Social Etiquette
Money, religion and politics, so the saying goes, should never be discussed in polite company. Some add a fourth – sex – but I doubt most people discuss it, let alone do it, even when alone. This has the cumulative effect of polite company actually being quite boring, not to say unsexy. Especially in a climate where everything is contested; something as innocent as bobbing your head to a Taylor Swift song at your local overpriced café can now be interpreted as a manifestation of ‘wokeness,’ tangible evidence of the decline of Western civilisation. Her terribly catchy melodies are even ‘worse’ than the innumerable wars, famines, tit-for-tats, and general skulduggery of our brothers and sisters of the West over the past two hundred years.
Looking around your local expat hangout, it is difficult to see this decline in effect. Western civilisation seems to be all the rage: the distinct twang of Americana, the quaint muddling of English grammar by European tongues, wafts across the café in between Swiftian songs as folks spend a labourer’s day wage on a cup of coffee alone. The obvious inequality between patron and staff is brushed over by smiles, generous tips, and sighs of a well-fed, portentous gut. In short, by good social etiquette.
On the global stage, there is a dearth of social etiquette. I have read one too many articles on how the rules of the global geopolitical ‘game’ have altered since the advent of Trump’s second term. Or rather, that there are no rules any longer. A global order that, in the past, provided a sense of regularity to international affairs is now simply the rule of the mighty. And who benefits from this collapse of diplomatic norms and international law? Finally, schoolyard bullies are having their day after years of being pushed to the margins of society, persecuted because of their distinctive and natural leadership style.
I write this column too far in advance to predict what will happen next. In general, my prophecies are restricted to licking my right index finger, sticking my left hand into the air, and flipping a coin to see which way the wind is blowing — just like any other good political scientist. That I am right only 30% of the time is probably the result of some climate change conspiracy peddled by deep state actors who profit from wind turbines in the geopolitically vital nation of Zambia. I couldn’t be wrong for any other reason.
On a more fundamental level, however, why should I care what happens next? What has seemed like a pretty uncertain — even ambivalent — existence thus far shows no signs of slowing down. Uncertainty is built into the system, as deranged as the next leader of the free world, almost as unhinged as your Aunt Tracy, who is always threatening to force you to join her Korean church and their cult-like Bible study groups. And so, maybe there’s something to being boring. Unsexy has never been so sexy.
Ah, small talk. The oil of the social etiquette machine. The thorn of existence, forever poking you in your buttocks to make sure that you are still awake. Some people hate it so much that, ironically, that’s all they talk about. “I just can’t stand meaningless conversation,” they insist, before launching into a 20-minute monologue about the weather. So, in the end, what is social etiquette if not a finely tuned game of pretending we care? A well-placed nod here, a half-hearted laugh there — enough to convince ourselves that civilisation isn’t unravelling at the seams.
But perhaps that’s the true art of etiquette, Karen: saying you hate small talk and proceeding to tell me, with no particular depth and feeling, how your holiday to that over-subscribed tourist destination somewhere two flights away went, and tipping just enough to soothe your conscience without actually changing anything.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other things to think about — real things, like: when last did that lazy waitress serve us? Ah, she’s avoiding eye contact. Oh well, I’ll show her — she’ll get no tip. Forget it, I’ll make a scene. After all, I need something new to tell Aunt Tracy at next week’s Bible study.
