My mother, a two-time Trump voter in Florida, has moved closer to us in a safely blue state. While I don’t know what her vote was in the 2024 presidential election, it wouldn’t have affected the outcome. I strongly oppose Trump, as do my wife and her family, who live nearby. I’m troubled by my mother’s support of someone I consider morally abhorrent and dangerous, especially when she voted in a former swing state.
With the result of the 2024 election, my wife and her family are directing their understandable fury at my mother. My wife’s sister said, ‘‘If she voted for Trump again, I’m completely done with her.’’ I expect that the next time they interact it will not be pretty. But my mother is a member of our family, and an invaluable caregiver to our children. She’s pleasant and kind in daily life and moved far from her home primarily for us and her grandkids. And she is my mother, after all.
I’m torn. My wife and her family expect me to brook no compromise and to speak out on an issue that feels existential to them (as it does to me), but because I know that her vote here doesn’t make a difference, I have trouble feeling motivated to admonish her for her past and possibly present support of Trump. At the very least, they don’t think I should expect them to be anything other than completely unfiltered with my mother.
I appreciate the sacrifices my mother has made to be near our family and our children, and our kids love their grandma. And she is the woman who raised me. But my wife and her family will be channeling their anger at one of the few Trump voters they personally know. And my mother expects me to intervene and speak up for her or to encourage my wife’s family to be more civil. She sees her vote as a ‘‘personal choice’’ and doesn’t seem to believe that she should be criticized for it.
Ethically, is it wrong for me to hold my tongue or to try to negotiate the peace even though I agree with the substance of my wife’s family’s position? If I try to protect my mother from vitriol, would I be betraying myself, or my wife and her family, in order to preserve harmony and child care? Or would I be justified in suggesting that we all lay down our arms, given that her vote no longer affects the national outcome? If I try to completely opt out of having a role in this conflict, am I doing a disservice to all parties involved? What do we owe to ourselves and the respective warring sides in a situation such as this? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
This is a sad but not unusual story. Political scientists have identified a form of animus they sometimes call partyism, which they try to measure in various ways. They can ask respondents whether people of the other political party have positive traits (generosity, say, or honesty), or bad ones (selfishness, untrustworthiness); they can ask what people think about being friends with supporters of the other party or about their children marrying across the partisan divide. Since at least 2000, the research suggests, people’s positive feelings about their own party have stayed roughly constant; the big drop, which has intensified since 2016, is in positive feelings toward the other side. In an era when few Americans are still bothered by interracial marriage, recent surveys find that a large percentage of people who identify as Democrats or Republicans want their children to marry within the party. And the trend isn’t just found in this country: Partyism swamps other sources of intergroup hostility in Britain, Belgium and Spain, too.
One way in which these attitudes can be rationalized is by insisting that members of the other party are making the wrong choices because they are wicked or stupid or both. Yet voting for morally reprehensible candidates doesn’t mean you necessarily share their vices. You will almost certainly be voting with a focus on the good things you hope they will do or with the belief that they will do more good than their opponents. You might have gotten something wrong — about how the world works, about what they will do, about what is good. Others can complain that you didn’t do your due diligence. Still, most Democrats, like most Republicans, are bound to have a lot of erroneous beliefs about what their candidate would have done. A preponderance of voters will fall short when it comes to meeting the standards of due diligence.
At the same time, your mother is, as you say, mistaken to speak of her vote as if it were nobody else’s business. For these purposes, the causal consequences of how she voted, in one state or another, is a distraction. It isn’t that any of us is casting the determining vote; it’s that we’re joining with others to achieve the results we favor, collectively sharing responsibility for the outcome if we succeed. And because she has been open about her previous two votes, people who know her are entitled to ask her why she cast them. If they can’t make sense of her answer, they’re free to reproach her or express their disappointment. That goes for you as well: Treating your mother with respect means being honest about your views.
But it doesn’t mean cudgeling her with them. Once you’ve said your piece and listened to what she has to say in her defense, repeating the same arguments over and over would be the act of a bully. Citizens, let alone family members, shouldn’t be eager to direct vitriol against people whose political views they don’t share. If the rest of your family wants to go on doing that, you should tell them that they’re being unkind and unhelpful. Partyism is a morally debased form of political discourse. A friend of mine who is active in progressive politics and served in the Biden administration has a mother who voted for Trump. The mother, who is Black, Southern and religiously devout, is a single-issue voter: She’s fervently opposed to abortion. My friend deeply disagrees with her mother’s position but finds it intelligible. They’ve made their peace.
I hope the members of your family will too. Today, family gatherings routinely unite Catholics and Protestants, Jews and gentiles, Baptists and Episcopalians, Blacks and whites and Latinos and Asians; not so long ago, they could unite Democrats and Republicans. In perfect harmony? Far from it. But it helps to remember people are more than the sum of their political views — and that intolerance has a habit of breeding intolerance.
