“My grandfather passed away 10 years ago,” says Pedro, a third-generation scion of a family food business in Luzon.
“He started the business, he worked hard. We miss him,” Pedro adds. “We continue to honor Lolo. We meet as a clan on his birthday and death anniversary. We maintain the ancestral house, even if it costs a lot to get rid of termites.”
“The ancestral house can be a refuge for anyone in the family today,” I say.
“In the future, it can even be listed as a heritage house, for people to better understand the culture of your hometown. That would be fitting tribute to your grandparents.”
“That’s a good idea,” Pedro says. “We’ll discuss it as a family. But now I want to ask: do we really have to honor all of Lolo’s wishes, even if he is no longer around?”
“If you are talking about his will, then yes, it is a legal instrument,” I say.
“But that’s unfair,” says Pedro. “Why does he want to control us beyond the grave?”
“If the founder does not make his wishes clear while he is still of sound mind, then the children more often than not squabble over their share once he is gone. Your grandfather was wise enough to discuss inheritance matters with your family before he died. Don’t you agree that in this case, conflict was avoided?”
“OK, fine,” Pedro says. “But what about in other matters? What if I want to marry someone of a different ethnicity, a different faith? I would lose my inheritance.”
“Did your grandfather stipulate this in his will?” I say. “I am not a lawyer, but I am not sure it would hold up in court.”
“I don’t know if it’s in his will, but that’s what everyone says,” Pedro says. “Definitely the clause is in our family constitution, which I signed. Is it legal?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
Pedro sighs. He hands me a piece by Barry Lam, published in Aeon Magazine online on July 3, 2017, with the title: “Why do we so slavishly honor the wishes of the dead?”
Lam starts with an appeal to common sense. Since we do not honor the wishes of the dead in political matters (the dead do not have the right to vote, even if they stipulate their preferences in their will), then why do so in wealth?
“Through endowments, charitable trusts, dynasty trusts and inheritance law, trillions of dollars in the US economy and many legal institutions at all levels are tied up in executing the wishes of wealthy people who died long ago … As wealth inequality increases, the wealthy today are earmarking large amounts of money from the future economy to carry out their current wishes. The practice is so deeply ingrained in the culture of elite institutions, and such a ubiquitous feature of life, that only in obscure journals in law and philanthropy does anyone express concern about the justice of the practice.”
Lam skewers conditions of endowment (such as bequests to schools to study questionable causes) and inheritance (“giving distant descendants enormous amounts of wealth is good only if they are not sociopaths”). At worst, these mechanisms perpetuate inequality in society and in the world.
Lam pinpoints to our “misplaced sense of moral duty,” such as deathbed promises to our loved ones. But these are not “unconditional or eternal,” and should be treated the way we do our promises to the living.
“If I promise my child some candy but, through no fault of my own, the only available candy must be acquired at serious moral cost to some current candy owner, it is not morally obligatory to fulfill this promise. A promise itself holds some moral weight, but not overriding moral weight.”
“I am not sure about the legal or moral thing to do,” I hand the article back to Pedro.
“But instead of going to court, discuss your dilemma openly with your family and your loved one. That is the best way to honor your Lolo.”