My wife and I live in a neighborhood of single-family homes, most of which are owner-occupied. The home next door, however, is rented out by an absentee landlord. We became friendly with the previous tenants, who moved out very abruptly a couple of weeks ago. We learned from them that the house is infested with black mold, as identified by a professional testing company, and they shared the results with us. The mold issue was serious enough to cause health issues for the previous tenants. To our knowledge, the landlord has done nothing to mitigate this issue, and now he has listed the house for rent again. Our concern is that we’ve seen families with small children looking at the house. We believe that we might be in legal jeopardy if we were to inform prospective tenants about the mold issue, but what is our moral obligation? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
In the late 1990s, Stachybotrys chartarum — sometimes dubbed “toxic black mold” — became the subject of national alarm, with news stories linking it to devastating health effects. Much of that panic was later walked back after scientific review. Still, people with allergies can experience a stuffy or runny nose and the like from mold exposure, while for people with asthma, compromised immune systems or simply bad luck, mold exposure can be genuinely harmful. In children, mold exposure has been associated with an increased risk of developing asthma. In every state, a landlord implicitly promises that a rental property is habitable. What counts as “habitable” varies by jurisdiction, but a serious mold problem most likely violates that standard.
If the previous tenants shared their testing results with you, try to get a copy, if you haven’t already. You’ll want to satisfy to yourself, too, that the company doing the mold inspection is on the up-and-up; notoriously, there can be a conflict of interest when the people doing the inspections are also in the remediation business. (“In most cases, if visible mold growth is present, sampling is unnecessary,” the E.P.A. advises, while the C.D.C. flatly says that it “does not recommend mold testing,” noting that “there are no set standards for what is and what is not an acceptable quantity of different kinds of mold in a home.”) Assuming the problem has been correctly identified, you might write the landlord, asking whether the issue has been addressed, and sharing your health concerns.
If you’re convinced that the danger remains, you could share the documentation with the agent listing this rental property. Realtors have their own ethical and legal obligations: If they believe the home is uninhabitable, they can’t simply let tenants assume the risk. And they’re unlikely to want to expose themselves to legal jeopardy for concealing a defect. (Disclosing facts shouldn’t expose you to legal jeopardy, but that’s a question for a lawyer.)
You’re not under a moral obligation to act, and you wouldn’t be wrong to stay out of it. But this is the kind of gesture that, when well-informed, can make the world a little better. If a child were to suffer because no one spoke up, you might wish you had said something. If you were the one about to move in, you would want to know. A decent society depends, in part, on people who choose to help when they don’t strictly have to.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from a reader who wanted to tell her sister about abuse she suffered from their brother. She wrote: “Some of my earliest memories are of being sexually abused by my brother, for about two years, until he ran away from home. I rarely saw him again; he died a few years ago. When our mother died, my sister took me in.
“I kept my brother’s abuse a secret until years into my marriage, when the burden became unbearable. For 25 years, I protected my mother, my sister, my brother and others by hiding this shame, which should never have been mine to carry. Now, on my healing journey, I long to share my story with someone I love who might understand what this abuse has cost me — the broken parts of myself, the life it stole. I want that person to be my sister.”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “I generally lean toward candor, especially with those closest to us. People cannot make sense of their lives if they’re kept in the dark. … For your sister, what remains are memories, not continuing relationships.
“At the same time, she does have a living relationship with you. And relationships are shaped as much by the stories we withhold as by the ones we tell. … If there’s even a modest chance that sharing the truth leads to understanding, it’s probably worth trying.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
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Grief cannot be fully released if kept in the dark. It may be the catalyst for her sister to reframe their relationship. One can never predict how another person will react to such news, so we need to always be clear with ourselves about the motivation for disclosure. If it is simply the need to share honestly with someone who lived with us in our early life, it can be helpful. If we’re doing it because we have a certain expectation for a new and better relationship, it’s possible that in the absence of that response, we may feel emotionally injured all over again. — Marla
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For myself, making amends for having been sexually abused as a child took the form of stopping my pretense that it did not happen; acknowledging the abuse to myself and others, without self-pity or recrimination; acknowledging, without blame to myself, my participation in the abuse, if any; and feeling all the anger, guilt, loss and sadness that accompanied or resulted from the abuse. The unexpected and unsought outcome for me was forgiveness for both myself and the perpetrator. I found this process well worth the time and courage it took, and I’m so grateful to the therapists who supported me as I navigated it. — Saundra
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As someone who has been on the receiving end of similar information when I was not at all prepared to deal with it, I can tell you that, from the receiver’s perspective, the writer’s news may be seen as unhelpful, unwelcome, unnecessary and selfish. We are not entitled to unburden ourselves at the expense of burdening others. It is not up to the writer to decide whether or when her sister is ready, if ever. Knowing might make her sister more empathetic, or the sister could feel even greater resentment after being forced to confront another painful family story. Either way, the sister deserves some choice in the matter. — Susan
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Your sister’s reality will not be the same as yours. You absolutely should share what happened to you after you have completely processed the event. However, do not expect to get any particular reaction. You have no control over your sister, nor over what she accepts as truth. You will also have to accept your real relationship with her. You may find yourself alone but emotionally authentic. Being your true self is liberating and healthy. — Susan
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I think this is primarily about you. You’ve carried this trauma with you long enough, and you’re driven to share your story with the world. I understand that you’re afraid of your sister’s reaction. But it’s about you, about sharing your truth, which is an act of liberation. This is about you and your healing — you’ve been considerate long enough. I wish you all the best on your healing journey. — Joachim
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Do you really believe your sister will benefit from knowing what your brother did, or that it will create a bridge that did not exist between you? If so, go ahead and tell your sister. If not, find another way or other people to share your truth with. Your family dynamic was toxic. Kill that toxin; don’t feed and water it. — Andrea
Kwame Anthony Appiah is The New York Times Magazine’s Ethicist columnist and teaches philosophy at N.Y.U. To submit a query, send an email to [email protected].
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