Call of Duty: The Dilemma of Filial Piety
I was taught at a young age the values of 孝顺父母 and 尊老爱幼—to be filial to your parents and to honor the elderly and love the young. As the youngest daughter in a traditional Chinese family, my life was shaped by expectations imposed by my family in which I had little say in. Countless hours were spent practicing Beethoven’s Sonata No. 8, 1st Movement when all I wanted to do was throw punches in a kickboxing class; or enduring Singapore’s excruciating heat wearing a modest long-sleeved dress deemed “proper” for gatherings. Seemingly trivial instances, perhaps, but they were decisions made for me, not by me.
Few cultural concepts are as deeply embedded in Asian social norms as filial piety, the long-standing golden standard of virtue that signifies respect, loyalty, and a sense of moral responsibility towards one’s parents. Rooted in Confucian teachings, this concept applies to many families, transcending socioeconomic boundaries (Wang, Tian, 2023). Its lasting influence is woven into contemporary laws and social expectations, prompting reflections on its evolving role in modern society. While filial piety is virtuous in intention, it can become a complex web that blurs the line between respect and repression. The question then arises: when does filial piety transform from a virtue into a ‘vice’ that stifles individuality and personal growth in the modern world?
In Chinese culture, face value—loosely translated to “pride”, “dignity” or “prestige”—plays an important role in filial piety, amplifying the demands of filial piety and linking individual successes to duties to honor my family (China Mike, 2024). It’s not just about meeting my parents’ expectations; it’s the added weight of knowing my achievements—and failures—will be shared with family and friends, a silent report card broadcast to all. The fear of failure looms larger when personal success becomes a reflection of family honor. Despite the encouragement of individuality and self-expressions from my liberal education, the pull of face value remains a powerful influence I can’t ignore. Don’t get me wrong—I work hard for my own sake. But when I find myself standing at a dinner table, surrounded by relatives or under the watchful eyes of disappointed parents, a wave of shame floods over me. “Why did you only get a B+?” I feel exposed, as though every missed expectation, every less-than-perfect grade, is a personal failure that I can’t hide from. “I wish you could be as smart as Uncle Vincent’s son.” These words echo in my mind, relentless as rain pounding against a fragile shield. “You could have gotten a higher SAT score if you tried harder.” You’re just not good enough. Will I ever be enough to meet the expectation? Each comment wears down my defenses, drop by drop, as my own sense of achievement is weighed against an invisible scale of cultural obligation and family pride. There are days when I feel I’m not enough—that I don’t try hard enough—and I am left grappling with the helplessness of not knowing how to repay them for everything they have done for me. That no matter how hard I work or how well I perform, I’ll always fall short of the standards set before me. In these moments, I’m betraying the unspoken promise to uphold my family’s honor. This is the paradox of filial piety: a duty that fills me with love and pride yet binds me in an unending pursuit of perfection. I feel compelled to excel, to prove myself, or else I fear I am not truly honoring my family.
In Singapore, filial piety is more than just a family value: it's a formalized expectation blending respect and restriction that’s embedded within the law. The Maintenance of Parents Act, passed in 1995, mandates that financially capable adult children must support their elderly parents if requested (Ministry of Social and Family Development). This law serves as safeguard, ensuring that the elderly are not left destitute in their old age. Yet, it overlooks the moral complexities of these relationships—cases of abusive or neglectful parents, for example. Are adult children morally or legally obligated to care for parents who may have caused them harm? To me, this law exemplifies a clash between preserving tradition and acknowledging the unique circumstances of individual families. Growing up in Singapore, I’ve felt the weight of this societal expectation—an unspoken pressure to fulfill family obligations even when they come at a personal cost. Countless times, I was expected to set aside my own plans to attend social gatherings, often with elders I barely knew, simply to demonstrate respect. Sacrificing my own time and priorities became second nature—a reminder of how deeply intertwined my personal life is with honoring my family’s values. Fortunately, the government has since recognized the shifting dynamics of modern society, implementing revisions to the law that protect children from parents with records of abandonment, abuse or neglect (Ministry of Social and Family Development). This change resonates with me, as it acknowledges that devotion should be mutual, not a burden for one side to bear unconditionally.
