First Drafts - The Prospect magazine blog

Despite my underlying fear that much anthropology is simply bad poetry (”And then this happened; and then this happened; and then someone did this; and then I wondered whether…”) I occasionally find myself wishing I could draw on its analytical tools and insight better. Yesterday I was struck by one of our society’s most bizarre forms of micro-social exchange. I can’t say whether it is distinctly British or middle class (although it feels both), only that it needs unravelling.

I was sitting at a table in the British Library cafe reading a book (one of the nice alcove tables that everybody wants; I’ve almost witnessed Ballardian riots over who gets to sit at them) and somebody wandered over with a tray of food, and proceeded to sit at my table. On this occasion, I was high-minded enough to let it pass without violence. Once they’d sat down, I deliberately looked up from my book, they deliberately looked up from their tray, and we exchanged that specific form of rigid smile that has as little to do with smiling as possible. The eyes remain emotionless, but the corners of the mouth are raised mechanically, as if doing a split-second impression of the Joker in Batman. It is not a facial expression as such, but a transmitter of a chunk of information (them: “I’m just going to sit here and have my lunch”; me: “Don’t worry, I’m not going to deck you”).

Erving Goffman would refer to this as an act of re-framing or “keying.” You take some primary mode of interaction—unabridged happiness spilling over into a smile—draw a line around it, and then use it within some entirely foreign and more complex situation. Both parties know that this smile isn’t actually a smile, just as people having a play-fight both know that they’re not actually trying to hurt each other. It’s a mask that is used knowingly as a mask, and in case there is a risk of this being misunderstood, the eyes become almost excessively stern, just to confirm that there is no emotion at stake. If this smile needs to convey one thing above all else, it is (to paraphrase Rene Magritte) “this is not a smile.” (Note that this is not the same smile used when someone has held a door open for you. That smile, often accompanied by “thank you,” involves smiley eyes, and conveys genuine pleasure that the world contains people who hold doors open.)

Of all the human acts to re-frame and empty out, a smile! The first piece of specifically human communication between parent and child, re-framed as a tool for strangers to avoid talking to each other! It’s like buying a beautiful piece of sculpture and using it as a doorstop. There are so many other ways for strangers to acknowledge one another. So next time you try and share an alcove table in the British Library cafe, if the guy gets up without smiling and offers you a high-five, that’ll be me.