rudeness

December 17, 2023

Making Fun or Having Fun? A Question of Civility

Are you having fun yet? Are you making it, as in creating it, or making fun of another? What if the person who started the laughter calls you “too sensitive?” What if he intends to defeat or harm you? Finally, what if he is indifferent to your presence, acting as if you, the performers, and the audience at a concert are invisible?

Childhood tests everyone. Some children scan for targets, searching for the one wearing the “kick me” sign. They see you as an obstacle that must be overcome to rise higher.

Bullies have always been there. The only successful ways to deal with them are indifference or fighting back. Wittiness helps, like the cleverness of Cyrano de Bergerac or a standup comic who can put down the heckler.

In school, policies don’t always hold weight. Like weeds, the aggressors find a desirable spot and sprout up again, perhaps on the way home or the weekend.

Hiding is only occasional help. The one who lives to humiliate will acquire copycats and followers. But those who tell jokes at your expense or want your lunch money are giving you a hint, no matter their intention. It’s time to toughen up.

It can be enough to stand up for yourself, even if you lose. The trick of the bully’s dominance is to pick an easy target. Don’t create a bullseye; you have a chance someone else will be chosen. Unless the neighborhood grows hard guys, then you must get out. 

At home, it’s a similar story. The abuser lives with you. Others in the family may be blind to the inner and outer scars. Children aren’t made to think they don’t deserve the harm delivered by a guardian. 

They are lucky to find another adult, one who is kind and provides affirmation. If the youth is insightful, he realizes it is not his fault.

None of the above concerns the change in everyday social discourse: the decades-long decline of civility. People increasingly speak to be heard, not to listen, least of all to learn, like a blackboard that refuses new markings.

Carpenters might say, “Measure twice, cut once,” but much public speech lives by speed, not measurement, lest the cut won’t take down the opponent. Cut first; measure never?

If you entered a grade school class back in the day, the teacher stood higher, established order, and had eyes in the back of her head. Schoolroom chaos isn’t surprising today. The instructor is caught between the parents and students on one side and the administration on the other.

Libraries were places of silence, not occupied by teens making slapdash efforts to whisper. Talking over others before they complete a thought is a routine part of interviews and discussion programs on radio and TV.

Proportion, politeness, patience, hesitation, diplomacy, and careful word choice have been replaced with higher-volume assertions, often rife with accusations regarding the opponent’s character. Bludgeoning with rapid-fire sentences substitutes for the subtlety possible in thoughtful discourse. Perhaps next will come a headsman who will dispense with speech other than permitting a few last words before the guillotine descends.

Or consider this story from Norman Lebrecht’s Slipped Disc Blog concerning a December 8, 2023, performance of the Mahler 9th Symphony and the Aarhus Symphony Orchestra:

In the closing pages of the symphony where the sound fades to nothingness, a man stood up, slowly buttoned his coat, made his way to the exit and let the door slam.

Artistic director Jesper Norden writes: ‘What the man is doing is so blatantly disrespectful that I have never in my 30 years in this industry experienced anything similar. I would like to trade that barbaric deed for 10 mindless cell phones, or 1,000 winter coughs.

Imagine that you can be so thoughtless, so vilely indifferent to the intimate moment of 1300 other people, with the monumental efforts of the orchestra, so indifferent to the special importance exactly last night had for everyone on stage’.

The situation was worsened by the orchestra being in mourning for a horn player who died this week of a brain tumour, aged 53. The concert was dedicated to his memory.

At a moment in history when many fear causing offense–hesitant like the child on the playground–the offenders recognize they and their high jinks are given a wide berth.

Pastor Martin Niemöller comes to mind:

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.**

The Pied Pipers rule the day.

Yes, some children will follow–because adults took the first place in line.

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The three Max Beckmann paintings were sourced from Wikiart.org

They are Night, Family Picture, and Party in Paris, from top to bottom.

**The following comes from the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum:

Martin Niemöller (1892–1984) was a prominent Lutheran pastor in Germany. In the 1920s and early 1930s, he sympathized with many Nazi ideas and supported radically right-wing political movements. But after Adolf Hitler came to power in 1933, Niemöller became an outspoken critic of Hitler’s interference in the Protestant Church. He spent the last eight years of Nazi rule, from 1937 to 1945, in Nazi prisons and concentration camps. Niemöller is perhaps best remembered for his postwar statement, which begins “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out…”

November 22, 2013

Naked City: A Music Story

Naked_City_(TV_Series_1958-1963)

Sometimes the most interesting thing about a concert has nothing to do with the music. Witness what happened at the Kaufmann Concert Hall of New York’s 92nd Street Y on November 16th, 2013 when one strange man stole a bit of the show. A performance given in a metropolis sometimes called the “Naked City.”

