Spit it out!

Coming from a culture which values ambiguity and politeness in language, it's noticeable and when another islander doesn't play by the rules. A few years ago I presented a friend who'd set up a website for me (no longer functioning) with a stained glass panel I'd made based on a photo of her from our punk days as a thank you. "Hmmm, it's alright," she said, totally oblivious to the amount of work I'd put into it, "but look! That bit hasn't come out very well," she added, pointing out a bit where the paint was fainter. When I mentioned that I'd be happy to give it to her, she brusquely said that she didn't want such a gift as she'd have no use for it. Although I would find such a comment rude whoever made it, I would tend to be a little more forgiving if it had been, say, an Italian friend rather than another Brit. It would've been far more socially acceptable if she'd refused it by saying I should try and sell it, seeing as art was my livelihood. The meta-message would have been received loud and clear - maybe she wasn't too keen on having a stained glass picture of herself or couldn't think of anywhere to put it, but she didn't want to be rude.

This person has a history of pissing off friends which has nothing to do with culture and everything to do with rudeness and not bloody thinking. True to say, much communication in the U.K. relies on not telling it how it is and expecting the other person to 'get it', and most of the time it tends to work. When I was in Japan I began to see a number of similarities between Us and Them, and this ambiguity in language and negative politeness was touched on this week while I was out some students on a social event. A Swiss German gentleman was laughing because earlier he'd learnt the phrase I was wondering if you'd mind...? "But why would I be wondering?" he asked. Meanwhile, the German guy complained quite vehemently when his beer arrived, saying that it wasn't in the right type of glass, while the red-faced Turkish and Japanese students kept quiet.

Another German's experience shows different communication styles. While on his way to his English course in London from Frankfurt, he heard his name called over the tannoy while he was browsing in a bookshop. "Herr Muller, please go to gate 67 immediately! You are holding up the plane!" It's a bit too direct for the British palate, not least because everyone will be looking and pointing at Herr Muller when he finally boards. I can imagine an airline worker saying, Would Mr. Muller please go to gate 67 immediately as your plane is getting ready to board, leaving Mr. Miller in no doubt that he's putting the captain and crew out.

British English owes a large debt to the German language and plenty of people here can claim Saxon heritage. Having grown up speaking with a Scottish accent, I always found German pronunciation quite easy. But that little bit of water cutting off us from mainland Europe has a lot to answer for when it comes to plain speaking!

Here's a story that involves my mum, two younger sisters and a friend of my mum's. This friend worked in merchandising and counted members of the British rock firmament as nodding acquaintances, though he probably embellished this a touch. Andy did however occasionally manage to get my sisters and I onto various gig guest lists. One such 'gig' was an eclipse party held at the country pile of a member of a huge rock British band. The members of this band are all very bright, university-educated men who would've had no trouble finding useful employment if their band hadn't struck oil in the mid-seventies. Indeed, this was the second time my mum had rubbed shoulders with the owner of the country pile, as he and the band's late singer used to run a stall at the now-defunkt Kensington Market in London (not to be confused with the Australian one) where she also worked, and she remembers a couple of pleasant young men who would always smile and say hello when they saw her.

This particular eclipse was visible from Devon and Cornwall, Cornwall being the big toe of England. Rock Star had not only invited all of his friends to stay, but allowed them to bring their friends too, who were invited to camp in his garden. Sadly the English weather had its way. The day before was glorious, but on the morning itself the clouds rolled in from the Atlantic and the eclipse was shrouded in green light. I viewed it from a hill top in Cornwall and it was nonetheless fantastic. Meanwhile my mum and co also had a great few days. There was a party, plus a talk on the eclipse phenomenom given by another member of this rock band, who'd majored in astrophysics at uni.

Rock Star had asked everyone camping in the grounds to leave by 3pm the day after the eclipse and was there to see them off. And he was as polite as ever. "Thank you for coming," he smiled. "Do come again." A few miles down the road, my little sister speculated how uncomfortable this man would feel if the four of them were to show up some three weeks later, laden with overnight bags. "Hi! We were just passing, and we remembered you said pop in."

My students, having learnt a fair amount of social English on their courses, realised that Rock Star had really meant to say I'm really glad you had a good time and it was no trouble having you camp here for a few days while all my real friends were here, but I don't expect we'll meet each other under the same circumstances again. And although indirectness can make for better social relations it can be a killer in business, which is why we teach foreign business people what they might hear when doing business with the Brits. By far the biggest complaint I hear on this subject is from Germans, who are constantly frustrated when they attempt business in the Far East. Japanese students, meanwhile, have reported feeling bulldozed when meeting Germans.

A question I asked Japanese and German students highlighted their feelings about direct versus indirect communication. I asked the Japanese ones to imagine seeing their best friend on the way to a big first date with someone they'd liked for a long time. What would they do if that friend was wearing an outfit that did nothing for them at all, or worse. Predictably they said they'd say nothing, some of them adding that it would be cruel to ruin their friend's evening by pointing out how awful they looked, although if they'd met with him or her beforehand they might guide them into picking the most flattering outfit. On the other hand the German student was amazed that anyone let their friend go on a date if he or she looked ridiculous. She would stop her friend, tell her she thought the outfit did absolutely nothing for her and get her to call the date and ask them to wait in a cafe for an extra twenty minutes while she took her friend shopping. To her, not being direct with her friend was being a bad friend. I can value the German woman's approach. Here directness went hand-in-hand with wanting the best for her friend, even if she was seeing the situation through her own yes, i.e., what she thought constituted a flattering outfit. But doing it is another matter.

The trouble is when you use ambiguity in language you set a precedent for others not to know where you're coming from and for insult to be taken when none was implied. I really should've told my friend that I wanted to give her the stained glass panel as a thank you for the work she'd done for me, but would understand if she'd prefer me to make her something else, leaving her to tell me what she'd like. It would've saved some hurt pride and allowed me to 'hear' the answer that I wanted and deal appropriately with any perceived negativity.