Uncommon Courtesy

Common courtesy is rare in this generation. We are pressured by society, and our instincts, to one-up other people and avoid becoming a victim ourselves. We look at the long line, or heap, of people at the MRT or LRT, and we think, no use getting civil here. We push, we shove; never mind our dear elderly or the office lady, never mind the mother carrying her child; we are so used to hearing people taunt, “mag-taxi ka kasi.” We smile to ourselves: at least, we managed to get in.

Then we read a controversial news article online, and we can’t wait to scroll down the webpage for the meaningful, or more interesting, comments section. We like to see people bash one another for their idiotic arguments. We see instances of bullying, swearing, and even intimidation. We laugh at the misspelled word, we lash out at sexist comments then we follow it with LOL. We hide behind our laptops, smiling because how will they ever know the real name of smokyprogg or mudmonkey88?

We are disgusted with how Robert Blair Carabuena bullied an MMDA traffic enforcer, so we call him Purple Pig and Wild Barney. Our righteous retribution of name-calling extends to our government authorities (remember the Thief Justice) and even to our university professors. They deserve it, we say.

Why the outrage against injustices caused by the powerful and the greedy, and yet the sheepish smile when our car takes up two parking spots? Why the delight when a high-and-mighty passenger is forced to move close to the jeepney driver because we pretend we didn’t notice his “bayad?” We try to look at big acts of corruption, dishonesty, and indecency, but we fail to push back the chair at a restaurant after we eat.

“What’s wrong with that?” we say. We paid for their service. So we are trapped by our own sense of entitlement, and we think that we have done greatly in the service of humanity that we deserve a little bit of selfishness and pampering. Somebody’s got to be the servant, and we’d rather be not the servant. We are against the caste system of certain societies but we are oblivious to the hierarchical order existing in our own; that is why we call someone inside the classroom: ma’am or sir; and those who hold the broom: a habitual ate, kuya, or excuse me.

We are accustomed to the man-made belief that some people are simply of less value than others. Our time is more important than theirs, so we abruptly cut lanes at the expense of other motorists. We don’t open our bags for inspection beforehand; do we look like we’re terrorists? Then we delay ourselves, so that others will turn on the security guard. We feel justified; besides, security guards are just for display.

It is the process of natural selection, of survival of the fittest, of strong devouring the weak. But we are made to be more than just a result of our instinct and guts. The moment man started to behave like an animal, killing a brother because of envy, it has already been asked, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” The answer is: yes, we are our brother’s keeper.        

Let us look out for the welfare of each other. Let us fill our conversations with please and thank you. Never fail to greet our professors in the hallway. Say sorry and really mean it. Refill the water pitcher at home when it’s about to go empty. Put our cellphone to silent mode during lectures. It is never outdated to hold the door open for somebody else. And oh, lest we forget: do not sleep during seminars. These little acts of courtesy and kindness may not give us fame and glory, but they certainly make life purposeful and worthwhile.

Why do we bother doing these when they won’t even show up in our resume? A pebble thrown in a pond quickly sinks, but it creates ripples. What we do for others may be quickly forgotten, but we are creating ripples of change in our generation.

And while we’re at it, let us challenge ourselves to step a little higher, and make common courtesy “uncommon” in a good sense. It has been said, Love your enemies. Courtesy is many times not mutual between two parties, and our response must never be dictated by what the other person put on the table. Our courtesy is not based on how others treat us; it is defined by the kind of life we choose to live.