It’s a crisp December morning. You open the front door to discover a brightly colored bag placed on the porch. Inside are some comestibles and a bottle of wine. The note identifies the givers as a couple you’ve socialized with but don’t know well. More to the point, you’ve never exchanged gifts with them before. Now, you confront the question: What is to be done?
If you have a spouse or partner, you consult with them. Together, you ponder how much you know about these folks—and whether you want to cultivate this relationship. Getting down to specifics, you ask: What is in the bag? Is it something of a personal nature, clearly distinguishing us from other people? Or is it more generic, perhaps one of many identical bags that were placed on people’s doorsteps? If the items are homemade, perhaps baked goods or some handicraft, how much effort went into their making? If they are store-bought, how much money was involved?
These considerations seem crass, but they are elements in a decision to respond. If one does respond, how should that offering be made? Remember, too, that time is of the essence. The holidays are upon us.
Most of us would consider an example like this to be simply a matter of social etiquette, a minor difficulty that can be addressed with a few deft moves. But it is more than that. The issue at hand—how to properly exchange gifts—is a significant aspect of interpersonal relationships. This quandary is not specific to our modern, commercialized world. Quite the opposite: gift exchanges are a foundation of traditional societies.
That was the thesis of one of the classic books in the human sciences, The Gift, by Marcel Mauss. An anthropologist who drew on his knowledge of indigenous peoples from America’s northwest coast and the Western Pacific, Mauss described how ritualized gift-giving is a way for people to make clear their status, both within and across groups. Pointedly, gift exchanges are not just individual matters; they symbolize the standing of communities. At least, that’s the case for important public feasts and for presentations of sacred objects that carry the “spirit” of those who have possessed them.
Mauss’s theme is that gift exchange is more than a frivolous occasion bound narrowly by time and place. It is involved in a broader set of obligations.
In that light, Mauss focused on three different obligations: to give, to receive, and to reciprocate. I’ll put these concerns into the much broader question that is central to all inquiry in the human sciences: What kinds of people get to do what kinds of things to (and with) what kinds of people in what situations and in what ways?
So, our gift bag on the porch exists in this larger context. The same can be said for exchanges of holiday greeting cards, the hosting of seasonal dinners and parties, phone calls on the “big day,” and important gifts offered to loved ones. Who gives what to whom? How is this offering received? And what does this mean for our ongoing relationship?
Who gives what to whom
I recall one of my former students, who had a set of physical disabilities, telling me she had asked her father what he wanted for Christmas. His answer was that the only thing he wanted was “your love.” If well-intentioned, his remarks made her feel very discouraged. Surely, there was some other contribution that she, a 20-year-old, could make to the quality of his life.
Ideally, perhaps, gift-giving is an exchange of equivalencies. Like the married couple in the O. Henry story, The Gift of the Magi, each gives the other something equally costly and equally valued. However, real life exhibits far-reaching status differences. It is expected that a parent will give more (and more costly) presents to a dependent child than have the reverse occur. A boss should give more to their employees—perhaps a Christmas bonus—than what they receive in return. Most of us believe that we should give presents, tips, or other tokens during holidays to those who perform “personal” services for us. We do not expect the same treatment from waiters, doormen, pet sitters, and cosmetologists.
Clearly, status issues are afoot. A boss may invite a select group of workers to his or her home for a party or dinner. That boss does not expect—or want—that invitation to be reciprocated. A teacher may appreciate a small token of affection or respect from a student. Anything beyond that is both inappropriate and disorienting.
In general, high-status people don’t want offers that call their sense of superiority into question. Richer people don’t want money gifts from poorer people. Powerful ones don’t appreciate offers of “help” with important decisions.
Such issues come to a head when the gift-givers are very close in status. Then, donors try to find out what the recipient wants or needs (two different things) and attempt to show themselves “thoughtful” or “considerate.” Rarely, however, do status issues disappear entirely. A well-chosen gift marks the donor as much as it does the recipient.
Obligations for recipients
Many of us have had to unwrap publicly some gruesome holiday gift, perhaps a garish, flowered sweater from Aunt Harriet. We’ve been taught to examine the contents graciously. There should be smiles and other expressions of gratitude. The item should remain in one’s hands for a suitable time; it must not immediately be set aside.
Note also that we should never say that we “expected” the gift or felt that it was otherwise due to us. Instead, we must say it was what we “wanted” or, more ambitiously, “hoped for.” The point is that, as recipients, we should make the donor feel that this was an act of generosity and discernment. Impressed with that spirit of benevolence, we tell them, “You shouldn’t have …”
Occasionally, we don’t like the gift. Ideally, we keep it anyway (such idealism is forced on us by homemade presents). Less honorably, we take it back to the store where it was purchased. Even then, we usually give some concocted, socially acceptable reason for doing so. The ugly shirt “didn’t fit.” The appalling necklace wasn’t comfortable or “gave us a rash.”
In essence, the obligation of the recipient is to make the donor believe they made the right choice and that the relationship is stronger now than it was before the exchange. It is acceptable to say that a present (such as a gift of money) is “too much.” It is never acceptable to claim that it is “too little.”
It’s the relationship that matters
Most holiday gifts are what Mauss called inter vivos exchanges, that is, transfers between living persons. That is, they are elements in relationships that we expect to continue for many years. Well-chosen presents buoy those relationships; poorly chosen ones—or disgraceful recipient behavior—damage them. A friend of mine once gave a senior colleague a gift of dried reindeer feces at the department office party. The gift, and the laughter it provoked, was not forgiven.
Most of the time, our gifts are meant to please and reassure people, to tell those others we care for them just as we always have. Sometimes, though, our offerings are attempts to move upward in the group hierarchy. A mature child wants to show the family that he or she has “made it,” that they can now afford things they couldn’t before, and should be seen in a new light. An aged parent makes clear they can no longer provide the elaborate holiday dinner they’ve customarily presented. The next generation should step up. Presents for younger kids must mark their stages of “growing up.”
Because we know all this, it makes the question of how to handle the bag on the porch even more difficult. Most of us already have ongoing gift commitments to family and friends. Adding another set of people to that list is a choice many of us would make, but we are careful to do this in a way that marks our judgment about that relationship. Let’s not pretend, or so the reciprocated offering on their porch indicates, that we are “good” or “close” friends just yet. Let’s see how these exchanges develop.
Small wonder that these holiday commitments worry us. Much more than expenditures of time, work, and money, they are public acts of respect to others and projections of our relationships with them.