The gentleman in question walked down the left aisle just before the Hagen Quartet came on stage to play an all-Beethoven program. As he entered his row close to the stage, he faced right and loudly addressed the assembled throng:

I really don’t want to be here. I guess it’s impolite to say, but I’m not interested in this.

The speaker seemed to be alone, so no one had taken him to the concert as a hostage. But, I will admit, he did look strange. The gentleman was short and bearded — nothing remarkable there. But he wore a baseball cap with a picture of Jesus facing forward and a sparkly or glitter-filled abstract pattern decorating the bill of the hat. A tan vest covered his aquamarine blue shirt. And, perhaps most interestingly, he had standard-sized headphones on the top of his head and covering his ears, all the while holding a CD player in his right hand. Would he even be listening to the live performance as it happened or to whatever recording he preferred?

Patrons seated close by were clearly concerned. One summoned an usher who must have remonstrated the fellow just as the Hagen Quartet entered the stage. Happily, the first half of the concert proceeded without incident and almost certainly without the knowledge of the performers that there might be a vocal eruption interrupting them before they were done.

One could only wonder if Patron X would return after intermission, when the big piece of the night, Beethoven’s Quartet #14 in c#, Opus 131 would be presented, one of the greatest of the great works.

Again, the unexpected happened just before the musicians returned, even if it was now slightly less surprising. The man loudly said, “Calm Down.” To others? To himself? I’d guess the latter.

And then, as before, the Hagen Quartet — two brothers and a sister all named Hagen, along with Rainer Schmidt — began a musical journey to the mountain top of artistic expression — presumably untroubled by the little guy back on earth who didn’t want to be there.

An evening, then, of the ridiculous and the sublime. A crisis averted. A man, probably not all that stable, who kept himself in just-enough check to let the show go on. Or perhaps it was the music that did the job. As William Congreve put it in 1697,

Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast,
To soften Rocks, or bend a knotted Oak.

Some of us go to concerts to experience the transcendent. Perhaps this man, too, was trying to transcend his own limitations. Maybe his first public statement was intended to identify his discomfort as well to remind himself that any ensuing misbehavior might be “impolite;” thus to set the stage for achieving an unaccustomed level of control and comportment in a situation that was difficult for him, something he must struggle with often. His second loud announcement could then be understood as a kind of personal guidance he’d learned to give himself in order to keep on track toward his goal of self-control. No way for me to know with certainty, or course.

As the narrator of the old New York-based, TV police drama “Naked City” used to say over the closing credits:

There are eight million stories in the Naked City. This has been one of them.

The performance of the Hagen Quartet, by the way, was enthralling. But what I’m wondering is, did we 900 in the audience — witnessing a man struggling to restrain himself and a quartet reaching for the sublime on stage — really observe not one but two of the hard-won, small miracles that sometimes happen in the “Naked City?”

—

The above image is the title card of the 1958-1963 TV drama Naked City. It is sourced from Wikipedia.org.

May 6, 2013

The R.S.V.P Puzzle

rsvp

In the ancient world (or perhaps I should say, in the 1960s) everyone knew what R.S.V.P. meant. Today, not so much. Oh, people do think they know. But, you can be dead sure and dead wrong.

Consider today’s essay a short lesson in good taste and good manners. It might make people like you more.

An example will illustrate the point. I had the occasion to invite several people to a dinner for an organization with which I am involved. It is a not-for-profit corporation. These particular invitees had been helpful to the enterprise, but we didn’t know all of them well. The invitations requested them to R.S.V.P. It was clear that the dinner would be free to each one, a material way to thank them for their good-will and assistance.

Fourteen of these invitations were sent, but only three responses were received as the date approached. About two weeks before the event emails were sent with a second request to R.S.V.P. This brought additional answers to the question of whether we should expect their attendance or not.

Out of the blue came two emails from people who had not been invited, telling us that they would be coming. Whoa! How did this happen?

It turned out that these were associates of two of the real invitees. The newcomers were individuals whom we had never met and had not been involved with our not-for-profit corporation. They’d been given the invitations and encouraged to attend our event. Indeed, they were temporary employees in those organizations that had been helpful to us.

This put us in the awkward position of having to tell these people that they had not been invited (as they already knew); and, since we are a charity, to inform them that we had a limited capacity to provide complimentary dinners that would diminish the funds available for our philanthropic efforts.

