The New York Times Magazine - USA (2020-08-09)

(Antfer) #1
Kwame Anthony Appiah teaches philosophy
at N.Y.U. His books include ‘‘Cosmopolitanism,’’
‘‘The Honor Code’’ and ‘‘The Lies That Bind:
Rethinking Identity.’’

Losing your
job — a
condition that
the pandemic
has now
visited upon
tens of
millions of
Americans —
imposes harms
beyond the
fi nancial ones.

misleading anyone. ‘‘I’m praying for you’’
could, against a certain cultural back-
ground, be formulaic in just this way.
But what if ‘‘I’m praying for you’’
brings someone consolation not just by
expressing compassion and concern but
by suggesting, falsely, that you are actu-
ally praying? Perhaps religious people
would be especially prone to mistake
your parrotings for promises. What’s
at stake, in these circumstances, isn’t
appropriation but deception. Nor is this
a white lie, a trivial fi b meant to spare
someone’s feelings. The act depends
upon deceiving listeners about some-
thing that is — from their point of view,
if not yours — genuinely important. Like
many attempts at kindness, it would be,
at the very least, condescending.

at a time when an unprecedented number
of people are doing the same? Sure, I
would be legally entitled to do so. But I
fear that I would be taking money that
I don’t really need — and that someone
else desperately does — out of a system
that seems likely to be spread even thinner
the longer the downturn goes on.
If someone can aff ord not to take
unemployment benefi ts, are they
ethically obligated not to? During these
scary economic times, do we have
an obligation to ‘‘fl atten the curve’’ at the
unemployment offi ce as well as the hospital?


Name Withheld, California


I just mentioned the concern many peo-
ple have to be a giver, not a taker, and that’s
clearly one that you share. Unemployment
payments are a legal right for those who
qualify, which doesn’t mean you have to
exercise the right. But it isn’t incidental
that, like Social Security, the program of
unemployment insurance to which you
would be applying is not means-tested.
There may be political advantages to that
design: In a society like ours, benefi ts that
aren’t means-tested tend to garner more
support and carry less stigma. In our pres-
ent economic circumstances, too, we don’t
want people to cut back on spending, and
your unemployment pay will reduce the
temptation to do so.
Of course, your particular decision will
not make much diff erence to the world:
Not taking these benefi ts will save the
government an amount that’s well with-
in the rounding error of the budget,
and spending it won’t increase demand
detectably. (At least not in the aggregate: I
suppose it might make a detectable diff er-
ence for a small neighborhood store you
patronize regularly.) But there’s nothing
wrong about taking part in a basically just
system in ways permitted by its rules.


I am Jewish by birth, upbringing and
culture but consider myself an agnostic.
Questions about the existence of God
have no interest for me, and my religious
observance is more family- than God-
oriented. In this period of intense suff ering
and loss, though, I’ve strugg led with how
to honestly express feelings of hope and
sorrow. ‘‘You’re in my heart’’ or ‘‘I hope
your loved one gets better’’ just doesn’t
seem to carry the same weight as ‘‘I’m
praying for you’’ — and recently, I’ve


found myself saying that to people I know
who are deeply religious, even though
I don’t literally pray. I don’t want to be
facile or deceptive, but it is what people
say in our country. If the other person
has already spoken about God’s will,
is responding in their lingua franca a sign
of empathy or a kind of appropriation?

Jezra Kaye, New York

Not every use of religious language sig-
nals religious commitment. An atheist can
say ‘‘Bless you’’ when someone sneezes;
it’s just a conventional formula. The same
is true of ‘‘goodbye,’’ said at parting, even
though it’s an abbreviation of ‘‘God be with
you.’’ When people leave my presence in
Asante, the region of Ghana where I grew
up, I often say ‘‘Wo ne Nyame nko,’’ which
literally means ‘‘Go with God.’’ (It’s more
traditional than the alternative, which is
an Asantifi ed version of ‘‘bye-bye,’’ name-
ly ‘‘Baabae-o.’’) I’m pretty sure I’m not
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