I Inherited a Nazi Helmet From My Husband. What Should I Do With It?

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I own a Nazi helmet my husband, now deceased, inherited from his father. For a long time it didn’t bother me; it only left me wondering about the soldier who wore it. But with the resurgence in white supremacy, neo-fascism and antisemitism, I am now very uncomfortable with it. I can’t seem to figure out what to do with it. I don’t think a museum would be interested in it. I certainly would never sell it, being uneasy about who might buy it. Donating it to a theater costume shop is a possibility. Or should I save it as a piece of history for my great-grandchildren to learn from? — Name Withheld

From the Ethicist:

From what I understand, people who collect World War II helmets are typically military-history buffs who don’t identify with the politics of the regimes their wearers fought for. Online auctions offer plenty of Soviet helmets from that war, and I suspect few of their buyers are carrying a torch for Stalin. Besides, the standard German combat helmet of that period was minimally decorated, and probably less than ideal for those looking to dress up as Nazis. Nor will those who do collect Nazi memorabilia because they find Nazism appealing be affected by whether one more Stahlhelm is on the market.

The fact that an object can play a role in someone’s creepy imaginative life doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t own it. Almost anything can play a role in a creepy imaginative life. What’s wrong with people who collect Nazi memorabilia out of a rooting interest isn’t their objects; it’s their morally repugnant attitudes. Keep it, donate it, sell it — just don’t endow the helmet with talismanic powers.

My local grocery store has six marked handicap spots. It also has two spots designated for expectant mothers and two for parents with toddlers, which function on an honor system. They are at the front of the parking lot and are the closest to the store aside from the handicap spots.

People for whom the spots are clearly not intended frequently park in them. My question concerns people with a handicap tag who park in either of the other reserved spots. Are they entitled to park there? I feel uncomfortable telling them that they were in a spot reserved for someone else, but I wonder if I am correct in feeling this way. — Name Withheld

From the Ethicist:

The courtesy spaces you describe are far from universal in this country — unlike accessible parking for people with disabilities, which is legally required — and so some people may just not pick up the distinction. When handicapped parking is available for use, you should feel free to encourage someone with qualifying plates or placards to take advantage of it. You can also direct shoppers who are pregnant or have toddlers to use the spaces meant for them. Assume that the mistakes were made in good faith, and most people, I think, will respond in kind.

The previous question was from a reader who found himself struggling to speak up after someone made a homophobic statement in his presence. He wrote: “I was in a barbershop in a town west of the Mississippi and east of the Rockies. I didn’t hear what had been said before or what came after, but I suddenly heard another customer (quite calmly) say, ‘I just wish all homosexuals would be obliterated.’ I’m gay and have had nightmares about being in a concentration camp because of my sexuality. Hearing those words said out loud froze my blood. I didn’t make a scene, just sat and pondered it all for a minute, then got up and walked out. I didn’t want to knowingly breathe the same air as someone speaking the language of Nazis. Should I have spoken out?”

In his response, the Ethicist noted: “I don’t think one is obliged to confront everyone who says reprehensible things. I do think it would be better if more of us did so. So you didn’t have a duty to call out the guy. But if you judged it was safe to do so, you might, as you were leaving, have simply pointed out that there are gay people — and people who care about someone who’s gay — everywhere you go, and that it was a bad idea to assume he wouldn’t be overheard by one of them. Even if he wanted to be overheard, there are tactical advantages to invoking social norms as a proxy for moral condemnation. Of course, it would have been good if a straight person had spoken up, too. Enforcing norms of basic decency helps challenge the atmosphere of homophobia; in this case, it might have undermined the speaker’s confidence that he had conversational permission to wish for the obliteration of millions of human beings.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)

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I agree with the Ethicist’s response in a broad sense — we aren’t obligated to confront people for the offensive things they say, although the world would be better if we did. However, I feel he skated over a significant detail here, that the letter writer himself is gay and it may have been difficult or dangerous to speak out. As a queer person myself, I understand the day-to-day worries of “Will this person accept me? Will they view me as a threat?” And even in situations where one’s physical and mental health are not at risk, it can be exhausting and frustrating to constantly confront people on beliefs such as these, especially when they question your identity and right to exist. Sometimes not speaking out can be an act of self-preservation. — Carolina

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I think the gay man in the barbershop made the wise choice by simply walking out. There is a good chance he would have subjected himself to violence if he’d confronted the bigot and identified as one of the people he wants to “obliterate.” But I believe it is absolutely incumbent upon those of us privileged enough to walk through the world relatively safely to speak up for those who may not feel so empowered. Men need to speak up against misogyny; white people need to speak out against racism; straight people must not tolerate any form of homophobia. People of privilege should consider it their job to speak up. Their silence gives permission for the haters to hate. — Lisa

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In the words of Elie Wiesel: “We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” A perhaps more familiar version is the quote misattributed to Edmund Burke, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Ethically, when you start to make distinctions about just how bad bad is (and thus whether you need to speak out), you find yourself on a dangerous slippery slope to saying nothing. The Ethicist’s thought to appeal to social norms is a useful approach, but you always have to make the approach. — Laurence

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As an old white woman I feel a special responsibility to speak out when people make racist, homophobic, Islamophobic, antisemitic, misogynistic and other hateful comments. Most people would not physically attack their grandmothers (with an emphasis on most people), but as a former nonviolent peacekeeper I still do a brief safety assessment before responding. Silence is not golden in such situations, and it is particularly incumbent on me to speak out. When I think about the future, I wonder how people believe they will manage the major problems looming in their futures if they are filled with hate rather than prepared to work cooperatively to survive. — Laurie

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More than 30 years ago, my husband and I stayed overnight at a bed-and-breakfast. The next morning, one of the other guests made some hateful comments about Black people. I did nothing. My nonresponse haunts me all these years later. I have no idea how speaking up would have affected everyone else in the room, but I wish I would have expressed my feelings. — Jean

Kwame Anthony Appiah is The New York Times Magazine’s Ethicist columnist and teaches philosophy at N.Y.U. His books include “Cosmopolitanism,” “The Honor Code” and “The Lies That Bind: Rethinking Identity.” To submit a query: Send an email to [email protected]. More about Kwame Anthony Appiah

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