To Miss Manners' mystification, otherwise sensible people are still citing "lack of communication" as the source of all human strife and recommending "more open, honest communication" as the solution to our earthly trials.
As if we hadn't spent the past several decades listening to the entire population freely, honestly, easily, openly and spontaneously communicating its every twinge of ill temper. What do the promoters of ever-more communication imagine is being held back?Is it really something we want to hear?
Miss Manners, in contrast, is alarmed that information technology (for which she is grateful every day of her life) has inadvertently increased the public danger of being hit by barrages of uncharitable frankness. There are too many people with itchy fingers on the SEND key.
She shall have to put a restriction on the use of e-mail, even though she thinks it the best means of quick communication since the pony express. (Never did much care for the telephone.) New tools require new rules.
E-mail has the great advantage of not having to be fed, although Miss Manners has to give hers a reassuring pat now and then to get it going. But its speed has done away with the old built-in time lags in which to think the communication through, put it in more diplomatic terms, or decide that expressing it will create more trouble than satisfaction.
Here is her ruling:
No heavy emotions may be properly communicated through e-mail - not to acquaintances, and certainly not to strangers. Flaming, as it is called when vicious messages are unleashed on e-mail, is the written equivalent of shouting at passersby in the street and should be similarly ignored. E-mail attempts at achieving intimacy are the equivalent of an even worse kind of street remark and should be reported.
But even an e-mailer's intimates, who may be grateful to receive a reaffirmation of previously declared affection, or employees, who may not be grateful to receive measured criticism but at least are not surprised, must be protected from attacks lobbed at them through their own computers. Emotional bombs, including, but not limited to, "Will you marry me?" "I'm leaving," "I'm pregnant" or "You're fired" should not be dropped through the e-mail.
Miss Manners' anxiety arises from her recognition that otherwise polite human beings may occasionally go into a frenzy of anger or of love or a lethal mixture of the two. She is also aware that such passions are inevitably accompanied by the delusion that zinging pithy words will produce remorse, desire, guilt, romantic longing, shame, fear or determination to reform in the object of the message.
This unfortunate idea has been known to attack normally mild people and make them let out streams of sarcasm or unwarranted sentimentality. Neither has a high success rate.
Prudent people eventually learn this and, unable to control the outpouring of unattractive threats or pleas for pity, at least force themselves to let rash letters sit overnight to be reconsidered in the morning. The most fortunate are able to consult with trusted friends - who lock them in their rooms until the urge to make fools of themselves subsides.
Even the imprudent and the friendless used to have the advantage of an enforced waiting period. When it was necessary to dip the quill, powder the paper, and probably set the letter on fire while sealing it, making it necessary to start all over again; and when there was no use rushing off with the results because there would be a wait before the message would be picked up from post box or out box anyway, there was a natural cooling-off period.
Not enough of one, of course. A lot of communications still got through that eventually caused regret to their communicators, as well as to those on the receiving end. But now the message is no sooner thought than sent - and often to more people than intended. You can't burn a letter that's already out burning others.
The more emotional the content, the more cumbersome should be the means of conveying it. Highly emotional communications are best made in person, where the effect can be assessed and the message tempered to the reaction.
It is true that they may also be made effectively by letter, if great care is taken over the wording and choosing of paper and ink. Even typing a message in letter form on the computer takes some time to format and print on the right paper. With the unfortunate demise of the typewriter repair shop, Miss Manners can hardly think of putting a stop to that.
She can only intone solemnly: Think before you fax.
Dear Miss Manners: All my life, I have never been one for pomp and circumstance, i.e., graduation ceremonies, weddings, funerals. I am in no way a traditional person.
Now that I am getting married, I would be delighted just to let a justice of the peace marry us in his/her office and be done with it. I am compromising by having a few relatives and friends present.
Here's the problem - I thought we could send out announcements after the wedding, but my fiance says if we don't send invitations, we won't get any money that his family is famous for giving as gifts. As tacky as it sounds, how do you tell people about the wedding, not get them to come, and still get money?
Gentle Reader: How do you get Miss Manners to dress up a tacky idea so that it sounds socially presentable?
You can't.
She doesn't feel like it.
And don't think she's just sulking because you disdain tradition. It's your unwillingness to allow others to forgo tradition that bothers her. Miss Manners has never been one for the tradition of sending wedding presents to people who (quite aside from whether they make much of their weddings) can't be bothered with the senders.