosen,” “special,” or “important.”
And sometimes, because we are afraid of losing something, we close our eyes even when we can see the truth.
That is why one of the most important habits of a wise person is questioning.
“Who is telling me this?”
“What do they have to gain by saying it?”
“Have the things they said before actually turned out to be true?”
“Does what I am experiencing really match the story I am being told?”
“Am I believing the truth, or am I believing what I want to be true?”
These questions may sometimes leave us alone.
But being alone is safer than walking alongside the wrong people.
Because the price of surrendering your own judgment to someone else is often more than simply being mistaken.
Sometimes you lose your ears.
Sometimes your tail.
Sometimes your dignity.
And sometimes you reach a point from which there is no way back.
Lessons from the Fable
To me, the most important lesson of this old story is this:
The moment a person entrusts their mind to someone else, they cease to be the decision-maker in their own life.
Not everyone who promises us a beautiful future is our friend.
Not everyone who constantly praises us has our best interests at heart.
Not everyone who says, “I'm doing this for you,” is truly acting for our benefit.
And walking beside every powerful person does not make us powerful.
Sometimes, quite the opposite, it causes us to lose our own will.
That is why the important decisions in our lives should be based not on the words of others, but on our reason, our experience, our knowledge, and our conscience.
The most dangerous part of being mistaken is not making a mistake for the first time.
It is believing the same lie again after realizing that you were wrong.
When life teaches us a painful lesson, we should try to understand it rather than immediately forget it. Because every loss, if properly understood, can make us more alert to the next deception.
The donkey's greatest loss was not his ears or his tail.
His real loss was putting someone else's words before his own judgment.
Perhaps the most valuable thing a human being possesses begins precisely here:
To think with your own mind, see with your own eyes, and take responsibility for your own decisions.
Because the greatest misfortune that can happen to a person is not being deceived.
It is realizing that you have been deceived and still continuing to follow the same person.