On our recent trip to Europe, we were surprised again and again by how helpful most of the people we encountered were. Yes, since you asked, even the French. In fact, some folks at the information desk in Cavaillon went about of their way to help us get the bicycles we needed to travel to Gordes (as was the artist in Gordes whose floor I woke up on after a black-out, but that is another story).
A notable quality of European politeness, however, is that they don’t seem to feel it is necessary to smile at you constantly. At first, many of the people I encountered seemed to be scowling, but they were merely concentrating on what I was saying and trying to figure out if they could be of help. It is ironic that it took me a while to figure this out, since I tend to look a bit dark if I am concentrating, perhaps even hostile. But even total strangers who had no obvious reason to do so were friendly and helpful–even people in Paris were kind and patient with us.
But not cheerful in the way we are expected to be here in the States.
I recently discovered a very obscure 18th Century English thinker named Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 3rd Earl of Shaftesbury (1671 – 1713). I knew his Grandfather, also named Anthony Ashley-Cooper, who was a brilliant man, a lively conversationalist, a marvelous political player–although it almost cost him his head to James II–and who kept a very good table. He was also the patron of the philosopher John Locke, whom he also engaged as a tutor to his grandson.
The 2nd Earl, son of the 1st and father of the 2nd, was a git of the highest order.
The Third Earl, however, was an influential and, in his day, well thought of thinker. Most of the thinkers we associate with what we call Moral Sentiments were influenced by him. Among his claims was the observation that we–human beings, that is–seem to have an innate (sorry, Mr. Locke) tendency towards being kind to others. Contrary to thinkers such as Hobbes or Calvin who tend to take a rather dim view of human nature, Shaftesbury observed that we do have a tendency to help others–much as that wide variety of friends and strangers helped me on my recent trip.
His idea–and this seems insightful–was that it quite simply makes us happy to make other people happy. He coined a term–borrowing it from a jewelers term for the brightness or polish of a gem, and called this politeness. For him, politeness was about structured acts of kindness towards others, not about the snobbish pretensions of court etiquette or the dull, rote, empty obligations of church virtue, but a joyful giving of oneself, and of caring.
This seems true.
This seems to be a really important insight into human nature. We take pleasure in making a baby laugh, or a kitten purr, or a dog happy. We enjoy giving presents to others, and watching their faces light up when we give them something we know they will like. When we help somebody jump-start a dead battery or change a tire, we often feel good for the rest of the day.
Unfortunately, like all pleasures, it is not enough; we grow tired of it, and look for other pleasures.
I would like to learn how to at least LOOK like I wouldn’t be polite so people will leave me alone. I have what people call a retail face so everywhere I go people ask me stuff. “Where do you keep the stain remover?” “Is this the right card that I need for my computer tablet thingy?” “Where do you keep the adult diapers?” Now most of the time I know the answer, especially in Biglots. But even if I’m not sure, I will still go out of my way to help somebody just because I was taught to be polite and because it was always expected of me. Now having a retail face, for me, is another way of saying I have a fat face. It’s round and it makes me look jolly and helpful. I am neither, I just do things because Its expected of me. I don’t like babies, they do nothing for me. I will ooh and aw because its expected. I feel nothing, I just pretend to because its expected. Now if its a baby animal, I mean every oooh and awww that comes out of my mouth and really do turn into a friendly loving pile of goo, the rest of the time, no. Now if I could just learn to look hateful, say like Grumpy Cat, who is my hero then maybe people wouldn’t expect me to be jolly and friendly and helpful and would just leave me the hell alone. I’m going now to practice my grumpy frown in the mirror.