I was recently at a family gathering and, in the course of the conversation, casually mentioned that I had always wanted to take a DNA test and find out more about the background of our family history. When I said that, my cousin reacted strongly, saying that she didn’t want any family member to take one and have their DNA in the hands of an organization or government that might use it with malicious intent. She feels uncomfortable with having related DNA in the system, because she worries this data will somehow triangulate back to her. She has not committed any crimes, but for her this is a serious privacy issue. My family is small, and my cousin has always been my closest family member. We speak several times a week, so taking the test and hiding it from her feels wrong, but I’m not sure if her wishes in this case override mine. How much am I required to consider her feelings about this? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
The National Human Genome Research Institute says that we humans share 99.9 percent of our genetic makeup. Of the other 0.1 percent, you and a first cousin will share, on average, 12.5 percent of your DNA (with a range, according to 23andMe, from 4 percent to 23 percent). Because what DNA you share is a result of random processes, it won’t be possible to tell much about her genetic makeup from yours. The fact that you have genes associated with some health condition, for instance, doesn’t mean that she does.
I can imagine scenarios — in which, say, she left blood at a crime scene or had placed a child for adoption — where investigators might conclude that they’re looking for a cousin of yours. But it doesn’t sound as if she’s worried about finding new relatives or being nabbed for a crime. In principle, certain inferences about her base-line probabilities could be affected by having your DNA data; if you had a genetic predisposition to some health condition, her odds of having it — absent additional information — would be higher than average. (Note that employers and health insurers in the United States and many other countries are prohibited by law from discriminating on the basis of genetics.) Yet it seems very unlikely that someone with malicious intent is going to be able to make much of this. And to let yourself be trammeled by hypothetical harms so indeterminate we can’t even spell them out can lead to a pretty straitened existence.
In the end, your cousin’s objections, as you describe them, come across as less reasoned vigilance than mistrustful vibe. And it seems unfair that you should have to give up on joining an ancestry site owing to a vibe. Still, she’s family, someone with whom you have, and will want to maintain, a warm and trusting relationship. So try to talk the matter through — discussing the knowable facts, her fears and your hopes.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from a reader who was unsure of what to do with an object she inherited. She wrote: “I own a Nazi helmet my husband, now deceased, inherited from his father. For a long time it didn’t bother me; it only left me wondering about the soldier who wore it. But with the resurgence in white supremacy, neo-fascism and antisemitism, I am now very uncomfortable with it. I can’t seem to figure out what to do with it. I don’t think a museum would be interested in it. I certainly would never sell it, being uneasy about who might buy it. Donating it to a theater costume shop is a possibility. Or should I save it as a piece of history for my great-grandchildren to learn from?”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “From what I understand, people who collect World War II helmets are typically military-history buffs who don’t identify with the politics of the regimes their wearers fought for. … Besides, the standard German combat helmet of that period was minimally decorated, and probably less than ideal for those looking to dress up as Nazis. … The fact that an object can play a role in someone’s creepy imaginative life doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t own it. Almost anything can play a role in a creepy imaginative life. What’s wrong with people who collect Nazi memorabilia out of a rooting interest isn’t their objects; it’s their morally repugnant attitudes. Keep it, donate it, sell it — just don’t endow the helmet with talismanic powers.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
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I believe it is important and necessary to evaluate the ethical implications of how we interact with historical artifacts. However, it seems to me that the letter writer is quite clear in expressing her own moral judgments. She explicitly states that she would never sell the helmet. Rather than suggest that the writer reconsider that decision, I would suggest that she re-examine her assumption that a museum would be uninterested in the artifact, and consult resources on how to transfer objects with such history in a way that allows others to learn from them. I would also like to push back on Dr. Appiah’s suggestion that a combat helmet is “probably less than ideal for those looking to dress up as Nazis.” Perhaps this helmet does not contain the type of insignia that may be found on a “parade” helmet, or other objects from Nazi Germany, but it can certainly satisfy the purposes of a Nazi glorifier. — Brennan
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The letter writer may wish to sell the helmet and donate the proceeds to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington or a similar organization. It would certainly ease her conscience knowing that some good came from the loathsome object. — Lisa
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I agree with all that the Ethicist wrote but would add one option — destroy the helmet and put it in the garbage. Somehow I think that the letter writer may be more satisfied if she could smash it up! — David B.
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Our family faced a similar problem. My wife’s maternal grandfather was an officer in the Ku Klux Klan. Among his effects were printed materials, an embosser and other items. We offered them to the Oregon Historical Society, and asked, should they be displayed, that the provenance be listed as “an Anonymous Donor.” — Steve
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My father, a Cuban citizen of Scottish descent living in Cuba, joined the Canadian Black Watch, an elite regiment, in 1942 because he wanted to fight Hitler. His unit swept through northern France in the summer of 1944 and suffered many casualties. He brought back a Nazi flag, a dagger with a swastika on the handle, a “potato masher” grenade filled with sand and a Walther P38 sidearm, gotten I think from a German officer. He was neither a Nazi sympathizer — he joined the Black Watch to fight the Nazis! — nor did he hold morally repugnant attitudes of any sort. After getting out of Cuba, my mother, who followed him a few days later, brought the flag with her. I inherited it. I still have it, stashed in a closet. I had forgotten about it until I read this column. The flag is a reminder of my father’s service in the Black Watch. The letter writer’s deceased husband may simply have regarded it as a war souvenir inherited from his father, who perhaps picked it up on a battlefield. — David T.
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