The attempt to pass along our invitation reminded me of a practice that has occurred in wartime. During the Civil War, for example, you could get out of serving as a soldier if you could find someone willing to substitute for you. Still, this was hardly the Civil War, but a simple dinner invitation done in gratitude for the help provided to us. No bullets would be flying.

So what happened? Why did we receive responses from less than 2/3 of those to whom we wished to show some kindness and gratitude? And why did two of those people think it would be appropriate to pass along our invitation to others we did not know without asking us if this was permissible?

First, I don’t think anyone intentionally wanted to be rude. These are all good and decent folks. They do good work at their places of employment. They had no motive to be disrespectful and I’m sure had no intention of being thoughtless.

What other explanation might then account for the failure to respond? I suspect that R.S.V.P has somehow lost a bit of its meaning, the compulsory quality it used to carry. So what exactly does it mean to R.S.V.P. and what did it mean once upon a time?

Let’s start with the literal meaning. It is an abbreviation of a common French phrase whose translation is, “Please respond.”

According to Wikipedia:

The high society of England adopted French etiquette in the late 18th century, and the writings of Emily Post (the authority on etiquette) aim to offer a standard no more stringent than that tradition. Late 20th century editions (of her book), building on her 1920s beginning work, say… that “Anyone receiving an invitation with an RSVP on it is obliged to reply….” and some recent editions describe breaching this standard as “inexcusably rude.”

Emily Post advises (that) anyone receiving an invitation with an R.S.V.P. on it must reply promptly, and should reply within a day or two of receiving the invitation.

OK, so when you receive a written invitation to an event, it is expected that you will quickly inform your host whether or not you plan to attend. That puts some pressure on you: if you are coming you need to so inform the sender; equally, if you are not coming, your anticipated non-attendance must also be reported.

Why?

  1. First, because someone has thought of you favorably. He or she wishes the pleasure of your company. It may be your brilliance, your beauty, your fame, your charm, or something else, but the invitation says that you matter. By responding you acknowledge the kindness and compliment being extended to you and take a small step in reciprocating. In effect, you are saying, “Thank you for the invitation. You matter to me, too.”
  2. Invitations generally do not go to everyone. Space is often limited. If the host or hostess is to be able to plan to fill those spaces, he or she needs to know who will be there and who won’t.
  3. Social gatherings generally involve food and refreshments. The party planner must have a reasonable idea of how much to buy, how much to prepare, how much to budget. And, they must have enough advanced notice to do this.
  4. You were invited. Not your understudy, not your next-door-neighbor, not your business associate. Don’t assume that anyone else can substitute for you. That diminishes the importance of the thoughtfulness of the host or hostess in choosing you.

I suspect that many of us don’t think about these things too much; don’t think about the reasons our potential benefactor needs to hear from us, sooner rather than later or not at all. Some assume that they need to respond only with regrets at not being able to come. And, indeed, many invitations come with the message “Regrets only.”

I imagine that when some of us delay responding or don’t respond at all, we are thinking, “Oh, one person more or less isn’t going to matter that much;” or “I’ll get to it later.” No harm is intended by this attitude, yet there can be inconvenience or expense to the person extending the invitation. Remember, that person has to answer the question “Should I buy enough chicken for a dinner of 15 or 115?”

I also have witnessed, as have all of us over 40, that the civilized world has become a more casual place, one with fewer dress codes, social restrictions, and compulsory expectations. A world that is a bit friendlier and more at ease. But, sometimes that ease is purchased at the price of slackness, inconsideration, and unreliability. I can’t tell you what the perfect balance is, but I can tell you that if you are planning an event, you hope that people take your invitations seriously and make your life a little easier by informing you of their plans with respect to it.

Immanuel Kant, the great German philosopher, offered us a way to think about situations like this. He wrote about the idea of a “categorical imperative” when it comes to rules for moral behavior. He suggested that each of us should ask ourselves some version of the following question: Would I be content if the rules I use to govern my behavior (like viewing an R.S.V.P as optional) also apply to everyone else in the world? And, would the world be better or worse for it?

Really, it is pretty simple. The Golden Rule is almost always a great way to evaluate our conduct. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Even in response to dinner invitations.

September 16, 2009

What Should be the Last Word on the Question of Civility and Rudeness?

Memo to Kanye West, Serena Williams, and Representative Joe “You Lie” Wilson:

If you do not wish to be treated offensively, do not give offense.

In other words, live by the Golden Rule.