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| Art Card by the Author |
When does gratitude become a burden?
In some way or another, the debt of gratitude has always been ingrained in us. Ancient civilizations worshipped gods in thanks for their blessings. Subjects praised monarchs for their benevolence. Arrangements in societies have been made that changed the lines of our history, all for debts of gratitude. It’s not an unknown, unspoken side of humanity; we tend to be very appreciative of those who help us, and thus, the debt of gratitude has left us with a society that aims to reciprocate whatever kindness it gets.
In more recent times, though, most individualistic societies have shifted away from the idea of “owing someone” and then having this debt of gratitude left over, even if it’s in a good-hearted nature because the pride of having done and having gotten things on their own has prevailed better. But we, as Filipinos, as a collective society, take pride in this mindset of repaying kindness and generosity. Though only coming to scrutiny in recent years, articles and studies have been examining this aspect of our culture. Anna Tuazon's column from the Inquirer talked about how the debt of gratitude has become a longstanding value in our society and how it’s also become a double-edged sword for acts of kindness.
We pride ourselves on being very particular to this debt of gratitude. We’ve branded it as something very particular to us to the point that it’s become a cultural facet to us. It’s so vital in our society, this utang ng loob, that the debt of gratitude has evolved into something that binds people together to near eternity.
It used to be a sign of respect as much as a sign of our gratitude. This person has done something for us, has given something to us — it’s only right that we return their kindness. Especially as the dynamic usually portrays an elder, or someone in some position of power, of capability, being on the giving end, the gratitude that comes from their attention to our needs or our plights used to be our way of showing them our appreciation for their generosity. They’ve taken the time to care for us, so we should make sure that their time was worth it and have something to show for it.
That’s not inherently bad; again, showing such appreciation for kindness is one way to make the world a better place. But the more we progressed into modern society, the more that this debt of gratitude has gained interest. It’s no longer as simple as repaying kindness. What was once a receipt of gratitude and humility has now become a responsibility and a demand to uphold. Parents demand luxuries from their kids as utang ng loob for all that they’ve given. Superiors demand heavier favors from those that they aid, for all the graces they’ve spared.
And it never ends — for everything that one pays back, there will always be more demands laid out, as we’ve made it so that the debt of gratitude never dies. Even if decades were to pass, they would always remember and bring their acts of goodness back up again, and again, we would have to pay it back. The utang ng loob has cultivated a place of entitlement that people now assume they’re owed something back for what they put out to the world.
The debt of gratitude is no longer an innate instinct; it’s become a promise of a demand that we dread to come because we know, at some point, this kindness will be accounted for again. And now, instead of it acting as a wheel that operates the world in good nature, it’s become a harbinger of nothing but debt, doubt, and pressure. There is no longer any joy in receiving help, and we no longer accept help immediately because we now know that we’ll be carrying something heavier in return.
Why is there a sudden price tag for our kindness? Why are we playing tax collectors to those who we “willingly” give to?
We’ve commodified our generosity and our kindness, and it’s all become transactional and almost void of being genuine. It’s understandable to maybe expect some show of appreciation for all the good that we do, especially in our times where living has also become more taxing but why have we allowed it to turn our care and our concern into currency, to be traded when we might want something back? Shouldn’t our kindness remain as the nature of human living?
All of this is to say, what else can be done? To rectify this gross misrepresentation, this wrongful actualization of what was once a lifting aspect of our culture — what must be done? How can we rearrange the emphasis on giving, rather than receiving in turn? Can we still?
