The Quiet Politics of Giving
- Mario
- 18 hours ago
- 3 min read
Every brand wants to be generous. But few stop to ask what their generosity is actually saying. Each December, the same ritual plays out: boxes wrapped in branded ribbon, cards filled with templated warmth, curated gestures meant to convey gratitude. And yet, as I’ve watched this cycle repeat year after year, I’ve started to wonder — if everyone is giving, why does it feel so transactional?
We often talk about “the season of giving,” but in business, that phrase hides a strange contradiction. Giving, when done through a corporate lens, becomes performance. It’s no longer a language of gratitude; it’s a system of signalling, a way of maintaining hierarchy, reciprocity, and sometimes quiet obligation.
That’s why I’ve come to think of generosity as a form of politics. Every gift, especially a branded one, is a negotiation of meaning and power.
The hierarchy inside the gesture
The anthropologist Marcel Mauss once observed that gifts are never free. In his 1925 book The Gift, he described them as “total social facts” — objects that carry the weight of relationships, status, and expectation. In other words, giving is how societies reinforce belonging and boundaries at the same time.
That tension has never disappeared; it’s just been corporatized.
When a brand sends a gift, it’s not only saying thank you. It’s also saying remember us, stay with us, choose us again.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, commerce is built on exchange, but the question is how much of it still feels human.
The performance of generosity
I was recently looking at how Ocean Bottle structures its impact program. Each bottle funds the collection of ocean-bound plastic and tracks, in real time, the kilograms removed. It’s a small but powerful example of transparent reciprocity: the receiver doesn’t just accept a gift; they inherit participation in a shared purpose.
Most brands, however, default to what I call performative generosity, a kind of ritualized gratitude that communicates compliance more than connection. The overstuffed gift basket, the predictable pen, the branded tumbler with a slogan that already feels tired. These gestures speak loudly, but not meaningfully. They say, “We had to send something.”
Objects tell on us.
A reusable item says endurance.
A disposable one says indifference.
Local sourcing suggests care; imported abundance suggests scale.
Even typography whispers motive: handwritten fonts simulate intimacy, sans-serifs efficiency.
The materials themselves become language, whether we mean them to or not.
The economy of attention
In a world obsessed with metrics, generosity has quietly become another KPI. Brands measure reach, impressions, and engagement but rarely reflection. How many of those gestures landed? How many built trust? How many were simply seen and forgotten?
True generosity doesn’t compete for attention; it earns it through sincerity.
It lives in gestures that feel unexpected, specific, and unrepeatable not in mass replication.
Seth Godin once called permission marketing “the privilege of delivering anticipated, personal, and relevant messages to people who want to get them.” That privilege applies here, too. The most successful brand gifts are those that are invited — because they’re anchored in relationship, not routine.
Toward a quieter form of giving
Maybe the next evolution of brand generosity isn’t about more.
Maybe it’s about less noise and more meaning.
What would happen if brands designed gifts the way architects design spaces? With intentional emptiness, deliberate restraint, and room for interpretation?
Because the truth is, people don’t remember what they’re sent.
They remember how something made them feel: seen, understood, or part of something larger.
As the year winds down and inboxes fill with obligation disguised as goodwill, perhaps the most radical gesture a brand can make is to give less and mean it more.
Because every act of giving carries its own quiet politics: a negotiation of meaning, status, and sincerity. The question is whether it reinforces hierarchy, or builds connection.
At Aliant Brands, we believe thoughtful design is a form of generosity. If you’re rethinking how your brand shows appreciation this season, we’d love to help you shape something that lasts longer than December.
