When I was a child, I was sexually abused by my brother, who was then in his late teens. Now I am close to his adult children, although far from him. They know nothing of this, nor will I ever tell them as long as I live; I know it would tear the family apart.
I occasionally think, however, that this knowledge would be something I would like to have if I were his son. I can imagine asking his children if they would like to know anything troubling about their father once he and I are gone. If everyone said yes, I could put the information in a letter and leave it with my lawyer and my will. If they said no, I wouldn’t write a letter.
On the one hand, it seems like a terrible thing to tell someone’s offspring about a parent, but on the other hand, once we’re both dead, the knowledge dies with us. And I wonder if this is something I wish I had known about my own father. What if they have vague memories of something similar happening to them? Perhaps the knowledge would be beneficial to them in seeking help. My nieces and nephews are between 40 and 50 years old. And they would have the choice to know. — Name withheld
From the ethical:
I am all for living with a realistic image of the people in our lives. But this ideal does not tell us how to think about the course of action you are contemplating. If he had any evidence that his brother had abused his own children, or anyone else’s, he would no doubt have tried to intervene to protect them. What you say motivates you is more conjectural: you think your nieces and nephews might want to know about this deeply painful experience.
Maybe they really wanted to know; maybe they would regret ever telling them. What matters, at this point, is whether the disclosure would improve their well-being. What happened to you probably happened over half a century ago. The things our parents did before we were born are usually not central to our lives; So they were different people. What’s more, in the plan you present, your nieces and nephews would hear your story late in their own lives, after you and your brother were dead.
So your goal can’t be to prevent the damage, and yet you could end up causing it. The revelation could well play a huge and perhaps distorting role in the way his brother’s children think about him. The information would certainly be difficult for them to take in without any of you around to answer questions. They could only guess what his brother thought about his report; he would have no opportunity to express remorse.
He would hardly improve his plan by asking these middle-aged men and women if they wanted to receive a posthumous bomb. They would be left with diffuse suspicions. Relationships can be interrupted without a clear reason. Right, they could go ask their father what you might be talking about. You would then be free to choose to discuss with them what you think happened between the two of you. Still, he might well feel that this would benefit no one. (Or, of course, you could insist that you’re delusional.)
Although she’s decided she doesn’t want to tell people now, lest the information tear the family apart, the emotional repercussions may not change much when her brother isn’t around to apologize—or, for that matter, explain or deny . You should ask yourself if you are motivated by a longing for justice beyond the grave, because what you are contemplating would not do justice.
One topic he doesn’t discuss is whether you and your brother have ever dealt with this episode of abuse together; it clearly remains an unhealed wound. The most important thing here, of course, is not his well-being, but yours. And a therapist could help you decide whether, despite your estrangement, it would benefit you to have your brother confront what he did to you.
readers respond
The question in the previous column was from a man wondering if he needed to be courteous to an acquaintance who made millions of dollars scamming others but has thus far escaped any legal penalty. He wrote: “I may run into him at a party one day. I would like nothing more than to start a fight and make him feel uncomfortable. I don’t think people who have done such horrible things can enjoy a normal life. But is this a fair thing? How much do I owe the party host and other guests a good time, even if I disagree with whom they choose to associate with?
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “It is a basic Kantian thought that the wicked should not prosper, that the world would be better if they faced some punishment. Social censorship would be such a sanction. …The question, then, is what do you mean by a ‘fight’. You recognize that you owe the hosts a measure of civility at a party; this rules out tipping the punch bowl on this wrongdoer’s head. But if you convey your disapproval to him without upsetting others, you would be ruining things for the hosts only if he makes a scene, and that would be his fault. … It is a truth as old as humanity: one way we uphold the values of our community is by criticizing those who violate them.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
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Although all must be responsible for bad, terrible, or criminal behavior, I don’t think a party is a good place for the letter writer to confront this offender. Everyone present, particularly the hosts, would feel unnecessarily uncomfortable. The writer needs to find more private moments and ways to do it. — Marcia
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from the acquaintance has not been charged with a crime, the letter writer must be willing to deal with the potential consequences if they are wrong about the acquaintance’s guilt. If he’s guilty, that’s easy. If he’s really innocent, that’s a whole different situation. — Bill
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I agree that the wrongdoer deserves to pay a fine, but has not been tried and found guilty. The personal certainty of the writer that this acquaintance is guilty is not enough. If he wants, he can confront the wrongdoer, but not at someone else’s party. That is extremely unfair to the host. — deborah
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The letter writer should quietly confront the wrongdoer directly by saying, “I have a hard time accepting anyone who has benefited greatly at the expense of others.” This gives the defendant the opportunity to present his own point of view or to withdraw. Also, if the writer shared his feelings with the hosts in advance and asked them if this acquaintance would also be at the party, he would let them know. — sally
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the question about how to deal with someone who embezzled a huge fortune and the ethicist’s advice miss a very important detail: a person who helps bring down a company by looting it on a staggering scale has a pathological lack of moral compass, which immunizes them from the shame. Trying to do so may be the right thing to do, but it’s useless. — Richard