Good Fences and Good Manners

Whether or not good fences make good neighbors, good manners certainly do. And yet, fences also matter. They create boundaries between what is mine and what is yours. They allow each of us a measure of privacy. They establish a difference between public and private property.

Fences place us somewhere, not everywhere and not nowhere. Being a member of a group means situating yourself, somewhere. You cannot belong if you are everywhere or nowhere.

A good neighbor respects your space. He is not always in your business. This shows his good manners.

We have it on the authority of Judith Martin, aka Miss Manners, that good manners are essential to social harmony and good relationships. Surely, the world would be a better place if all therapists were required to take a course in manners, in etiquette. Admittedly, etiquette does not always coincide with ethics, but still, good manners make you a member of a group. Bad behavior, or even manners that do not harmonize with those of other group members, will designate you an outsider. Trust me, you do not want to be an outsider.

Now, psychologist Ty Tashiro has written a new book about how to overcome social awkwardness. (Via Maggie’s Farm) Being naturally (or unnaturally) awkward himself, he has thought about the problem and has had to work hard to overcome what others might call his social anxiety. As it happens, he does not call it social anxiety, and thus prevents us from imagining that it can be treated with a pill. If you do not know etiquette no pill is going to teach it to you.

Tashiro arrives at some good conclusions about why manners matter, why they have always mattered and why they will continue to matter.

If you imagine that manners are constraining because they do not allow you to express yourself fully to other people, you have had too much therapy and do not understand the basics of social interaction.

Since we all want to know how manners developed in primitive societies, Tashiro quotes the research of anthropologist Mary Douglas. If you have good manners you are seen as a trustworthy member of a group:

Parents and other adults know that good manners are important because they’re a way to demonstrate your spirit of cooperation and respect for others. Anthropologist Mary Douglas has noted in her book Purity and Danger that our sharp attention to manners evolved from small hunter-gatherer groups, whose survival relied heavily on groups functioning as a coherent, cooperative whole. A rogue member who stole food, slacked during the hunt, or committed a treasonous act endangered the lives of everyone in the group.

When group survival depended on active participation in a cooperative enterprise, one that placed the good of the group ahead of personal gratification, manners mattered:

Manners served as a kind of early-warning system—a way to identify people whose actions might go against the broader good. A person who wasn’t good at waiting his turn for food was a potential threat. A simple “thank you” acknowledged that the group member was capable of recognizing the value of other people and their contributions.

If you are cooperative you also become more likable. This applies to you even if you are a robot. Yes, you heard that correctly:

Today, a growing number of scientists are exploring manners as they attempt to design robots that are trustworthy and likable. Early findings from this research suggest that it’s not the processing power or resolution of the graphic interface that matter when it comes to likability, but instead robots’ ability to execute routine manners properly—like not standing too close to a person, or listening when others speak. If people perceive a robot to be poorly mannered, then they don’t care about its technological brilliance.

What makes for good manners? Tashiro has a number of recommendations. True enough, we, and he could conjure up many more, but he had to start somewhere.

First, he recommends that we not force others to share our mood, even if we are happy. We should not, he suggests force others to feel the same optimism as we do. I would add that if we do so we do not respect the boundary between us and them. Thus we are being invasive and intrusive… and ignoring the Frostian theme.

Second, he suggests that we be kind to others. When a friend sends you a draft of an article he is working on, understand that it is a draft and that being a friend means offering support, not criticism. For reasons that escape me—or, should I say, that I wish escaped me— some people feel constrained to offer a ruthlessly critical assessment of work product, regardless of how much it hurts the other person. Or else, they ignore the work because they do not agree with it. Making kind, supportive gestures is a sign of good manners. Doing anything else makes you a moral lowlife.

You want to encourage the other person to keep working, not to make him feel so worthless that he cannot continue to work. Get it!

Third, respecting the privacy of others means not gossiping! When someone confides his problems with a task, you ought not to repeat what he has said, to anyone. This is especially important, Tashiro says, in workplace interactions:

One of the best courtesies you can give to your colleagues to show respect for their privacy. When you do talk about co-workers in their absence—particularly in groups—make sure to avoid putting their trials and tribulations in the spotlight.

Finally, Tashiro recommends that we react to the faults of others with grace. One might also say that we need to be concerned with saving the other person’s face. It is, dare I say, one of the keys to good human relations. If someone spills a drink you should not laugh at him, criticize him or even scowl at his clumsiness. You should pretend that it did not happen, or else, that it does not mean anything:

Unlike patience and tolerance, which involves suppressing a strong feeling of annoyance, grace arises from a spirit of goodwill—a provisional assumption that people mean well. I am more likely than the average person to accidentally call people by the wrong name or spill my drink on their lap. After these gaffes, no one feels worse than me. So it means a tremendous amount to me when people react with grace. They not only show forgiveness, they also demonstrate their faith that I am a well-intentioned person—who also happens to be clumsy at times.

If you feel annoyed, do not express your annoyance. You should not follow the advice that infects the therapy culture: to express your feelings, just because you feel them.

You and your friend, even you and your new acquaintance are supposedly on the same team. If you want to remain on the same team, you do best to cut him some slack and to ignore his infelicitous behaviors.

You do so, Tashiro notes, because you assume that your friend’s clumsiness is not intentional. You assume that he has not meant to insult you. You do what you learned in Sunday School: you turn the other cheek.

Turning the other cheek means that you should not retaliate until you know that a slight was intentional. You give the other person the benefit of the doubt, until you know otherwise.