How Do We Split 2 Taylor Swift Eras Tour Tickets Among 4 Friends?

Because of the challenges with Ticketmaster in the fall, three friends and I were able to buy only two tickets to the Taylor Swift Eras tour during the original sale, and resale tickets are now absurdly expensive.

Our dilemma is how to decide which two friends get to go to the concert. Although all four of us would love to go to the concert, one friend and I are arguably the biggest Swifties of the group. That said, I already attended an Eras Tour concert last month with my family. I would still love to go again, but maybe I should recuse myself, given that my three friends haven’t been.

It’s also worth noting that there was unequal effort put into procuring the tickets; for example, two of my friends didn’t submit to be entered for “Registered Fan” status, which could have improved our odds of getting tickets. Is there a fair way to divide the tickets? Or is the best option to choose a random-number generator? — Name Withheld

From the Ethicist:

How should scarce goods be allocated? Some people endorse the principle that, in a formula that emerged in the 19th century as a core communist ideal, we should give “to each according to their needs.” The need principle may lie behind the implication that the tickets should go to the two “biggest Swifties,” and also, perhaps, the implication that, having already attended a concert in this tour, you might have cause to recuse yourself.

Then there’s the idea, central to utilitarianism, that goods should go to those who will get the most out of them. This line of thought might explain why you’re uncertain about that act of self-recusal. A very different idea is that goods should go to those who put in the work of getting them. John Locke famously proposed, more than three centuries ago, that land belonged to those who had “mixed their labor” with it. (See also: the Little Red Hen and her bread.) That’s presumably why you mentioned the unequal effort your friends put in.

I’m skeptical, though, that these various approaches will yield an amicable resolution. Who has the greatest need? Who would get the most out of it? Who put in the most effort? You’re unlikely to agree on these things. Even if you could, you’d have to decide which principle you should follow, or — if you feel the pull of more than one — how you should balance the principles. And, by the way, would such principles let you limit the possible recipients to the four of you? There will always be people out there with greater needs, people who would get more out of the concert, people who labored harder if less successfully at ticket procurement. Given these perplexities, I’m drawn to your final suggestion. But you don’t need a random-number generator. A round of rock-paper-scissors should suffice.

Readers Respond

Last week’s question was from a reader whose two best friends were taking Ozempic to lose weight. They disapproved of their decision, and wrote: “I’m conflicted about the safety and popularity of these drugs for weight loss, and so I’ve remained silent whenever this topic comes up. Our annual trip is coming up, and I fear I’ll be forced to offer my opinion about their weight loss, especially since the trip involves time at the pool. Should I compliment them to keep the peace? Or is there a tactful way to make my differing opinion about these drugs known?”

In his response, the Ethicist noted: “It’s not the job of friends to play doctor. People who have been prescribed semaglutide will have received medical advice about possible side effects. More than a few will have experienced them. You imply there’s a moral problem about taking the drug, but you don’t say what it is. … Not knowing what your specific concerns are, I can’t tell you how to broach them. But if what’s really bothering you is the thought that your friends are taking the easy way out, well, I doubt that’s a cogent position. In any case, the evidence is clear: Moralizing weight issues doesn’t help solve them.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)

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There is no better way to ruin a friendship than to discuss a friend’s weight. As the letter writer did not reveal her moral objections to the drug, it’s even more incumbent on her to avoid any discussion of it. Until she is able to voice her concerns coherently and in a kind and respectful manner, she needs to stay silent. — Wendy

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I agree with the Ethicist when he says, “Moralizing weight issues doesn’t help solve them.” But he doesn’t explicitly tell the letter writer what they need to hear: Don’t comment on somebody else’s weight. Period. Their weight is not your business. There should be no moral superiority attached to this topic. — Lisa

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The Ethicist missed the mark here. The letter writer clearly has a moral objection to their friends’ full-throated endorsement of, and participation in, a diet culture that has damaging repercussions far beyond those a given individual taking Ozempic may experience. When thinness becomes “easy,” it also becomes compulsory in the eyes of many, leading to the further marginalization of those in larger bodies. — Emily

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Our friends don’t need us to judge them. Instead, they need us to listen and support them. If the letter writer’s friends are taking Ozempic to drop 20 pounds, it is not her place to judge. The friends could want to look and feel better, which is their prerogative. Here, negativity can be misconstrued as jealousy, so perhaps the letter writer should explore those feelings. — Kathleen

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In our family, we have a saying, derived from a long family history of eating disorders and discomfort with body image: “No body talk.” We tell interlocutors that we are uncomfortable talking about people’s weight and appearance. Period. Rather than criticizing her friends’ choices, your reader can simply say, “No body talk,” and leave it there. — Katherine