From childhood, we are taught that it is not good to lie. And then they add that you need to be polite. It doesn’t seem like one thing goes well with the other, does it? However, the unusual point of view of the writer Alexander Genis seems to help put everything in its place.
I know how to save the world. He just won’t agree with me. But I still insist on my own and believe that the secret of survival is in hypocrisy. Its escalation can serve as a measure of civilization. The less often we say what we think, the easier it is for everyone to get along with each other.
Tolerance begins with lies and ends with politeness, which becomes an automatic reaction to any contact with an outsider. So the British, forgetting to think, apologize when they step on their feet.
In Japan, they simply do not step on the foot, but they apologize anyway. It is understandable: the islands are used to living in cramped conditions. But even in spacious America, they are rude only at the wheel.
I have been amazed many times how a man who has just overtaken me at the risk of both of our lives hides his eyes when he gets out of the car. Also because if he doesn’t hide, they can shoot him.
There are more fights on the American road than in bars. Perhaps because, having fenced off from others with glass and metal, it is easier to be yourself, and this is not always an appetizing sight.
Politeness is precisely what prevents us from opening up in this way — throwing ourselves out. Sometimes people are offended by politeness, rightly considering it a hypocritical deceit. I know for myself, because in Moscow they reproach me for my accent.
I have it, of course, and what kind, but not in my native language, which I have been speaking on the radio for half my life. I was perplexed for a long time, until I realized that the habit of always saying hello, even on the phone, was to blame for everything.
Meanwhile, politeness with strangers seems to many to be someone else’s whim, from which it is not far from political correctness.
And I can also understand this, because the antithesis of politeness is not rudeness, but sincerity. Frankness makes communication meaningful, politeness makes it possible. After all, we often talk with people who do not agree with us in anything. Dovlatov said: “You complain that they don’t let us into literature, but we wouldn’t let them into the tram.”
If sincerity is indispensable, like vodka, then politeness is indispensable, like water.
In extreme cases—when Republicans and Democrats mingle, cats and dogs, or butchers and vegans—it’s best to keep your mouth shut about the weather. Moreover, it is worth talking about interesting things — about love, money and the shortcomings of your neighbors — only sincerely.
If in English “You” are used to refer to God or Shakespeare (they are often confused), then Russian places an endless gradation of shades between “you” and “You”.
The intimate «you» requires unmixed feelings. It is suitable for those whom we love very much or greatly despise. For the rest, and this is the whole of humanity, «You» means a bunch of difficult, and sometimes opposite feelings.
A beautiful emotional ikebana is a mixture of truth and lies, that is, frankness and hypocrisy. And if sincerity is indispensable, like vodka, then politeness is necessary, like water.
You don’t want to live without the first, you can’t live without the second.