For my generation, filial piety can feel like a double-edged sword, both familiar and foreign, where respect is entangled with an underlying sense of restriction. These expectations resonate deeply—not just as abstract values but as pressures I face, unspoken yet palpable, to conform to my family’s wishes even when it conflicts with my personal desires. Watching Daughters Of Putien - The Women Who Were Meant To Marry Their Brothers, I was struck by how filial obligations could evolve into a cage. Set in Putien, a city in Fujian Province, this documentary unveils the feudal traditions that persists in rural China. In Putien, daughters were historically sold to foster families for a small price and were destined to marry foster brothers. Although outlawed in 1949, the practice continued and binded these women to their plight. A life they didn’t choose. They were commodities, stripped of agency and imprisoned by an extreme form of filial obligation. Stories like this make me question whether devotion to family should ever justify the total loss of personal freedom. I may not face such extreme circumstances, but the weight of cultural expectations sometimes seem to chart my life’s course without my consent, diminishing my sense of agency. These echoes of obligation remind me that virtue, when manipulated by outdated traditions, can veer into repression. Obedience, to be truly virtuous, should uplift—not confine.
It’s not just distant stories that highlight this dilemma; it’s close to home as well. One of my close friends, Sam, has been in a relationship with his boyfriend for two years but is terrified of coming out to his father. When his father asks about Sam’s romantic life, I often find myself having to lie to protect his secret, both of us aware of the possible fallout of the truth being told. Growing up in the same cultural context, I can foresee how his father would react: a painful mix of disappointment, shame, and perhaps even outright rejection. For Sam, revealing his relationships and sexuality risks damaging his bond with his family, severing ties bound by loyalty and expectation. Here, filial piety doesn’t just conflict with personal identity: it denies it completely. For me, Sam’s experience has been a stark reminder of the cost of unwavering respect. This unspoken requirement for obedience can often demand self-sacrifice and compliance, silencing the core parts of ourselves. It distorts a virtue meant to symbolize love and respect into a quiet form of repression.
Raised in a multi-generational household, I’ve long been aware of the sacrifices made by my parents and grandparents. It’s impossible not to feel indebted, as though I owe them something in return. I feel inclined to repay that dedication. My mom frequently expresses her fear of growing old alone or being placed in a nursing home, her anxiety deepened by the influence of distressing stories online about neglected elders. Her concerns serve as a poignant reminder of the power of these expectations, woven into our lives, shaping not just how we view our parents but also how we perceive ourselves. While I would never see my mom as a burden, her worries underscore the balance between love and duty, a balance that often becomes an emotional weight for both sides. This unspoken contract binds generations, each gesture of care infused with both gratitude and obligation. A complex, silent language of love that is as heavy as it is meaningful.
This, then, is the dilemma of filial piety for my generation: how to honor this tradition without feeling constrained by it. Around me, I see many friends moving abroad, living independently, and exploring their paths. I wonder how many of us are willing to pause our lives to care for aging parents if it comes to that, whether it’s taking in parents to live with our own families? And how many will choose to remain free from this responsibility, favoring self-discovery over tradition? I’m torn between these two paths, raised within a more liberal educational system that prizes autonomy and freedom of expression yet also bound by cultural values that demand loyalty and duty.
Perhaps there’s a way to redefine filial piety, framing it as an exchange of mutual respect rather than a compliance. Instead of blind obedience, filial piety could evolve into a relationship that values both tradition and the right to personal growth. This shift doesn’t mean abandoning the values of our ancestors, but rather adapting them in a way that respects both family and self. After all, filial piety, while inherently a virtue, becomes complex when it clashes with personal well-being. This balance may be the answer for those of us caught between two worlds, searching for a way to respect our heritage without sacrificing our own identities and happiness.
References
China Mike. “The Cult of Face in China.” China Mike (blog), May 8, 2024. https://www.china-mike.com/chinese-culture/cult-of-face/.
CNA. “Daughters Of Putien - The Women Who Were Meant To Marry Their Brothers.” Video. CNA, July 13, 2024. https://www.channelnewsasia.com/watch/daughters-putien/women-who-were-meant-marry-their-brothers-4475076.
Ministry of Social and Family Development. “Maintenance Of Parents Act.” Ministry of Social and Family Development. Accessed November 12, 2024. https://www.msf.gov.sg/what-we-do/maintenance-of-parents/about/about-maintenance-of-parents-act.
Wang, Xueyin, and Xiaolei Tian. “Teaching with Filial Piety: A Study of the Filial Piety Thought of Confucianism.” Trans/Form/Ação 46, no. 4 (April 1, 2023): 287–302. https://doi.org/10.1590/0101-3173.2023.v46n4.p303.