Utang na loob is gratitude, not obligation

Growing up in a hardworking household, I’d often promise my parents a life of tranquility after retirement. Seeing them return from work every night reminded me of that promise—to spoil and grant them a picturesque life after all those years of working hard for me and my sister. In fact, I can still vividly recall making a promise to both myself and my parents that once I’d graduate and land a job, I’d splurge my first paycheck on treating them to one of those fancy restaurants. However, this kind of mindset was never ingrained in me nor my sister. In fact, they never once asked us to become their retirement plan or their caregivers. 

Utang na loob is a familiar Filipino value often associated with the phrase “debt of gratitude” and is commonly referred to as the obligation to appropriately repay someone who has done something significant in one’s life. The trait is often found within the political landscape and familial bonds, which was also what Filipino Olympic gymnast Carlos Yulo faced with his mother. Clinching two straight historic gold medals made headlines nationwide, but the mother-son dispute soon overshadowed Yulo’s success. Their conflict subtly brought attention to the various pressures Filipino children face when it comes to the utang na loob surrounding parental sacrifice. Although deeply engraved in our culture, utang na loob is an emotional debt that becomes harmful when it stops being about gratitude, but more as a tool for power. 

Now, it’s important to mention that utang na loob hinders meritocracy, especially in significant public offices. The exploitation of utang na loob leads to nepotism, where appointments in both government and corporate positions are made based on relatives and friends rather than qualifications. In fact, Section 13 Article 6 of the 1987 Constitution states that during the president's term, the spouse and relatives by blood or marriage up to the fourth civil degree shall not be appointed as members of constitutional commissions, secretaries, ombudsmen, and more. This accumulation of power within the concerned families is frequently sustained by a long culture of personal loyalty and reciprocal obligations, where political support is traded for favors and positions, which then hinders the essence of a democratic process that advocates for power from the people, for the people.

 However, many would argue that utang na loob promotes unity and encourages people to remember those who helped them and return the same kindness. Others may also see it as an “opportunity” to build interpersonal relationships by creating bonds of trust that may last a lifetime. Although it may persuade individuals to give back, this ultimately creates an unbreakable bond that focuses on pressuring receivers instead of amply inspiring them to give back. This then reinforces a cycle where giving back is not seen as a choice but more as one’s own duty and responsibility. It is a double-edged sword, and misusing it may demerit the value it wishes to foster. 

Additionally, utang na loob is a tool that eventually exposes the prevalent yet often avoided toxicity within Filipino family dynamics. The guilt-tripping by parents often finds its roots in utang na loob, like how a parent may vocally exclaim the various responsibilities they carry, such as, “I cook for you!” or “I work all day to put a roof over your head!” to leverage their children into doing something for them. These kinds of responses create a dynamic where children establish a fear of expressing their needs, as they think they have nothing to equalize that exchange between them and their parents. The phrase, “I gave birth to you,” is a common trump card used by Filipino moms to assert authority, essentially implying, “I’m the reason you exist; therefore, you have no right to oppose me.” While utang na loob is deeply embedded in our culture, especially within families, it can also be weaponized to justify toxic parenting.

There have also been arguments about the concept, with some proclaiming it to be a reflection of the importance of personal relationships, while others say it’s not inherently problematic when it’s not deemed to be. However, what we should focus on is not found in either of those, but rather which factors constitute the value as being negative. If utang na loob was supposedly a trait grounded in principles to that of showing our gratitude to those who helped us, then shouldn’t we delve into those same principles and not the other way around? The concept of utang na loob goes against itself once it’s approached with negative intentions. Ultimately, there’s a reason why it’s a core principle found in our culture—it was meant to be an avenue for us to return our thanks without anyone or anything telling us to do so.

Moreover, gratitude should not override one’s commitment to public duty. When Francisco “Isko” Moreno was called out by his opponent, outgoing Mayor Honey Lacuña, for lacking utang na loob—after running against her for the Manila mayoralty despite her father, Danny Lacuña, having served as his political mentor and benefactor—he simply replied that his “debt” to the Lacuñas won’t supersede his duty to serve the people of Manila. This conflict reinforces the hindrance of merit-based governance when there is an expectation of unwavering loyalty and return based on previous favors. Moreno’s decision to prioritize his commitment to running for office and implementing his goal for the city over personal debts reminds us that there should always be a clear boundary between our personal obligations and the public service everyone expects from us, if ever we find ourselves in that position. While acknowledging and reciprocating the support we’ve gotten previously from others is commendable, it should never impede our commitment to the broader community, as this ensures governance remains focused on fulfilling the people’s best interests. 

Also, utang na loob can be exploited as a manipulative tool. Although I’ve mentioned earlier how it can be used in familial settings, it can also be used on a larger scale. In December 2024, Senator Cynthia Villar controversially implied that her family’s land donations might be “reconsidered” if voters didn’t adhere to utang na loob and fail to reciprocate with electoral support for the 2025 midterm elections. These words of hers were labelled as “conditional philanthropy,” where although she was supposedly going to be “donating” land, there was a price to pay all along, and that price was tied to political favors. Although unfortunate coming from a senator whom the people initially entrusted with votes to, this incident highlights how utang na loob can be manipulated to create a sense of indebtedness among constituents, diminishing the purpose it initially tried to stand for. 

Furthermore, gratitude should be discretionary, not obligatory. While reciprocating acts of kindness can be seen as an act of benignity, there’s a clear distinction between doing so out of genuine intent and doing so merely out of obligation. The concept of utang na loob implies that almost every favor must be reciprocated, if possible, with either or greater generosity; however, in my view, there is absolutely no use in showing gratitude or reciprocation once it becomes a chore instead of a virtue. The way I see it, even if we “repay” a favor, giving back with no genuine intention misses the very essence of what it stands for in our culture. Itceases to be about heartfelt appreciation once it’s done as a liability rather than out of sincerity. 

Looking back, I was around nine years old making that promise with absolutely no understanding of the “real world,” and while until now I still don’t, those genuine promises were the result of me simply showing thanks for being so loved. We weren’t obligated, nor were we pressured to give back, but witnessing the selfless actions of my parents ultimately molded me into the kind of person I am today. While utang na loob is a core concept deeply ingrained in our identity as Filipinos, there should be a clear line that states when and where it goes against its very purpose. It’s important to remind ourselves that utang na loob was and will always be rooted in gratitude, and not as a weapon to assert authority. Gratitude is simply our gift to one another, not a debt to be collected.