I work closely with a colleague who has long struggled with alcoholism — so much so that he nearly lost his job multiple times. He confided in me recently that his wife and children have left him. He says he has no one else. We hung out once, briefly, outside work more than a year ago, and since then he has started leaning heavily on me, not just for support at work but emotionally and personally as well. I care about his well-being, and I’ve told him that I’ll support him in the workplace however I can. But I’ve also been honest that I can’t be his everything outside work. I don’t have the emotional bandwidth, and frankly, even if he were in a better place, I don’t think I would seek a friendship with him. Still, I feel awful. He’s isolated, clearly in pain, and I’m afraid that if I don’t step up, he may never get the help he needs. But I also know I’m not equipped to be his therapist, family and friend. How do I draw a boundary without feeling that I’m abandoning someone in crisis? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
Sometimes life places us in situations in which we’re uniquely positioned to help someone in serious trouble, even though we never volunteered for that role. Think of a sole witness to a crime, who suddenly bears obligations she never asked for. Or the good Samaritan in the New Testament parable, who comes across someone who was robbed, stripped, wounded and abandoned. If the previous passers-by had done what they should have, there would be nothing for the Samaritan to do. But the fact that their neglect created the need doesn’t excuse him from doing something.
In this case, you can’t pretend not to see your colleague’s crisis. At first, your help was just a stopgap until he regained his footing. But once you start helping, your responsibilities can grow. If you’ve led someone halfway across a dangerous river, you can’t leave the person stranded midstream. By the same token, if you let people build their entire support systems around you, your moral commitments deepen. In either case, walking away can cause harm.
Wisely, you recognize this dynamic, and you want to resist letting your commitments grow beyond what you can sustain. The key is being clear about those boundaries. You’ve already taken the right first step by telling your colleague that you’ll support him at work but that you can’t be his everything outside it.
Now you need to follow through, gently and firmly. Consider what specific support you’re willing and able to provide, then communicate those limits clearly. You might also encourage your colleague to connect with Alcoholics Anonymous or similar organizations that can offer the sustained, specialized support he needs. These groups exist precisely because addiction recovery requires more than any single friend can offer.
This isn’t a matter of shirking your duties; it’s a matter of stewarding your capacity to assist. As you say, you can’t be his therapist, family and friend all at once. If he resists professional help or continues pushing against your boundaries, you’ll need to hold firm. Allowing him to avoid proper treatment serves neither of you. By keeping those boundaries firm, you protect your ability to give meaningful help and you push him toward the broader support he needs.
Readers Respond
The previous question was about a woman whose family member made insulting remarks about her fiancée, who is transgender. She wrote:
“I recently got engaged to the love of my life — a kind, intelligent, beautiful woman who shares my vision for the future. She’s transgender, and I’m a cis woman. This has never mattered to me; she’s simply my partner. The problem lies with my conservative family. Some of them hold hostile views toward trans people. While they’ve said nothing to me directly, I recently learned that one of my relatives referred to my fiancée as “that thing” and said, “He, she, who knows?” This relative has met my fiancée, who “passes” as a woman to anyone who sees her. This didn’t come from confusion — it felt malevolent…I haven’t told my fiancée what was said about her and don’t plan to. I just want to know how much grace I owe someone like this relative. Am I wrong to feel that I’ve waited long enough for change and that, for my own peace and my future family’s, it’s time to move on? — Name Withheld
In his response, the Ethicist noted:
“You mentioned that your fiancée “passes” in an effort to contextualize your relative’s cruelty. But, of course, no one should have to look a certain way to be treated with dignity; plenty of cisgender men and women also don’t accord with the stereotypes of their gender. All are entitled to be treated according to their identity. Courtesy isn’t merely a matter of manners — treating people with appropriate respect is an ethical obligation. Your relative’s remark would have been inexcusable under any circumstances. But beyond the views your relative has expressed, they don’t sound like someone who treats you with care or warmth. We don’t owe closeness to people just because they’re family. And while shared histories can make us want to offer grace, grace has its limits. You’re building a life with someone you love. It’s more than fair to decide who gets to be part of that life — and who doesn’t.”
(Reread the full question and answer here.)
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I’m so glad the Ethicist gave a direct response without any excuse-making or “appeals for understanding.” We live in a time when those with liberal values are expected to accept whatever abuse conservatives dish out in the name of harmony. Sometimes basic decency should trump politeness. — Charles S.
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One of the more profound insights I’ve had in terms of reconciling how to tolerate intolerance is to consider that tolerance is less a moral standard than it is a social contract. Social contracts, like all contracts, cover and protect only those who abide by their terms. Those expressing intolerance are no longer adhering to the terms of the social contract, and therefore are not entitled to the enjoyment of tolerance in return. — Sean
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The Ethicist is bang on! You don’t owe a relationship to someone who doesn’t love you enough to be respectful to whomever you choose to spend your life with. I would not start World War III, but I would let that relationship fade into the dust quietly and gracefully. Stick with your fiancée; it sounds as if you may have picked a really good one! — Charles
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Since nothing was said directly to the advice seeker, I feel they need, if possible, more information before cutting ties. Would there be a way to reach out, preferably in person or by phone, to the comment-making relative and ask to have a conversation about it? It is entirely possible that the advice seeker’s relative did make these awful remarks, but I feel the relative should have an opportunity to explain what happened rather than having the advice seeker cut them off abruptly and perhaps without explanation based on information from a third party. If the relative did make the comments, the direct conversation would also be good, as it may hopefully make them aware that hurtful remarks impact others. — Katie
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I agree with the Ethicist’s response, particularly his broadening it beyond the issue of trans-ness to all humans. I am also glad that the writer does not intend to tell their fiancée about the remarks; two people have relayed remarks made about me by others, and that has served to distance me from both the offender and the person reporting the critical remarks. — Kristina
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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