How Do I Tell My Rich Friends to Stop Talking About Fleeing the Country?

New York Times

3 days ago

I have a wealthy friend (not billions, but well over $20 million) who talks almost incessantly about leaving the country because of her and her family's concerns about the current political situation. Nearly every week, it's another 'Check this one out!' — always accompanied by a link to a villa in the south of France or a seaside four-bedroom condo overlooking the coast of Spain. I'm not the sort to let money drive a relationship; I don't defer to wealthy people, and I wouldn't expect deference if the roles were reversed.
So how do you navigate things when you're simply tired of hearing the same conversation on wash, rinse, repeat? I can't just say: 'Stop. Your friends with less money don't want to hear it.' That would only create anger. But 'Have you thought about how these comments affect others?' feels condescending. I'm not sure it's appropriate to tell her to stop, or how to do it. — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
One way of being obnoxious is by condescending to people, treating them in a way that implies they're lesser. Another, opposite way is by failing to notice that other people lack the advantages you enjoy. If the first obliquely asserts superiority, the second obliviously betrays self-absorption. Both of them grate.
I can imagine other misgivings you might have about these upscale escape fantasies. When the political weather in your country turns threatening, there's much to be said for staying put, if you safely can, and trying to make things better. Given her resources, your friend might wrest herself from the Sotheby's International Realty website and spend more time reviewing political campaigns that could benefit from her backing. It doesn't sound as if she's facing persecution; if anything, she's on the verge of a tax break. So her weekly search for a bolt-hole on the Riviera just seems an attempt to dodge an unpleasant atmosphere. In our 24/7 digital era, though, is there truly more solace in brooding over news alerts from a villa in Cap Ferrat than from a ranch in Montana?
You don't have to make it a confrontation. There are plenty of ways to signal the realities she's exasperatingly deaf to. The next time she sends you a link to a coastal villa, you might respond with a listing for a studio apartment in a Communist-era block in Bucharest — ample stair climbing, intermittent hot water and panoramic views of concrete — explaining that it better fits your budget. If she's miffed for a minute, that's the price of honesty. And a small one, surely, compared to that spread in Cap Ferrat.
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