𝓤𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓝𝓮𝔀𝓼

The American writer William Arthur Ward once observed that “gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy, and change ordinary opportunities into blessings”. It’s a sentiment worth dwelling on, because gratitude – directed upward, outward, toward those who make things possible – seems to be in conspicuously short supply right now.

Resident doctors, for instance. Taxpayers have bankrolled both their training and their recent substantial pay rises. Yet rather than any expression of goodwill toward patients, the junior doctors’ dispute brought walkouts, cancelled appointments and operations deferred for months. The British Medical Association, to its credit, eventually said it remained open to a deal – but the language of gratitude never once entered the room.

Indeed, some of the stoppages became the longest strikes in NHS history, with tens of thousands of appointments cancelled and patients repeatedly warned to expect disruption. One can sympathise with concerns over workload and pay while still noticing a striking absence in modern public discourse: the idea that those funded by the public might occasionally acknowledge the sacrifices made by the public in return. Then there is the travelling public, who tap their cards, buy their tickets and plan their days around a network that periodically abandons them without apology.

When RMT members staged two day-long strikes on the London Underground last week, the only concession to passengers was a tannoy announcement advising them of the disruption – brisk, informational, entirely devoid of contrition. The dispute, it emerged, concerned proposed changes to working hours; members of the Associated Society of Locomotive Engineers and Firemen had already accepted a four-day week. One understands the appeal. Though it is worth noting that a great many commuters trudging to those platforms have long since made do with three days in the office and the rest at home – and do so without bringing a city to a standstill.

Similarly, local authorities increasingly communicate with residents in the language of managerial inevitability rather than service. Council tax rises arrive with glossy pamphlets explaining “ongoing challenges”, while basic services quietly diminish – fewer bin collections, libraries with reduced opening hours, potholes left for months. The assumption seems to be that residents should simply absorb higher costs without expecting even the courtesy of acknowledgement. Similarly, water company executives collect bonuses while pumping sewage into rivers and billing customers ever more for the privilege seem peculiarly unbothered by the public subsidy and goodwill their licences have historically depended upon.

Universities, too, increasingly display this curious ingratitude. Students now leave higher education carrying extraordinary debt burdens, often paying for accommodation that resembles luxury hotel pricing while being taught remotely for significant portions of their courses. Yet institutions continue issuing moral lectures and administrative emails, offering students little or no help as they seek to move into employment. All of this suggesting students should feel grateful merely to attend at all.

Against all this, consider what happened near the finish line of this year’s Boston Marathon. Two runners, deep in their own exhaustion, spotted a fellow competitor collapse yards from the end. Without hesitation, they hauled him upright and carried him across the line. No calculation, no hesitation – just one human being recognising the distress of another and acting. That is gratitude’s close cousin – decency.

Consider also the BBC. Viewers are now being warmly thanked, mid-schedule, simply for watching their televisions. “Everything we do is made possible because we are funded by you,” the announcer intones. “Thank you.” After decades of paying the licence fee in mute obligation, it turns out a little acknowledgement was all we ever wanted. If only others in the public realm were equally disposed toward those who fund them.

There are positive examples elsewhere. Some police officers now routinely thank members of the public who provide information or assistance. Certain NHS trusts have begun writing directly to volunteers and donors expressing appreciation for their support. During the pandemic, countless teachers sent personal messages to parents recognising the burdens families were carrying at home. Small gestures, perhaps, but memorable precisely because they have become so rare.

Ward was right. If those who benefit most from public funding, public goodwill and public patience could occasionally acknowledge it – even briefly – something in the atmosphere of civic life might quietly improve. It costs nothing. It changes everything.