Our child was recently invited to a sleepover at a new classmate’s home. With life beginning to return to some pre-Covid normalcy, we hastily accepted this invitation. Realizing that we know nothing about this family, we did an online search of their names. Much to our dismay, there were a lot of articles about both parents, who are now infamous for their unscrupulous and callous illegal business dealings that ultimately led to a multimillion-dollar settlement with our city government. Morally bankrupt people are not the kind of people we want our children to be around nor do we want to associate with them ourselves. We have this nagging feeling, however, that it’s not fair to penalize children for their parents’ poor behavior.
Should we let the children hang out? How much do we share with our own child, who is old enough to understand why their behavior is unacceptable? Names Withheld
The recognition that guilt isn’t a heritable trait is hardly novel; the book of Ezekiel emphatically condemns the proverb that “the fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set at edge.” Your worry about penalizing the offspring of these miscreants is well founded. At the same time, your duties to your own child do take precedence over your concerns for the children of others. In the philosophical literature on “partiality” — the special concern we have toward those with whom we have special relationships — some have argued that it’s morally permissible to give your own children priority. In my view, it isn’t merely permissible; it’s morally obligatory. What you owe to your child is not the same as what you owe to just any child.
How do these two considerations play out here? It’s reasonable to avoid the company of people you find morally bankrupt. But when you say that you don’t want your children to be around such people, is it because you think that, in general, odious people like this couple ought to be treated as pariahs? Or does it reflect a narrower judgment that the couple might inculcate bad values or be irresponsible caretakers?
If your concerns were the narrower kind, and you wanted to do something for their child, you might consider finding a way to have a playdate at your place. That’s probably what I would be inclined to do. But I suspect you’re guided by a broader sense of opprobrium. There can certainly be social value in shunning wrongdoers, though I should acknowledge that it isn’t a particular strength of mine. When someone I was friendly with in my youth was sent to prison for committing larceny, I was appalled by what he’d done, by his abuse of a community’s trust, but I still visited him behind bars to see that he was OK.
Your situation is different, of course; these people are little more to you than a list of wrongdoings. And if you are determined to have nothing to do with these people — a practice that is, to return to our earlier distinction, morally permissible but not obligatory — then you probably won’t want to encourage a friendship between your child and theirs. Children, in these circumstances, can’t be severed from their parents.
At this point, you could simply tell the couple that your child won’t be able to come to the sleepover. It’s up to you whether you want to explain why: that you’ve been shaken by what you’ve learned about them. Either way, you will need to think about what your child will then say to their child about what’s happening.
Sadly for their child, it’s very unlikely that the actions of the parents will forever remain a secret at school. (And given that the parents’ actions have drawn the attention of both the media and law enforcement, it would be surprising if their child is completely unaware of them.) But you don’t want your child to be the one to spread the news. So you shouldn’t burden your child with information that’s not to be repeated. Don’t say much more than that you’ve read stuff that makes you want to steer clear of these parents. This isn’t the time to inventory and assess their misdeeds.
Your child may or may not become friendly with this new classmate; friendships among children aren’t something parents are able to direct, nor should they. But do encourage your child to treat theirs with kindness. Ezekiel got it right: Children shouldn’t “bear the iniquity” of their parents.
Four years ago, after many years with no contact, I finally reconnected with the best man from my wedding, who is probably my longest very good friend. We both worked for the same company in our first jobs after college. Eventually, he relocated to the South while I remained in the North. After we reconnected, we began writing letters to maintain the friendship and to keep each other informed about our lives. We chose to write letters because writing forces you to think a bit before putting pen to paper and it seems to create a more intimate bond between us, much stronger than electronic bits and bytes.
I’ve reached a point in my life where I would like to delve into matters beyond family life. I am afraid, however, that writing about issues such as science and politics might open rifts that might be difficult to bridge. At our meeting four years ago, he recounted that he had adopted a literal belief in the Old Testament (something that had definitely not been an issue when our friendship was forming), while I’m a strong believer in science. Given his beliefs, I don’t know how he would view my understanding of evolution and the age of the universe. Further, I happen to know that he is registered with a political party that I believe has become the most significant threat to American democracy ever seen in the life of the country. Because I don’t think he would understand my own beliefs, I have avoided this subject, to the point of avoiding discussing the events of Jan. 6, 2021. Finally, he told me in one of his letters that he prefers to write about religion, a subject in which I, as a lapsed Catholic, have little interest; I would probably have less than positive things to say about organized religions if we did discuss them.
My reluctance to expose more of my beliefs makes me feel that I am somehow engaging in patronizing behavior or even lying in a way, hiding my beliefs to maintain our friendship. But shouldn’t real friendship be able to transcend this problem? I am at a loss as to how to proceed. Name Withheld
Whether a friendship can survive deep disagreements depends on how the friends are able to address them.
It sounds as if what you’re worried about — straining a friendship you value — is already happening. As you withhold more of your opinions, you’re effectively distancing yourself. Your exchanges seem to be proceeding along a narrowing aperture, tightened by the consciousness of all the topics you’re afraid to broach. Your friend may feel similarly.
Why not write a letter telling him that you clearly have beliefs and values that are at odds with his and that you want to find ways of discussing these things in an open-minded and respectful way while maintaining a meaningful friendship? Whether a friendship can survive deep disagreements depends on how the friends are able to address them.
I get the sense that you’re worried not just about how he would react to your views; you’re also worried about how you would react to his. Perhaps you can’t imagine seriously entertaining his political opinions. You’ve already conveyed your distaste for the subject of religion. (I, like you, am a lapsed Christian, but I confess I can find conversations about theological matters intellectually gripping, even when they presuppose beliefs I no longer share.) Still, the result of your apprehension is that you’re keeping out of your letters a discussion of questions that genuinely interest you.
The friendship that you’ve enjoyed might or might not survive an exchange in which you took on some of each other’s worldly and otherworldly views. If the friendship were to falter, it was a relationship between two people who couldn’t take each other whole, as each of you really is. If it survives, your exchanges could prove truly rewarding, even if all they lead to is a deepened understanding of your respective positions. Given that the exchange of thoughts and concerns is at the heart of your friendship, this is a risk worth taking.
Kwame Anthony Appiah teaches philosophy at N.Y.U. His books include “Cosmopolitanism,” “The Honor Code” and “The Lies That Bind: Rethinking Identity.” To submit a query: Send an email to ethicists@nytimes.com; or send mail to The Ethicist, The New York Times Magazine, 620 Eighth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10018. (Include a daytime phone number.)