I am struggling through a politically mixed marriage. I didn’t sign on for this. Long ago, we had similar beliefs. Now my partner is going through some spiritual and political searching that is bewildering and painful. We are divided over what is right, what is wrong and what is unknowable.
I write because we are expecting a houseguest who is a colleague and a dear friend. My friend is of Middle Eastern descent and has strong views about the war in Gaza. (For background’s sake, my spouse and I are American and identify loosely as Christian/Catholic.) I want my guest to be comfortable, and I want to avoid discomfort, too. I would be mortified to have to warn my friend in advance about what we’re going through in our marriage. My partner has responded poorly to my past requests to limit certain behaviors around my friends. I need to find a balance when it comes to enjoying free speech in my home, showing common courtesy to guests and supporting my spouse. Should I ask my friend to stay at a hotel? I’m struggling to be a supportive partner as my spouse explores complex issues while walking through what I think is a minefield of online radical views. — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
Two dramas are clearly unfolding here. One is personal and long-running: A marriage, once braced by shared convictions, is in trouble. The other is immediate and concrete: the risk that your spouse will say something boorishly provocative to a guest you value.
If the marriage were steady, the second wouldn’t be an issue: You could trust your partner to set politics aside for a night. The disturbing fact is that you can’t. Putting aside the particular beliefs at stake, what’s at issue is your spouse’s want of tact and indifference to your concerns. Spouses who won’t temper themselves even briefly for the sake of their partners’ peace of mind aren’t just “searching” politically. They’re failing at the small, sustaining courtesies that make a life together possible.
As a host, you have an obligation to shield your guest from discomfort. So the practical solution is just not asking your friend to stay in your home. But the deeper problem concerns a partner who seems unwilling, or unable, to grant you even the small accommodation you seek. It also concerns you, and what it costs to “support” a spouse who has drifted into what feels to you like a minefield. Silence and patience can easily curdle into avoidance, even resentment. Counseling might give you both a way to talk about what’s going on here. Your friend’s visit is a small problem with a clear solution. Your marriage is the larger, harder one. It deserves more than watchful endurance.
A Bonus Question
My friend and I applied for the same job. I actually applied after he did, and now he’s upset — he says I’m blocking his chances. It’s true that he applied first, but I was the one who told him about the possible opening.
When I reached out to the department chair, I simply asked whether there were any leadership roles available; I didn’t inquire about a specific position. It was the chairman who decided to interview me for the same position. Later, I told my friend. Since then, he has refused to speak to me, even though I even helped him prepare for his interview. Did I do something wrong? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
Your friend’s resentment is hardly mysterious. From his perspective, you knew of his pursuit, then positioned yourself as a direct competitor. That doesn’t make his sense of betrayal rational. You’re presumably one contender among others; his success depends on outshining a bunch of people, not just you. And as you explain, you weren’t originally going for this particular slot — you shared the lead with him, even helped him prepare. Human beings are alert, sometimes hyperalert, to betrayal, but being an adult means interrogating such urges, aligning the heart’s howl with the mind’s measure. You acted transparently and in good faith; the rest is for him to reconcile.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from a reader who felt conflicted about whether to move to his dream neighborhood in Mexico City, fearing that he would be contributing to its gentrification. He wrote:
“I’m a Mexican citizen and a U.S. permanent resident. I come from a working-class family, but thanks to my parents’ hard work and many sacrifices, I was able to attend top schools. After going to college in Mexico City, I lived there in Condesa/Roma — an area that was already expensive and being gentrified. Even as a relatively privileged Mexican with a college degree, I felt that buying there was out of reach. … Now, seven years later, I’m in a position to buy a home in that same place. But the prices shock me: They’re comparable to small homes in the San Francisco Bay Area, where I currently rent. A wave of foreigners has moved in, and the signs of gentrification are unmistakable. … I’m torn. I can finally afford to live in the area I once only dreamed of calling home. But buying there feels like participating in the very dynamics that have pushed out others. Is it ethical for me to buy there?” — Name Withheld
In his response, the Ethicist noted:
“Increasingly, researchers see ‘gentrification’ less as a cause than a symptom of housing scarcity and the lag between wages and housing costs. Some ask why public debate fixates on the troubles of neighborhoods getting richer when the opposite is far more common — and far harder on low-income residents. One plausible argument is that we should retire the word “gentrification” altogether and speak plainly about what actually matters: affordability and displacement. … The decision of whether to buy in a rapidly appreciating area is often cast as a moral test. In reality, the transformation is already well advanced; the property you don’t buy will be bought by someone else. The real question is how you choose to inhabit the place. If you help sustain the civic and cultural life that first drew you in and act like a neighbor rather than an investor, then buying the home you once dreamed of isn’t just defensible; it may even soften, in some modest way, the forces you’re worried about.”
(Reread the full question and answer here.)
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Nearly 20 years ago, I wrote a master’s thesis titled “The Ambivalence of Gentrifiers.” In the years following, the worries about gentrification — or, as you rightly point out, about affordability and displacement — have been ever-present anxieties that work against solving our housing crisis. The Ethicist and I are on the same page: Invest in the community wherever you make your home. — Alison
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A lot of times, the word “gentrification” is used when it comes to the intersectionality of color and class. As an African American who witnessed gentrification in my own neighborhood in Brooklyn while growing up, I saw the effects and the cultural loss there. I then experienced conflicted feelings when I moved to another predominantly African-American neighborhood in Atlanta, part of a higher-income pack of New Yorkers that moved to the South in the early 2000s. I feel like the letter writer’s case is similar. As he is Mexican and is returning home, even though he is in a higher income bracket, he will participate in and contribute to the culture there rather than taking away from it. He could also connect with the youth in the area who are struggling with gentrification and share how he made a successful life for himself. — Loren
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Raising the living standards of a community — sometimes known as “gentrification” — is a welcome development. But existing, modest-income residents can be adversely affected and forced to move. Rigid rent control — defined as a modest annual increase in rent, often tied to the Consumer Price Index, for existing residents only — is a workable solution. New renters should face market prices, which is not only equitable but also ensures that housing supply will increase if warranted by market forces. — Bob
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The primary issue facing longtime residents when property values increase: Property taxes rise, too. I lived in a city neighborhood where the values skyrocketed and forced residents to sell and move to less desirable neighborhoods. My neighbor, a retired widow, became a babysitter to pay the taxes and keep her family home. — Mary Anne
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Several years ago, I went to a ceremony at the University of California, Berkeley, for those graduating in public health. Most of the speakers mentioned the “problem” of gentrification in Oakland. When I attended Berkeley 60 years ago, the problem was the reverse: White flight from Oakland had increased segregation and undermined the tax base that supported schools and the police. Both de-gentrification and gentrification have their pluses and minuses, and different people are harmed in different ways under each. But it seems to me that if a city’s housing supply is upgraded, there are fewer food deserts and more rather than fewer people want to live there, then gentrification should be viewed as a positive. And if one is seriously concerned about the price of housing, then one should be against the impediments to increasing the supply of housing. — Donald
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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