A year ago, I went no-contact with a toxic friend who I now believe has a personality disorder. One main reason is the way she treats her young daughter: emotionally abusive, often cruel. I had been deeply involved in the child’s life — watching her for weeks when her mother traveled, serving as her emergency contact at school, joining field trips, caring for her when she was sick, even delousing her when her mother refused to acknowledge she had lice. My friend called me her daughter’s “fairy godmother.”
After I moved to another city, they came to visit. The trip turned disastrous when the mother repeatedly called her daughter profane names, reducing her to tears, even after I begged her to stop. That was the last time we spoke.
It has now been a year, and I’m still grieving. I feel I abandoned the child — first by moving away, then by cutting ties. She lives with an abusive mother and has a father who appears only when it suits him. Beyond that, she has little contact with family or trusted adults. I worry constantly for her emotional health and safety.
I have considered filing a child abuse report, but I fear it might do more harm than good, especially since the incidents I witnessed happened more than a year ago and I said nothing at the time. I’m also troubled that the mother is a social worker, with ties to the very agency that would receive a report, and I doubt my anonymity would be protected.
So I’m left wondering: What is my ethical obligation to this child? Could I reach out to her school social worker and ask them to check on her? I care for her deeply and fear she will grow up scarred unless someone intervenes. At the same time, I feel I may no longer have the standing to act.
This question has kept me awake at night for a year, and I would be grateful for any analysis. — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
There is a child you care about who, if your impressions are right, is living under the weight of physical and psychological abuse. That knowledge is hard to carry because it creates a responsibility: Once you’ve seen what you’ve seen, it isn’t possible simply to step away without asking yourself whether you should act. It’s also why you’re still grieving; the sense of abandonment you describe is a measure of the bond you built with her, and of the loyalty you continue to feel.
Because your ties with the mother are already severed, the usual fear of damaging a relationship doesn’t apply. What remains is the matter of what is owed to the child. The real issue to think through whether intervening would do more good than harm. Reporting belatedly to child protective services or a school social worker may feel awkward, but the fact that time has passed does not erase the significance of what you witnessed. At worst, if the mother’s professional connections allow her to neutralize a report, the effort will be ignored. At best, it might alert people in a position to watch over the child — teachers, social workers, child-welfare staff — who could be helpful in ways you cannot. And even if her father has not been reliable, he, too, should know what you’ve observed; sometimes people step up when the stakes are made plain.
Silence may feel safer, but it also leaves this child more isolated. However uncertain the outcome, making sure that those who can help have the information you do seems the way to do right by the bond you once had with her.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from a reader who was thinking about distancing himself from a friend who has liberal politics but never participates in protests. He wrote:
“I’m an H.I.V.-positive gay man who is distraught with where the country is headed, so I am actively participating in protests. I have a liberal friend who lives in an overwhelmingly Trump-supporting small town and is married to a Trump supporter. She messages me often about her fears of what is going on and seems equally distraught. I’ve shared with her how current politics could affect my life and how, although I’m very aware of my privilege, I’m concerned about people who aren’t as privileged and how they could be affected. But she doesn’t participate in protests and doesn’t like to actively show her views except on social media. … She comes off to me as someone who’s comfortable in her life and doesn’t want to shake anything up, which is the height of hypocrisy to me.” — Name Withheld
In his response, the Ethicist noted:
“For people who live in our great urban centers, protests of the kind you evoke are about as contentious as an ice cream social. They’re cost-free. Most people you know will be pleased to see you out there. For her, in a small Trump-supporting town, it’s another story. … Is it fair to call her a hypocrite? Hypocrisy means professing beliefs you don’t hold. She shares your views but confronts some very different costs when it comes to public action. And then, because she’s married to a Trump supporter, those costs run right through her daily life. She may also see that there are other, sometimes more effective ways to persuade. Research on what’s called “deep canvassing” shows that half-hour conversations — listening first, inviting people to think about their views, sharing your own experience — can shift attitudes in a way that slogans and signs seldom do. … As you ask whether to keep people like your low-key friend in your life, I fear that the failure of empathy here is on your side.”
(Reread the full question and answer here.)
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I am that small town friend. I have a job that involves a lot of interpersonal interaction at an institution that the letter writer would find conservative. Every single day, I weigh how to respond to conversations in my workplace: how much to say, how much to hold back, what magic ratio might move this person to see the world from a different perspective. And of course I wonder whether what I say might impact my job, my husband or my kids. The letter writer agonizes about keeping this friendship. Her friend may well be agonizing day in and day out over her interactions. — Beth
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Certainly, it takes a lot more courage to stand up for your beliefs when your spouse and those in your community are likely to be offended or upset. But that’s what this moment calls for. And if you’re not up to the moment, OK — but that doesn’t mean you’re not a coward. It’s easy to protest when there’s no cost. It takes courage and commitment and bravery when there is one. If you don’t have that, at least you need to admit to yourself that there are things in your life that you think are more important than social justice. — David
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I’ve participated in protests, but I have lately come to share the belief that a calm and well-considered conversation with people who oppose my political views, whether they be acquaintances or strangers, moves them at least closer to the middle. At a minimum, as a gay man, I’ve gotten them much closer to my position on human rights. I believe they’ve found it difficult to oppose a kindhearted person sitting in front of them with empathetic yet firm opposition to their positions (which are often only loosely held, when pressed). I always ask that they at least remember our conversation when they’re at the ballot box. — Michael
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I am not surprised that a study shows that protests have little impact on changing minds. I tend to view my participation as akin to choosing to attend a religious service. I go if I have a strong need to be around people who think like I do. I glean support from shared energy, attitudes and problem solving. I don’t harbor the illusion that my signs and marching create actual change. I have friends and family who attend every protest. I would hate to think that our love and friendship is lost because I don’t. — Alyce
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I live in a very red area. Protests around here have been very well received, with far more people agreeing with us each time we hit the streets. And we’ve had a number of people express relief that they aren’t alone in their thinking. What else is the letter writer’s friend doing? Does she call her elected representatives? Does she donate to groups who support her opinions? Is she supporting work around issues that even some MAGA folks agree with her on? (Even in my deep-red district, many are angry about cuts to the National Park Service, cuts to health care, tax cuts for the wealthy and now the government shutdown.) Rather than continuing to push the friend to protest, the letter writer should encourage her to express her views in ways that are less immediately visible but can affect the decisions that are being made in Washington. — Helen
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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