I’m in my 50s and, since my college days, have been associated with a monastic organization based in India. The founder was Hindu, but he and the organization espoused universal values, and over decades I’ve deeply embraced their way of life, forming close bonds within the community.
Recently, though, I’ve noticed monks aligning with the current political regime, privately sharing content hostile to other religions in WhatsApp groups. Attempts to reason with members have failed, and dissent risks ostracism.
I’m torn between disconnecting from these groups — which are my main link to the community — and maintaining decades of cherished relationships and personal guidance. Walking away means losing my identity and community, while staying makes me feel guilty inside. — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
‘‘Exit, Voice, and Loyalty’’ — the title of a classic 1970 treatise by the great economist and political scientist Albert O. Hirschman — identified three possible responses to a dysfunctional or failing organization: leaving; speaking up for change; or just sticking it out. It’s to your credit that you’ve used your voice to challenge religious bigotry among these monastics, and in the current atmosphere of Hindutva, your worries about being shunned if you persist are doubtless warranted — it would amount to exit.
Exit, alas, means cutting off part of yourself and losing any chance to influence the group. Hirschman knew that people might combine those three strategies in various degrees, and in this spirit, you might consider selective engagement. Being part of an online group that includes people promoting a wicked agenda doesn’t make you complicit with that agenda. You can honor the organization’s core spiritual practices and original values while quietly distancing yourself from its defections from them, even if you aren’t overtly dissenting. Sometimes, as Hirschman knew, staying engaged with flawed institutions allows you to serve as a moderating presence, possibly influencing future developments from within.
In fact, Hirschman suggested that when it comes to certain misguided and menacing entities — notably, states — what we actually need from wiser policymakers is ‘‘a measure of spinelessness.’’ That way, some of them would remain ‘‘inside’’ so that, when the moment comes, they might be able to influence things. (And yes, he knew that spinelessness was something we usually had in excess.) We could dismiss all this as the rationalizations of a cosseted academic. Yet Hirschman had some firsthand experience in confronting toxic nationalism. Raised in Berlin, he pitched in with the anti-fascists as a student there, fought fascists in the Spanish Civil War, worked with the French Resistance and then, rather than retreating to safety, helped rescue thousands of people from Nazi-occupied Europe. When the stakes were grave, he thought it might be more important to have strong hands than clean hands — and to be around when you could make a difference.
A Bonus Question
I’m a woman in my 40s with severe alopecia. Doctors say I’m not a candidate for a hair transplant, and within a year I’ll be visibly balding. This is devastating; I’m already sporting a buzz cut and am not someone who can rock a bald look.
Wigs are uncomfortable and expensive, and caps and kerchiefs for chemotherapy patients aren’t durable. I’m drawn to scarves, head wraps and turbans, which feel feminine and beautiful. Yet I’m aware these styles are rooted in cultural traditions, such as those associated with African American, Islamic and certain Jewish communities.
