Someday I should have an ethics quiz asking which advice columnist is more unethical, Chuck Klosterman, “The Ethicist,” or Emily Yoffe, Slate’s “Dear Prudence.” That horrible exercise is for another day, however. Right now, I am only considering Emily’s latest botch, in which she urged a mother with a guilty conscience to take her terrible secret to her grave.
The secret in question is that the woman asking Emily’s counsel conspired to get pregnant via her gullible, not-ready-to commit boyfriend, who thought she was using birth control. Now it’s 13 years later. She and the double-crossed father are happily married to other people, in different states, though he “is involved” in his daughter’s life, whom he accepted as his own. Mom never told him what she had done, and he believes that his daughter was an accident, leading him to stay with the family for the child’s first three years. “Prudence’s” questioner concludes,
“…I had decided that I would go to my grave never telling anyone what I had done. Recently, a friend became pregnant after a one-night stand. Everyone assumes that was an accident, but she confided in me that she had been seeking out sex with the purpose of getting pregnant. I was so relieved to meet someone else who planned an “accidental” pregnancy that it made me wonder if I should open up about my secret. But I’m afraid if I told Ben it might change the way he interacted with Holly. My questions are: Am I some kind of monster for getting pregnant on the sly? And should I come clean, and if so, who should know?”
What? The reply to this should take about 20 seconds of thought to answer:
- You’re relieved that one of your friends is a lying, betraying fraud? Don’t turn your back on her; I’m warning you.
- Of course you should tell “Ben,” since he’s the one whose life was turned upside down by your selfish perfidy and deception.
- “It might change the way he interacted with Holly,” eh? You mean “he might not send quite so much money to you to take care of Holly,” don’t you? Too bad. This is your doing, your lie, and your fault. “I don’t like the potential consequences of telling the truth” is not a justification to keep lying.
- Yes, indeed you are some kind of monster. What you did was despicable, cowardly, cruel and wrong. Ben might be a prince about it (“Ah, that’s all water under the bridge now! The important thing is that we have our beautiful little girl, and nothing else matters!”), or he might call his lawyer. That’s his choice, and he has an absolute right to have the facts to make it his choice.
Emily, however, reasons otherwise. Don’t tell him, she counsels…
- “Your act doesn’t make you a monster…” Yes, it really does. Didn’t we establish this in “An Officer and a Gentleman”?
- “…nor do I think there’s any benefit to enlightening everyone now.” That’s Ben’s call. The Golden Rule says that he’d want to know that he was tricked, and has been living a lie for over a decade. I sure would. I like to know just how trustworthy the people I associate with really are.
- “Both you and Ben rose to the occasion and neither of you would express regret that you’re parents to Holly.” Consequentialism! So what? What if she were a rebellious, hateful, crack-addicted thief? The fact that thing turned out all right doesn’t justify the lie or keeping it hidden now.
- “…At this late date, however, your coming clean would only cast a shadow over your character.” A character that richly deserves such a shadow.
- “You are deeply remorseful for what sounds like a singular act of substantial deceit.” What difference does it make that it’s a single act? A single act is enough. And this wasn’t “deceit.” This was a lie.
- “There’s nothing to be gained by telling your husband and making him uneasy about your essential honesty.” I’d say one’s husband has the right to know the character of who he’s married to.
- “You and your friend are also hardly the only women to deliberately get pregnant without letting the man in on your plan, as objectionable as that behavior is.” Oh, that’s terrific, Emily. The old “you’re not the first” rationalization, a particularly dumb variation on “everybody does it.” The conduct is horribly wrong, and the first person to do it is no worse than the 2,342nd.
Gee, I wonder what Chuck would say.
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Facts: Slate