I have been married for eight years, and I’m starting the process of divorce. In the beginning of the marriage, we contributed equally to the household expenses. Over the last few years, I have cut back my hours and have taken lower-paying, more meaningful work. In the meantime, my spouse has had increased responsibility and pay at work. She has taken on most of the household expenses. We have discussed changing our lifestyle in order to allow her to get a less-stressful, lower-paying job, but she decided not to pursue that. Additionally, she has been financially generous with my grown children from a previous marriage, helping to pay for weddings and down payments on homes.
We live in an “equitable distribution” state, which allows for equal distribution of marital assets in a divorce. So I have the legal right to half of our marital assets. What is ethical, considering that I did not provide an equal share during the marriage and considering my spouse’s generosity to my children? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
When you entered the marriage, you evidently thought of your financial fates as joined, and spent money without a lot of regard for mine and thine. So, in the usual way, you weren’t thinking about what would happen if the union came to an end. In most marriages, it’s hard to make a precise accounting of what each spouse put into their common life, or to distinguish clearly between an asset held jointly and one that a spouse thought of as a personal possession.
The idea of equitable distribution is, in turn, meant to grant flexibility in how things are divvied up; the division is supposed to be fair but not necessarily equal. This system means that a court can give weight to how much spouses put into a marriage (including nonfinancial contributions) and to their future needs. So you may well find an “equitable distribution” — not to be confused with an equal distribution — to be an agreeable one.
Still, living in an equitable-distribution state — and most states are — doesn’t stop you two from agreeing to something other than what a court would allocate. The same is true for “community property” states, where the aim really is a 50-50 division of assets acquired during the marriage. Either way, two people can make their own decision about splitting assets in an uncontested divorce, as long as it’s mutually agreed on, informed and not glaringly unfair. If you’d like, you can propose using a mediator to arrive at a distribution that reflects differences you view as significant.
Where we may disagree is on the question of whether a just allocation of assets in a divorce has to reflect what each party materially brought to and put into the household. There are many ways in which such an approach can result in unfairness. And when there’s no obviously fairest way to distribute goods, the best we can do is to identify a procedure aimed at producing a widely acceptable outcome — and likely to offer some protection to the most vulnerable. You’re concerned about getting more than you deserve. Yet what we “deserve,” in the end, can depend on the rules and institutional frameworks that we’ve collectively settled upon.
A Bonus Question
My mother-in-law recently died and left behind some unpaid credit-card bills. The charges on the cards were clearly hers, and her estate has enough money to cover them. In the process of settling her estate, our lawyer advised that we could wait for credit-card companies to approach the estate for debt settlement. One company offered to settle for half of the total amount owed. This is the company’s standard operating procedure; we did not solicit any such accommodation. And now we are left debating the ethics of such a deal.
My husband feels that because we did not solicit the deal or practice deception to obtain it, we are ethically free to accept it. I feel that because we do not dispute the charges and my mother-in-law made them in the expectation that she would pay the debt, we are ethically bound to pay the full amount. — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
People have two different understandings of financial debt. Some people think they’re making a moral commitment when they sign up for credit; as a matter of self-respect, they want to be the kind of people who pay what they owe. If your mother-in-law held this view, she would not have been happy to know you were going to fail to honor her debts. (Notice that familiar verb: “honor.”) According to the other view, consumer credit is an artifact of a complicated system of rules and regulations, and you need pay only what you are legally required to.
