Politics of politeness played out on public transport

The bus stop was its usual mass of thronging people during the evening rush hour in downtown Beijing.

There were no orderly queues, just a jostling and a jockeying for position as everyone tried to second guess where their driver would pull up so they could be first in line to get on what would inevitably be an overcrowded public service vehicle.

With a stroke of good fortune, my colleague and I were well placed in the daily scramble and managed to squeeze between the sweating bodies of those already on board and find a place to stand, without causing too much damage to our fellow passengers or their belongings.

Then, as the bus driver pulled away with its cargo of humans squashed like sardines in a tin, a commanding female voice barked out in Putonghua what was clearly an order.

The bus conductor, who would have looked equally in charge on a battlefield during the most bloody of skirmishes, had spoken in a manner that brooked no dissent.

In response, two very attractive, demure young women rose from their seats, looked at us and gestured politely toward the places they had been sitting in what amounts to relative comfort in the capital's public transport system.

To my slight embarrassment - the roles would most likely have been reversed in my hometown in England without the need for direct instruction - I took the proffered seat. I had no desire to be the star in the drama I guessed (correctly) was about to unfold.

My colleague, less familiar with the mores of the city, politely declined.

The doughty conductor then turned to him and unleashed a volley of words that, in short, could only mean one thing: "Take the damn seat, you ignoramus."

Demure Young Lady Number Two also insisted he take the seat, albeit in a rather more demure fashion.

Again my colleague declined, looking decidedly embarrassed.

The three of them were now a welcome floorshow in the normally dull routine of going home for a captive audience of commuters as one bellowed, another gestured and the third continued to refuse, growing redder by the second.

Eventually, Demure Young Lady Number Two accepted defeat and resumed her seat, the conductor turned away with the sort of look a platoon commander reserves for his most disappointing recruit, our fellow travelers returned their gazes to whatever had previously occupied their attention, and my colleague's color gradually resumed its natural pallor.

What was the cause of this comedy of manners? The simple fact that my colleague and I both sport rather more gray hair than we would probably like! That, it seems, is the passport to seniority even though we are merely in our forties in a nation not unfamiliar with nonagenarians pulling the strings of power.

Whether we like being reminded of the remorseless march of time or not, the bus rules clearly state that certain seats are reserved for seniors, the pregnant and the infirm - and that includes us.

It was an intriguing episode in many ways because we had, within seconds, been transported from the anarchy of the bus stop to the rigidly regimented regime of the bus, where "polite" behavior can be enforced.

We had also encountered a cultural difference in how politeness is manifested.

From the Chinese perspective, our age and assumed consequent wisdom were being shown respect.

From our Western perspective, quite a big deal was being made out of the color of our hair and we were, in effect, having the fact that we were no longer in the first flush of youth rammed down our throats. We were made to feel we looked incapable of surviving a bus ride on our own two legs.

But there is also, I suppose, a less polarized take on the situation.

Behavioral scientists have noted that when people form queues they do so out of respect for each other.

As humans, we have learned that taking turns is a model that can be sustained indefinitely because it avoids the outbreak of disorder. It creates a harmonious society that is, ultimately, better for everyone.

Giving up a seat to someone who is older can be regarded as a sort of extended turn-taking: Demure Young Ladies Numbers One and Two will, naturally, age.

And when they begin sprouting the odd gray hair, they will also expect to be offered a seat on public transport.

The bus drama was a salutary lesson in learning to go with the flow.

But I'd still like to see queues at bus stops.

(China Daily 07/24/2009 page9)