Readers Respond
Last week’s question was from a perturbed reader. She wrote: “Not long ago, my daughter-in-law, sister, cousin and I were waiting for a table in a family-style restaurant, close to the exit. A middle-aged man had been eyeing my daughter-in-law. On his way out, he paused as he passed us, and said to her, ‘With all due respect, you are very attractive.’ Feeling both protective and offended, I said to him, ‘That is wholly inappropriate, sir.’ My cousin snapped at me that it was only a compliment. My sister got mad at me for upsetting my cousin. My daughter-in-law appreciated my reaction but said that she has had ‘way creepier men say way creepier things to her.’ I responded to them all that a stranger has no business commenting on the looks of a person, good or bad, and that this man would never have said a word if any man had been standing with us. Who is right?”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “In our society, it was once thought gallant for men to remark on the appearance of women they found attractive. That custom reflected sexist ideas about the relations between women and men. It presupposed, for example, that women should care about whether male strangers, in whom they have displayed no interest, found them attractive, and be pleased when they did. There are obviously social contexts in which flirtation is generally considered appropriate — e.g., at a singles bar or a college ‘mixer,’ to stick to the meat-space world. But in ordinary settings? It’s now widely understood that expressions of sexual interest are something you work up to only if the other party has given you reason to suppose that they might be appreciated. In such settings, invoking someone’s attractiveness, as an opening remark to a complete stranger, is discourteous and wrong.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
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I read both the question and the answer with great interest. I have been complimented on my appearance; I think it comes from the fact that I’m 83 years old and in good shape for my age. But I have to say that I really enjoyed the “wolf whistles” I used to get when I was a teenager and young woman. If someone complimented me today, I would smile and say thank you. — Carol
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I’ve been the subject of catcalls. With all the rage in my 38-year-old female heart, I’ll say that people need to stop treating women as objects to be ogled. There is a world of difference between “You are absolutely beautiful” and “That dress is amazing.” I chose the dress — it is an expression of my agency. If you enjoy complimenting strangers, compliment their choices, not their existence. — Stacey
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I get the point of the Ethicist’s response in this instance, I guess. But is such a remark always sexual? Can it sometimes be aesthetic admiration? I know we are in new times with a new set of rules, but if a person looks especially wonderful, is it not OK to tell them so? And does this prohibition of compliments on personal attractiveness apply to men as well? I found the Ethicist’s remarks way too condemnatory. It feels like we’re canceling a whole avenue of discourse. This kind of rigidity, not only in this area but many others, has made spontaneous conversation like walking on eggshells. — Anthony
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I think the letter writer’s response was not only appropriate, it was laudable. (I wonder if I would have had the courage to respond in that situation. I hope so.) While women are certainly capable of speaking up for themselves in such situations, I believe it’s also incumbent upon men to call each other out for this kind of sexist, predatory behavior. We’re probably going to have to endure a few more generations of awkward social moments as we course-correct our lamentable patriarchal presumption, but it’s a small price to pay for doing our part to help women garner the level of respect and care they deserve. — Steven
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I disagree. There is nothing wrong in the Ethicist’s response regarding the changes in our societal norms. Although I am a lifelong feminist and an attorney who has spent years prosecuting sex offenses and disciplinary proceedings for sexual harassment and gender discrimination, in my private life I am equally offended by women who don’t have the grace to accept a well-intended compliment. A kind response to a kind word may have been more appropriate than to cause embarrassment to someone who was truly expressing appreciation, not hitting on the recipient. — Margaret
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I am an 81-year-old man, but I can still observe a well-dressed, attractive woman (or a man for that matter) at any age, and should be able to compliment her without reservation. — William
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Bravo to the letter writer for her response to the situation, and also to the Ethicist’s reply! As a female, from a very young age until at least my late 30s, middle-aged (and older) men who were complete strangers to me regularly gave me similar random and unwanted “compliments” like “Smile!” or “You’re looking lovely today” while I was walking down the street after school or shopping in the supermarket, etc. The interactions were creepy and made me feel uncomfortable, especially when the men seemed to be waiting for a response. I wish I’d had someone like the letter writer to back me up. — Alice
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While the stranger’s comment was inappropriate, so too was the letter writer’s. Her presumptuous reply disrespected her daughter-in-law’s agency to speak for herself and reduced her to the status of a child needing protection. A better approach would have been to wait until the man left and then ask her companions how they felt about the incident. After hearing and sincerely considering their viewpoints, she could have offered her own. This might have generated a thoughtful discussion among adult women, instead of the hurt feelings that actually ensued. — Mimi
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