Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I plead guilty on all accounts. During the four-hour February break mecca from metropolitan New York to quaint countryside Ithaca, one yammering asshole did not make it home. He was dumped, ever so spontaneously, at a Nyack McDonald’s — in broad rush-hour daylight mind you — post cursing me out. Call it petty, call it extreme. As arbiter of my vehicle, I call it karmic retribution.
For context, said yammering asshole was my boyfriend’s long-time right hand man, so when he wanted to tag along for ‘meet the parents’ weekend, I spared him a seat. He’s a notorious campus character with questionable ethics but it wasn’t till he called me “sick c*nt” that the great ditching — and bromance dissolution — transpired. Moral conflict in close relationships is so often background noise until it manifests in personal attacks and consequences. Then, and only then, does it usually trigger divorce.
Excuse the morality police — we aren’t moral hypocrites, but self-motivated moral regulators that balance risk, convenience and connection satisfaction. Ethical hiccups are tolerated until costs outweigh benefits. Hence the question of how much values influence our inner circle is answered by social survival instincts and basic human psychology. Consequently, most moral disputes are swept under the rug if they don’t pose a direct threat.
The trade off between tolerance and compromising integrity wouldn’t be possible without loyalty. Loyalty is a key component of intuition, described by Moral Foundation Theory as an instinctive force that may dominate fairness, harm or honesty. Via this lens, we don’t ignore principles for friendships but outweigh them with loyalty. It becomes a staple of identity as betrayal is associated with abandoning both the connection in question and a past version of the self.
The spectrum of loyalty is further complicated by its development, an evolving paradox between love and debt. An intertwined history breeds trust and adoration to the extent that close figures are integrated into our self-concepts. Newly problematic childhood friends or corrupted long-term partners can’t justifiably be lost when defended by years of compassion and positive memories. The less genuine but nonetheless common end of the spectrum is about obligation, a form of relational accounting consisting only of reciprocating when someone was ‘there for you.’ The emotional engine behind indebted loyalty isn’t intimacy or fondness but rather guilt. In both healthy and unhealthy relationships, the spectrum is a silent presence; we’re usually burdened by both contrasting ends.
On the subject of relational accounting, another reason to dodge moral arguments with the chronically cheating friend or politically insufferable relative is their resources. Yes, it's vain and materialistic but to nobody’s shock, many relationships survive on convenience. People persist as long as the benefits outweigh the costs. This introduces an exchange paradigm, the pivotal backbone of Social Exchange Theory, in which daily utility lowers moral expectations. Free car rides, meal swipes, gym access, substances, dinners out — all of this capital can hardly be compromised on account of impersonal moral differences, no?
This materialist calamity is exacerbated by the irreplaceable resource of being embedded in a social network. Even if scarce, alternatives usually exist to textbook benefits. Just buy the Netflix membership yourself, take the bus, grab dinner with friends instead and split the check. But relationships aren’t usually independent structures — they belong to a web of other ties so one severance has an adjacent network of consequences. Cutting off one person may risk others, not to mention the onslaught of instigation accusations, awkwardness and heaven forbid, complete isolation. Choosing to stay with the controlling girlfriend or misogynistic roommate may not be about the one, but preserving an entire social infrastructure.
Forfeiting companionship threatens resource destruction, but what about actually enjoying company? Forget about staying loyal, ensuring everyday conveniences or social connectivity — someone charismatic and entertaining offers an upfront benefit: time well spent. Certain folks may be terrible on paper but great in the instant, and since most of us live in the moment, moral resumés are easily neglected.
Competent social performers also attract others, are easily integrated into other different social climates and build lore with little effort. In college especially, a transient friend who knows where the action is at may prove invaluable to someone looking for new experiences, even if they harbor sinister intent. High performers lacking moral integrity so often practice a hot-cold empathy gap: turning on the charm for relations and acting viciously towards less favorable company allows them to capitalize on good behavior. Five star treatment and a memorable play date becomes worth tolerating a little apathy for others.
Self-motivated moral regulation sets a precedent for ethics taking a back seat in relationships, so despite how aligned some of us are with a personal compass, social psychology causes values to fall in the rankings. With the exception of a few morally convicted socializers, most of us still have to keep an eye out for the pitfalls of this natural inclination towards risk mitigation. Abandoning morality becomes costly with reputational spillover and contagion because let’s face it, if someone is that bad, they drag down the rest by association. No one likes to be patronized with ‘you are the company you keep.’ And when institutional consequences arise — counselor interference, disappointed bosses, a hit to your professional or academic image — losses can be irretrievable.
But despite extreme cases, deprioritizing moral preferences to promote connections is not just the norm, it's our natural inclination. We pledge allegiance to visiting the bigoted aunt who always baked us cookies growing up. We go clubbing with the gym bro co-worker who treats women like sh*t just because he offers free training. We bail out the social shmoozer who gets our humor and listens tirelessly, even after a DUI and reckless endangerment charges. It isn’t immoral, it's paying kindness forward, improving other aspects of life or making more happy memories. We calculate the sacrifices, the benefits and blunders, until the unsavory character kept around crosses a boundary and gets dumped on the side of the road. The background noise was a premonition all along — and the friend you made excuses for becomes inexcusable.
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Kira Walter '26 is an opinion columnist and former lifestyle editor. Her column Onion Theory addresses unsustainable aspects of modern systems from a Western Buddhist perspective, with an emphasis on neurodivergent narratives and spiritual reckonings. She can be reached at kwalter@cornellsun.com.
