All I want for Christmas is… nothing
My letter to Santa
Dear Mr Claus,
I believe I have been a good boy this year. Should I be on your ‘nice’ list, I would like to ask for… Nothing. No, I’m probably not the first to ask this, and yes this makes me privileged and pretentious (moi?!), but it’s what I want. Allow me to explain.
I was raised in a Hindu household, but my family always respected Christmas traditions — mainly through food, TV, and even attending carol services in Churches and community halls on occasion. We also gave each other a gift or two to mark the birth of Christ, a good man after all, and to honour the beginning of a new year.
My wife’s family, also Hindu, really do Christmas on a grand scale, and it’s fun. A tree, full on (veggie) Christmas lunch, and yes, gifts. As a generous, warm-hearted, giving family, they do gifts a-plenty. Especially for my son and his cousins, who are showered with toys, books, clothes and the like by grandparents who dote on them.
In asking for nothing for myself this year, I don’t wish to appear ungrateful. I have received many a gift at Christmas and worn, eaten and used them with pleasure — I am lucky enough that my loving family cares, and are able to spend time and money on me and my loved ones in this and other ways. But the amount of stuff bought at Christmas — not just by my family but by most people who celebrate Christmas generally — has always bothered me somewhat.
This year, something clicked, and I really would like nothing at all. Here are a few reasons why:
- Waste. I am lucky enough to have more than enough stuff to enjoy life. More stuff won’t make me happier, and may go to waste. In addition to the gift wrapping, glittery cards and plastic packaging, the carbon emissions wrapped up (pun very much intended) in Christmas presents I might receive have long troubled me. Perhaps I’m more conscious of this because of the small part I am playing in OneGreenGov, the events promoting climate action by public servants across the globe in January. Perhaps it’s a broader awareness throughout society that our choices impact the planet. Somehow, my discomfort with the industrial scale of gift-giving at Christmas has led me to want nothing this year.
- Privilege. Again, I have more than I could really wish for. Millions don’t. Billions, globally. This year I will be spending Christmas in India, at a family wedding — a lavish one no doubt — in amongst unimaginable poverty. Unimaginable, that is, if you haven’t seen, heard, smelled it first hand as I have a dozen times whilst visiting relatives there. I would feel awkward knowing I have yet more stuff waiting for me at home while those I pass by on 25th December have literally nothing. Closer to home, we are never far from someone without food or shelter.
- Opportunity. That privilege of not really needing anything this year is also an opportunity. Let’s say others spend £200 on me per year. That isn’t going to transform anyone’s life, it isn’t going to end global poverty. But it could keep someone warmer, better-fed, more complete, than they otherwise would have been.
So when I say I’m asking for nothing, what I’d like you to do, Mr Claus (can I call you Fred?), is to direct any gifts that might be on their way to me, towards someone who needs them. What I’d love my friends and family to do is to find their nearest food bank (Trussell Trust and Peabody are just two providers), ask them what they are most in need of — tins, cereals, blankets, whatever — and spend what they would have done on me on these items. And if that isn’t enough, maybe make a donation to a charity working to mitigate the effects of climate change. In doing so, please seek advice on their impact.
I’ll probably buy gifts for others this year, but fewer. I haven’t become less generous, just more discerning — I trust my family will respect this.
But for me, this year, I want nothing for Christmas. Maybe that’s to make me feel all smug. Maybe I’m being all bah-humbug (this, as it happens, is true in part). But maybe, I want nothing for me, so that others can get what they need, and so my impact on the planet is that much smaller — wonder what a beardy chap born a while back would have made of that…?
Yours etc
Prateek (aged 39)