Bring back courtesy
Joe Larson
Principles of Idiocracy
In a world filled with war, famine, mistrust, sin, prejudice, The Backstreet Boys and dentists, it's sometimes hard to know what to do. World leaders, peace activists, monks, priests, teachers, parents, revolutionaries and billions of other regular people have been trying to construct a solution for the world's problems since Eve made Adam eat the forbidden fruit, the idiots.
I suspect that if the two original members of the human race never ate that apple, we would never have even had to worry about this kind of stuff, but that is almost completely beside the point.
What is the point? The point is that the world is a pretty scary place which, when it rears its ugly head, has to make one wonder about just what the heck the solution is for all this hullabaloo.
Well my friends, I'm happy to report that my slightly less than 21-year-old mind has discovered a principle that could not only modify your lives, but the world as a whole. This principle could take the world from its stinky, greasy, unshaven, messy slumber and throw it into the bathroom only to emerge 15 minutes later as a clean, fantastic-smelling dynamo with bright white teeth shining through a million dollar smile. It could happen. All we have to do is use or utilize a little courtesy.
This principle dawned upon myself and my roommates last year when we were trying to watch television for extended periods of time without losing our seats if we had to get up and go to the bathroom or leave for some other reason (another cocktail, maybe?).
When I arrived at Notre Dame my freshmen year, I was jumped by the notion of "fives." This most annoying and frustrating institution involves a person leaving his or her seat and having to call "fives" in order to prevent his or her buddies, sitting there like vultures watching their friend die in the desert, rush to take the open and obviously better seat. Dismayed by this, because I always forgot to say "fives," I presented the idea that maybe everyone should just let the person have his seat back when he returned.
Apparently this was not an option. So we floundered for two years in the cut-throat world of "fives," until the courtesy principle appeared like Gabriel to the Virgin Mary before our eyes.
The arrival actually wasn't that much different from any other regularly obnoxious comment coming from the peanut gallery in the idiocracy. One particular member of the board came back to the living room and, finding his seat stolen, exclaimed, "How about a little courtesy?"
A phenomenon was born.
"You getting another cocktail? How about a little courtesy and grab me one, too?"
"You going to the store? How about a little courtesy and picking me up a Slurpee?"
"You going to class today? How about a little courtesy and going to mine, too?"
The idiocracy was transforming before our very eyes. This new-fangled principle of courtesy was great. If you did something for your buddy then the next time, he did something for you. If you needed something that someone could get without too much trouble, then your need was fulfilled. It was beautiful.
Now like anything, this principle can be carried too far. Sometimes requests are ill-advised and simply unfulfillable, but the overarching theme is definitely evident. Every so often, if you do something courteous for someone and they do something courteous for you, things are better. Small, annoying edges are taken off your daily routine. Your overall disposition is sunnier — ever so slightly, but sunnier nonetheless. Things are better — not that much better, but noticeably better.
Courtesy is something that our parents and teachers push on us from day one when we're little. Courtesy is one of the first things your kindergarten teacher told you about. When you didn't share the crayons with your classmates, she told you that you should. When you picked on your younger sibling or told on your older sibling, your parents told you that you shouldn't.
But somewhere during our development, the principle of courtesy was slowly forgotten and we were told it was more important to get better grades than the person next to us or to be aggressive and take what we could from the opposition. We are pushed to compete and propel ourselves to the highest level of personal output. We are told to win at all costs and to forget about the people we step on during our ascent to the coveted top.
Somewhere along the way we forgot about courtesy and grew up into self-possessed and irritable people. We become upset when courtesy is not extended to us yet we neglect to extend the same courtesy back to other people.
This world is chock full of anger, lies and a thirst for vengeance. Maybe the problem is the lack of courtesy. Perhaps implementing a little courtesy into our daily lives could help. Maybe it could change things. Ideas could be more respected, people more tolerant, paths less blocked.
If the world would just remember kindergarten when we all learned to treat others the way we want to treated, maybe things could work out better and we could all be a little bit happier. How hard is it to grab another cocktail for a fellow human if you are about to get one yourself, anyway? It may seem insignificant at the time, but maybe, just maybe, that could be the act that gets the ball rolling to a more satisfying universe. Or maybe it isn't, but how much skin off your nose is it to do it anyway?
Joe Larson is a senior English and History major. He urges you to acknowledge and embrace your role in the idiocracy, because whether you know it or not, you are included.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Wednesday, October 3, 2001
