The Tribune

By IVOINE INGRAHAM

THERE is a hollow space in our public life where a simple “thank you” once lived. That space has not merely been neglected—it has been stripped, repurposed, and replaced by something colder, sharper, and far more corrosive: expectation.

In today’s climate, kindness is no longer received as a gift, it is processed as an obligation. Favours are no longer remembered, they are logged. Relationships are no longer nurtured, they are leveraged.

And gratitude—the quiet glue that once held communities together—has become an endangered virtue.

This is not a matter of etiquette. It’s not about politeness or social niceties. The erosion of gratitude signals something much deeper: a cultural shift toward entitlement so entrenched that it no longer recognises generosity as voluntary. When a helping hand is interpreted as a duty owed, we cross a dangerous threshold. We move from a society of mutual care into one of silent extraction, where every interaction is weighed for personal gain.

The pathology of ingratitude

At the heart of this shift lies a disturbing ethos: take care of me, and mine, and the rest can fend for themselves. It’s an ideology dressed up as pragmatism, often justified by scarcity, competition, or survival. But beneath those justifications lies something far less noble—rank selfishness elevated to a guiding principle. It’s the belief that one’s immediate circle is the only circle that matters, and that any benefit secured for that circle--no matter how obtained--is justified.

This mentality is not just corrosive. It’s fundamentally anti-social. It rejects the idea that a nation is a shared project. It denies the basic truth that no individual or family thrives in isolation. Roads, schools, institutions, opportunities—these are not conjured by individual ambition alone. They are built through collective investment, sustained by trust, and strengthened by reciprocity. When gratitude disappears, that entire system begins to fracture.

Ingratitude is often subtle. It doesn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it appears as silence—the absence of acknowledgement after a significant gesture. Other times, it manifests as amnesia, where past support is conveniently forgotten the moment a new opportunity arises. And increasingly, it shows up as escalation: the transformation of one favour into an expectation of many.

The cycle of extraction

Consider the now-familiar pattern. Someone receives a meaningful opportunity—a job recommendation, a contract, a connection that changes their trajectory. For a brief moment, there may be appreciation. But it’s fleeting. Almost immediately, the question becomes: what next? One opportunity is not enough. There must be another, and another still. The initial act of kindness is not seen as a generous intervention. It’s reframed as proof of access, a signal that more can, and should, be extracted.

This insatiability reveals a deeper problem. It’s not simply that people want more—that’s human. It’s that they feel entitled to more from the same source, without regard for limits, fairness, or the existence of others who have received nothing at all. It’s the logic of accumulation without accountability, driven by a belief that proximity to power or opportunity justifies continuous reward.

And when the inevitable “no” comes—when boundaries are asserted, when resources are finite, when fairness demands restraint—the response is often not understanding, but hostility. The same individuals who benefited from generosity may turn against the very people who supported them, casting them as inadequate, ungrateful, or even adversarial.

The narrative shifts rapidly: yesterday’s benefactor becomes today’s obstacle.

This is where the death of gratitude becomes most visible. And most dangerous. Because at this point, kindness is not just unappreciated, it’s weaponised. It becomes leverage in a transactional relationship where loyalty is conditional, and support is contingent on continued benefit. “Do more for me, or I will withdraw my support.”

This is not reciprocity. It’s coercion.

The "saints" of our own making: the problem with public recognition

This culture of ingratitude and entitlement manifests most visibly in our national honours and accolades. We see a concerning pattern of behaviour that appears entirely counterproductive to the spirit of nation-building. Every year, we watch as various accolades are handed out for contributions in finance, politics, civic duty, music, and religion. Yet, a strange phenomenon persists: the same people keep getting the honours.Some individuals possess three, four, or five national awards, while the "ordinary" person remains invisible.

How is it that those who are not connected, not affluent, and not part of the "signature dress" inner circle are consistently overlooked?