My guess is that the first, “honor” view was once predominant, and that nowadays most people hold to the second, procedural view. I admit I find myself drawn to that older view, but I can’t make a compelling argument for it. A 50-percent discount for deceased customers has presumably proved a cost-efficient means of collecting unsecured debt, by reducing hassles and delays. Given that credit-card companies collect billions of dollars in interest and fees each year — $130 billion in 2022, according to the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau’s biennial report — there’s a case for not second-guessing their business model on the rare occasions that it breaks in your favor.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from a reader who was concerned about her friendship. She wrote: “A best friend of 20 years — someone with whom I’m usually politically aligned — recently posted something political and inflammatory on Instagram. I strongly disagreed with her point of view, and the ‘evidence’ she used to bolster her case felt speculative at best and conspiracy-theory-adjacent at worst. I immediately texted her, telling her as much. And while I was grateful that she did end up calling me, I lost my temper as soon as I realized that she wouldn’t accept differing evidence. I yelled, and she yelled back. In the following days, however, it became clear to her that what she posted was misinformation, and after some emailing, she gave a milquetoast, formal apology to me. After another couple of weeks, I also apologized to her for losing my temper. And yet the friendship still feels terminally damaged. We aren’t speaking. What should you do when you see that a close friend, someone who considers herself an advocate for truth and justice, posts something not only untrue but also damaging to good-faith arguments in general?”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “It was good that you contacted your friend and set her right. And yes, once she accepted that she’d erred, she should have retracted her post. But the damage to your relationship wasn’t done by your correcting her or by her taking her time to accept that she was wrong. It was done by your losing your temper. Your friend made one kind of mistake with an ill-judged post. You made another in blowing up at her. (And your apology took longer than hers to arrive.) But none of that means that the friendship has to come to an end. If you aren’t speaking to each other, that’s something you have a chance to change by calling her. … But there’s a bigger issue here. We can’t run a republic together if we don’t allow our fellow citizens to get things wrong. Becoming estranged over a lapse in political judgment is especially unhelpful, because it breaks the bonds that are necessary for people to exchange ideas about politics in their social networks (including, say, an Instagram Close Friends list). Exchanging ideas is a central part of political participation; it allows us to change one another’s minds.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
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The Ethicist’s response is spot on. I’d add two points. One, I fear this type of situation may become more common with the rapid advancement of A.I. making things we would have previously dismissed seem irrefutably proven. We should all foster the habit of extending grace to one another as we navigate this new world together. Second, our response when a friend posts something alarming should be rooted in the relationship. If that happens, I feel we should ask ourselves if the post is in keeping with what we know of the other person’s character and, if not, we should give them the benefit of the doubt that there’s more going on than meets the eye. — John
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I disagree with the Ethicist’s response. Much of the disinformation that makes its way to social media is dangerous and can be spread across the globe in a matter of seconds. The internet amplifies the messaging of nefarious groups and can often put others in peril. The erosion of the truth through social media is a destructive force that extends beyond individuals acting irresponsibly online; they are duped into participating in these calculated assaults by elements waging destructive campaigns on our society. So, losing one’s cool while trying to correct such deceitfulness is not only forgivable, showing emotion is a natural and necessary response to stop the spread of such falsehoods. — Cliff
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I suggest that we become alarmed not by the opposing views of other people, but by the way using the internet is speeding up our responses. We are in thrall to the abrupt and significant shifts in dopamine which are caused by internet use, most markedly on social media. We are using powerful drugs. There is the rush, the perhaps unconscious desire to replicate the rush, and there is habituation and addiction. And, when we log off, there is withdrawal. I feel the changes right now; and when I have finished sending this message off, I will feel the withdrawal. — Mary
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What we call political opinions are often really ethical differences. For example, comments supporting racism or an authoritarian who seeks to take away democratic freedoms are not political opinions, but ethical wrongs. Calling out ethical malignancies is necessary to protect and promote a just society. And nonviolent angry responses to unjust dangerous sentiments are sometimes useful to communicate the unacceptable nature of certain attitudes. I could not be friends with someone whose values demean people of different color, religion or sexual orientation. It is not enough that a friend treat me well, they must treat others well, too. — Naomi
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I generally agree that political disagreements should not damage or end friendships. As a matter of fact, in years past I enjoyed the lunge, parry and riposte of a good political argument. It was possible for me to understand the positions of my longtime friends and defend them. But Jan. 6, 2021 changed that. — Rick