Can I wear such head coverings respectfully without appropriating another culture? I want to feel confident without causing offense. — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
Cultural traditions — including the ways people cover their heads — are part of an evolving set of practices, and the default condition of cultural practices is to be borrowed. That’s true whether you’re Rosie the Riveter or one of my Ashanti kinfolk. (Hermès has a bustling global business based on the use of its silks as head scarves on all continents.) If women with alopecia start to wear head wraps, doing so will be the custom of their community. At the same time, the way that a woman styles her head covering is also bound to take on an individual cast, and your attire, worn with confidence, will become part of your particular way of navigating the world. Disrespect, not borrowing, is what’s objectionable, and you’re drawn to these head coverings because you admire them. My advice? Wear whatever you can rock.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from someone concerned about the implications of her husband’s charitable work. She wrote: “My husband is a physician and volunteers extensively at a rural clinic for uninsured patients. He recently won a local award for his service there. Around the same time, the large nonprofit hospital where we both work informed him that they had overpaid him for the past two years and will reduce his future pay to recover the difference. But they very generously offered to lower the repayment amount based on the number of days he spends volunteering at the clinic — essentially paying him for this work. If we agreed, we would donate back to the clinic the amount the hospital ‘‘pays’’ him; financially we’d be fine, and we’d be helping the clinic. Even so, my husband doesn’t want to be paid for something he regards as volunteer work. Because he recently won the award, we also worry that if word got out about his being paid for the work, it might smear his good name. … What to do?”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “What’s at stake for your husband is what kind of person he wants to be — and yes, what kind of person he wishes to be seen as. … You’re wondering whether you can square a concern for character with a concern for consequences. What seems obvious is that accepting the money needn’t be conceived as being paid for volunteer work, given that only the clinic would benefit. So should we dismiss his unease as vanity masquerading as ideals? Not necessarily — it may reflect his understanding that the perceived authenticity of charitable work has real implications for the broader culture of service. If people begin to doubt whether celebrated volunteer work is truly uncompensated, it could discourage others from pitching in. The point is that the good we do isn’t just a matter of immediate consequences; it can involve sustaining social institutions over the long term. Given your worries, your husband could urge the hospital to donate the relevant amount directly to the clinic instead. This would maintain the purely volunteer nature of your work while benefiting the clinic, reconciling character and consequences.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
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The glaring solution to this dilemma, in addition to the Ethicist’s good advice, is for employers not to claw money back when they’ve overpaid employees, as this can lead to hardship for those concerned. It’s the employer’s mistake, so they should accept the loss. — Tim
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Another obvious option the physician could choose would be to simply decline the hospital’s offer and accept the longer period of reduced pay. — Molly
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As a former hospital trustee, I want to weigh in. The physician could be transparent and fully disclose the details of his arrangement with the hospital. But that raises more questions. Why was the physician overpaid, and why did he not report the overpayment when it first occurred? Was he just going to keep the money he did not earn? Then there is an unintended connection between the hospital and the clinic. What would the I.R.S. say? The hospital should get out of the middle of this situation. The hospital could pay a one-time bonus to the physician and trust him to act accordingly. — John
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I worked as an internal auditor in a large public hospital, and have conducted audits of payroll. I appreciate the ethical question posed by this repayment plan, but from the hospital’s perspective, they likely have to characterize this as compensation so the repayment plan resolves the accounting and tax consequences of the overpayment. It affects Social Security and Medicare contributions, 401(k) matching, etc. Asking the hospital to give the amount directly to the rural clinic wouldn’t remediate any of those pesky accounting and legal issues. I imagine the hospital would want to count his days worked at the clinic as “worked on the hospital’s payroll,” but then donated by the hospital to the clinic. By law, nonprofit hospitals must provide a community benefit to keep their nonprofit status. Supporting a free clinic is a way of demonstrating that, and also benefits hospital operations by providing preventive and nonemergency care away from the very expensive E.R. setting. By re-characterizing the reduced clawback of the doctor’s pay as a contribution to the clinic, the hospital is shifting credit for his volunteer work to their own community-benefit obligation. I would tell the doctor to accept this resolution — but to be fair, since they are claiming a retroactive community benefit, the hospital should also make a commitment to future initiatives and services through the free clinic. — Robert
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The Ethicist is mostly correct. As a retired physician who also volunteered in free clinics as well as other nonprofit community-service organizations, I didn’t do it for the money, as I am sure the physician in question didn’t. Our hospital had a saying initiated by our previous C.E.O.: “Do what’s right.” Our Rotary Club has a test that asks the following of its initiatives: Is it fair to all concerned? Will it be beneficial to all concerned? Will it build good will and better friendships? Based on those guidelines, it would be best if the hospital donated the funds to the clinic. They could then use that money to help justify their tax-free status to the government. Plus, the physician wouldn’t pay taxes on the money he never received. It’s a win-win situation. You couldn’t fault either party. — Dennis