My husband’s family has a trust that owns rental properties. One of them is a commercial property with several tenants. One of the tenants is Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), and they use it as a “short-term holding facility” (their description).
We receive income from the trust, which earns money from several other things as well; it’s all bundled together. Figuring out what portion of my rental income comes from the ICE client is not possible, as the family member who manages it declines to go to the trouble, which I understand is considerable.
I feel pretty horrible about getting money from an immigration prison, but I’m the only beneficiary of the trust who cares. I could resign from the trust, but my husband of 50 years would get my share — and anyway, our funds are completely mingled.
I’m not sure you can make me feel any better about this, but I’m curious about the ethics of receiving money from an entity you consider kind of evil. I went to a lot of Catholic schools, including a Jesuit university. I don’t know all the finer points, but it feels unethical. My husband and his family think this is ridiculous. What is your opinion? Is there a correct action? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
It’s understandable that you’re troubled. Court rulings, investigative reporting and firsthand accounts have shown that ICE has acted in ways that not only harm noncitizens but also erode the rights of citizens.
Even so, the existence of an immigration-enforcement agency isn’t inherently the problem. Most people accept that states have a right to control their borders and that there’s a legitimate role for authorities charged with enforcing immigration policy, especially when it comes to those who have committed serious crimes. ICE also investigates trafficking, smuggling and other transnational offenses that clearly require federal oversight.
The core issue is less the agency’s mandate than its methods. Well-documented abuses — denials of due process, inhumane conditions and politically motivated enforcement — have undermined public trust and raised serious ethical concerns. The worry is not whether immigration law should be enforced but how, and at what human cost.
The holding facilities ICE uses are part of this system: They house people awaiting deportation, court appearances or further investigation. What’s in dispute isn’t the need for such spaces; it’s the treatment of detainees within those spaces. Many facilities have drawn criticism for degrading or dangerous conditions. Still, as a beneficiary of a trust that rents a property to ICE, your leverage is minuscule. You can’t unilaterally break the lease. Even if you could, ICE would simply relocate its facility. And while moral complicity is a serious concern, receiving income from a legal tenant, however problematic, isn’t generally considered an ethical transgression on its own.
We’re all entangled in systems we don’t control. As citizens, we’re already implicated in the actions of government agencies that act in our name and that we help fund. If those actions are shameful, they cast a shadow on all of us. But that shared entanglement also opens the door to shared responsibility — and response.
You mentioned your Jesuit university. You’ll probably remember, then, the emphasis placed on “discernment” — not just abstract moral reasoning but the habit of examining one’s own position in the world, with clarity and courage, and then acting on that understanding. So here’s one constructive path: If this money feels tainted, redirect it. Use it to support organizations that advocate for the rights you believe ICE has violated — groups like the A.C.L.U., the American Immigration Council or local legal-aid nonprofits that provide support for detainees. Back candidates pushing for humane immigration reform. It’s a way to turn your sense of passive complicity into a measure of active redress. You may not be able to change the trust’s lease, but you can choose what your share of the proceeds stands for.
A Bonus Question
While hiking along a trail next to a river in the Sierras this past weekend, my buddy and I unexpectedly encountered a public area where several other hikers (men and women) apparently park themselves au naturel. They weren’t hiking but instead were on full display in their birthday suits, sunning themselves like turtles on large boulders in the middle of the river, 300 feet away. Some were having lunch, reading books, etc. I couldn’t stop looking, gawking, staring, enjoying (albeit briefly).
My hiking companion said, “Move along,” like a stormtrooper from “Star Wars.” I said they had no reasonable expectation of privacy, and if they didn’t want to be seen, they could have found a secluded beach. Besides, how was I (or anyone) not going to look? What were we supposed to do — avert our eyes? They couldn’t see us clearly, nor we them, and of course others were passing by, too. We paused for a moment, assessed the situation — and just kept walking, appreciating the gift from Mother Nature.
What are the ethics of this situation? Glimpse and go? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
There are two sides to this situation. On the one hand, if people are sunbathing in the nude within viewing distance of a public trail, they have, I agree, effectively accepted being seen. Not noticing would require a monk’s discipline — or a pair of very dark sunglasses. It isn’t as if you scoped them out with a telephoto lens.
On the other hand, there’s a huge difference between noticing and ogling. An appreciative glance is OK; treating the whole thing as an impromptu peep show is not. You pass, you nod, your boots keep moving. Mother Nature shrugs.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from a mother who wanted to talk with her son about his presumed sexual orientation. She wrote: “Over the past few years, it has become evident to me that my younger son is most likely gay. … His life is getting increasingly complicated. I don’t want to push him to come out before he’s ready, but I’d love to be able to have honest conversations about some of what he’s going through. Should I wait and let him come out when he’s ready, or is there a way I can save him the trouble?”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “I get why you want to spare him the awkward dance of coming out, but for many young people, it’s a way to claim an identity on their terms. … Pressing fast-forward could leave him with the sense that he has lost a measure of agency — that a big moment has been pre-empted. It could also make him feel exposed or rushed. There are all sorts of ways that you can indicate your loving acceptance and reassure him that you’ll be a soft place to land. Indeed, I’m sure you’ve already done so. When he’s ready, you’ll be there — arms open, heart steady, no script needed.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
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As a queer person, there is no need to rush the process. Part of coming out is learning how to say, “This is who I am, and you can accept me or not,” which takes unbelievable strength and vulnerability. Another thing to consider is maybe he doesn’t know what to come out as; it is not as black-and-white as “gay” or “straight.” Maybe he is still trying to figure out where his identity lies. Or maybe he is not gay at all! Either way, it’s hard to learn to let your parents into your identity as it’s growing and changing every day, especially as a teenager. Without a doubt, he’s extremely lucky to have such a proactive and accepting parent. — Fern
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My son dropped hints here and there as he entered his preteen years, and at one point, he asked how I felt about gay people, so I was prepared. What he always saw in our household was acceptance for L.G.B.T.Q.+ people, so when he did come to us at age 12 and told us he was gay, my husband said, “Well, that’s who you are.” Let your son come to you in his own time, and let him embrace his identity on his own. Don’t lay it on him. It’s who he is. — Jennifer
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There is no “one size fits all’ approach for any gender-expansive kid. Suggesting that we always wait for youth to approach us regarding their “coming out” journey feels too much like an absolute. I yearned for my mom or dad to simply notice how different I was as a kid and engage me in conversations about my own identity and exploration. All children need to be affirmed constantly. And marginalized youth need that affirmation even more, because sometimes the only place we are getting it is in the home. — Kulwa
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I think it’s healthiest to let the individual come out to friends and family when they feel comfortable. I encourage parents to educate themselves on acceptance; GLAAD and PFLAG are excellent resources for parents, friends and other family members. Remember, be kind! — Monica
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His choices need to be his own. Forcing him to discuss this might not be helpful when the issue does not need to be forced. There is, of course, no substitute for knowing that he has the love and support of his family in all aspects of his life. I do not regret the years I spent as straight, and the relationships I had with women enriched my life. I do not regret coming out when I did, when I was ready, when I was sure. — Brad
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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