There are hundreds, if not thousands, of unsung heroes who have never been mentioned. These are the people who keep the engines of our society running—the community organisers who feed the hungry without a camera crew, the teachers who spend their own meagre salaries on students' supplies, the church elders who provide counselling in the dead of night. Their contributions are equal to those in high finance or politics.

Nothing is inherently wrong with recognising those who have achieved great heights, but a healthy society must level the playing field. When we only honour the elite, we send the message that only contributions tied to power and prestige matter. This is a profound form of institutional ingratitude toward the working class that sustains the nation.

The consequences of disrespect

When we fail to show gratitude, we do more than just forget a "thank you." We actively disrespect the humanity of the giver. To receive a gift and treat it as a right is to reduce the giver to a mere tool—a utility to be used and discarded.

This disrespect breeds a profound sense of being misunderstood. The benefactor, who acted out of a genuine desire to help or build, finds themselves recast as a "resource" rather than a person. This leads to the Hollow State—a condition where public service and private charity become distorted. When leaders or institutions attempt to act in the broader interest, they are pressured by competing demands from individuals who see themselves as entitled stakeholders, regardless of the wider consequences.

The loudest voices, not the most deserving, begin to dominate.

Meanwhile, those who have received nothing remain invisible. They are not part of the transactional exchange, and therefore, they are not part of the conversation. Their needs are overshadowed by the relentless demands of those who have already benefited. The result is a grotesque imbalance in which resources are not distributed on the basis of equity or need, but on proximity, persistence, and pressure.

The distinction of the nation builder

We must be clear: those who operate solely out of self-interest are not nation builders. They may accumulate wealth, secure opportunities, and advance their families, but they do not build.

Building requires vision beyond the self. It requires an understanding that true progress is measured not by how much one takes, but by how much one contributes to a system that uplifts all. Nation builders recognise that every act of kindness is a seed, not a transaction. They understand that gratitude is not merely expressed in words, but demonstrated through conduct—through loyalty, through restraint, through a willingness to extend the same generosity to others.

A call for a cultural reset

The stakes could not be higher. A society that loses its capacity for gratitude loses its capacity for cohesion. Without appreciation, generosity withers. Without generosity, trust collapses. And without trust, the very idea of a shared future becomes untenable.

We stand at a crossroads. One path leads deeper into transactional relationships, where every act is calculated, every favour is leveraged, and every connection is conditional. It’s a path of fragmentation, where individuals and families compete for advantage in a zero-sum game, and where the concept of the common good is reduced to rhetoric. The other path is more demanding, but far more rewarding. It is the path of gratitude, fairness, and shared responsibility. To choose this path, we must commit to four essential pillars:

Structural Fairness: Opportunities and honours should not be distributed through informal networks of favour, but through transparent systems that prioritise merit and need. We must stop giving the fifth award to the same person and start looking for the "unsung hero" in the signature-less dress.

Responsible Leadership: Leaders must resist the temptation to appease the loudest, most entitled voices. They must guide development in line with the long-term national interest, not the short-term appeasement of the affluent.

Personal Accountability: We must each examine our own lives. Have we thanked those who paved the way for us? Or have we reframed their help as something we "deserved"?

Redefining Success: Success must be understood as contribution, not accumulation.

Reclaiming the "thank you" 

Ingratitude is a sin because it’s a lie—the lie that we are self-made, that we owe no one, and that the world is our oyster to shuck at will. It’s a theft of the spirit, stealing the joy from the giver and the dignity from the receiver. The time to act is now. We must reclaim gratitude as a living principle, not a forgotten ideal. We must rebuild systems that reward fairness over favouritism.

Facing reality, we must commit, individually and collectively, to the work of nation-building—not for personal gain, but for the enduring strength of the communities we share. Let us show our appreciation to "all and sundry," for in the heart of the smallest “thank you” lies the seed of a great nation.

How can we better identify the "unsung heroes" in our own communities who are currently being overlooked by traditional award systems?