I received a well-reasoned email from a friend of mine in response to my last blog-post. Since it offers a potential corrective to the views posted therein, I’ll reproduce part of it here (with her permission, of course):
I agree with the distinction but not the example. Aren’t hints how we get by? I know (gosh, do I know) that it can be frustrating always to be searching for hidden meaning in somebody’s actions and words, but how do we rate the awkwardness that a confrontation invites versus the benefits of getting a definitive answer (/shut down)? I agree that if someone brings it up, both parties should be honest. But if the crusher stays quiet and crushee only suspects, isn’t the best (kindest) reaction one of those “nice” ones you mentioned? If crushee talks about another potential romantic interest, crusher is free to re-evaluate without awkwardness: are they interested in continuing with the relationship in the redefined role of friend? What’s the upside to directness here? I don’t know if I could go right to being friends with someone after he had candidly rejected me. I don’t think you can write off hurt feelings, embarrassment, and awkwardness as inconsequential. But hints can be so friggin hard to read! I guess mixed tapes ARE the best solution: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_zzGOJAHH0w.
It is quite possible that there is a bit of a gender disparity at work here. There are some modern scientific studies which suggest that women might, on average, be better at empathizing (and, thus, at reading social cues) than men. Personally, I have found few things more irritating than being in a romantic situation wherein I am expected to magically intuit precisely what is bothering my partner, especially when I realize that things are going to become unpleasant for me if I fail. Now, I am a caring, emphathetic person, but I am neither a mind-reader nor a wizard. As such, I can certainly appreciate the appeal of someone overtly saying: “hey, in case you are wondering, I’m interested in you” or, conversely, “I’ve been getting a romantic vibe from you… just so you know, I’d rather be friends.” For me, that type of openness makes life easier, though I suppose I can acknowledge that there might be situations where it could be undesired. That said, we are left with a question: is it better to allow someone to continue down a path that will cause them future pain or to attempt to avoid this entirely through openness in the present? Note: this may be a false dichotomy.
She continues:
I like the idea of etiquette as something that’s meant to make everyone feel as comfortable as possible, like everyone at a table drinking out of the finger bowl because one guest mistakenly does so. And so I like to believe that social niceties evolved from… a kind place. (This all makes me think of an A. J. Jacobs article about Radical Honesty called “I Think You’re Fat”.)
Lead the people with administrative injunctions and keep them orderly with penal law, and they will avoid punishments but will be without a sense of shame. Lead them with excellence (de) and keep them orderly through observing ritual propriety (li) and they will develop a sense of shame, and moreover, will order themselves (Analects 2.3)
I really liked this post, Kris <3. I am also enjoying the article on radical honesty. I hadn’t heard of it before. Reading through it provokes a lot of thought on honesty. The biggest thing that it brings to mind is the difference between being genuine and saying whatever comes to mind. We’ll have to talk about it sometime. It takes me forever to write anything.
Well we might assume that after dinner, somebody pulls the fingerbowl-drinker aside to set him straight, having saved him the embarrassment of feeling out of place at the dinner table (“uhh, listen… not a huge deal, but…”). But even if the offender were to remain blissfully unaware of his social transgression, the idea that he would miss out on job or bootay because he likes hot lemony water only attributes rudeness to his next dinner companions, because really, they’d be faced with the same question as the first group: point and laugh or join in? I’ve always read that drawing attention to someone’s foibles–at least publically– is usually in worse taste than whatever that person may be doing. So this is where the distinction really comes into play, I think. In a job interview, etiquette is likely more about impressing than it is about fitting in. Maybe this is the way it is with a date, too, but that’s why we need to question the motives behind our social graces. If the employer and the date do the “nice” thing and follow the queen’s (rumoured) example by drinking from their fingerbowls, but they silently judge the guy and this affects their subsequent interactions, well I think that’s unkind. But what if they think, “Well heck! Add a little sugar and we’ve got ourselves a mocktail!” (or, you know, they give him a job and a suggestive wink (respectively))? Well now they’re nice AND kind, and maybe drinking out of the fingerbowls becomes the new thing to do! Suddenly everyone is eating chocolate bars with a knife and fork and talking with a lisp!
And nobody’s embarrassed. Phew.
Robin: I don’t disagree with what you’re saying in principle (in fact, I think it is a heart-warming sentiment), the problem, in my opinion, is that it relies on too optimistic a picture of human interactions. People (especially strangers) are constantly judging each other: appearance, musical tastes, mispronounced words, levels of social aptitude – all of these things figure into our assessments of who we want to spend time with, who we want to date or who we want to hire. Thus, I stand by the position that the kindest thing to do is to let someone know when they’ve transgressed a boundary (whether it be a boundary of manners, social mores, or what-have-you).
That said, I acknowledge your example’s original context (the apocryphal story of Queen Victoria drinking from a finger bowl at a state dinner so as not to embarrass a guest) does complicate things. In a diplomatic meeting between strangers (especially if there are unequal power relationships involved), it is probably more kind to avoid pointing out your guest’s faux-pas, as it would probably be read by other diner’s as an invitation to mock or deride them.
The central question, I suppose, isn’t about when honesty is the best policy (as, I would argue, it always is), but instead about what deserves mention. We have executive function (and hence the ability to control what we say) for a reason and perhaps part of that reason is so that we don’t act like assholes. The A. J. Jacobs piece you linked to is a perfect example of what happens when you let a deterministic commitment to honesty override your desire to treat people with respect.