The four things I hate about generalisation

Bukhara, Uzbekistan

I recently read this provocative post from well known travel blogger Nomadic Matt, The Four Things I Hate about Europe. Not only did he manage to give a level of balance to his opinions on what annoys him about this continent, but he inspired a plethora of comments, some more sound than others, on the differences that people perceive between Europe and the US. Matt, I hope you don’t mind me paraphrasing your post title. Debates such as these are a real testament to the power of the internet in general and blogging in particular. Such global exchanges of views, and the education and hopefully increased tolerance that results, have been made easy by the advent of social media.

As I read the responders that argued passionately about the superiority of one culture over the other, I became increasingly frustrated at the need in all of us (myself included) to make sense of the world by forming generalisations. So many of the opinions made sweeping statements about populations of hundreds of millions of people based on two or three encounters. Yet we all do it. And, at the risk of falling into the same trap again myself, I wonder if that need to make sense, to have answers and opinions to the big questions, is a part of all cultures. I suspect it is; it is how that need is manifested that varies across the world.

Tash Rabat, Kyrgyzstan

In Matt’s post he wrote about how he missed American politeness when travelling. While his words were measured, those of many of the comments were less so, and spoke of the rudeness of the Europeans, the insincerity of the Americans, the coldness of the eastern Europeans… I could go on. These opinions are commonplace, and even within the UK they are prevalent: Londoners are rude/arrogant, northerners are more friendly, Welsh are ok but only if they’re from the south, Liverpudlians are on the edge of the law, east Anglians are inbred. Very few Brits will not have heard these stereotypes, and indeed many comedy sketch shows have been almost wholly based around these themes.

Living within a city or a community, we invariably learn that it is actually full of diversity. We have found extraordinary kindness in New York and London, alongside the expected rudeness and indifference. We have seen politeness in equal measure in eastern Europe, Asia, the US and Africa, albeit expressed differently. We have seen the UK stereotypes confirmed and contradicted within moments. Yes, some hard facts cannot be disputed (opening hours in Europe vs US or the number of fast food outlets in one country over the other) but the reasons behind even those facts are deep rooted and often more complex than they appear at first glance.

Malawi

So why do we feel compelled to draw conclusions about the behaviour or character of an entire continent from our own samples of a handful of encounters? What is it in us that drives us to form these generalisations, from which we predict others’ behaviour and in turn pre-determine our own interaction with people we meet for the first time?

On one level it may be the need for us to have a clear opinion that we can express. In western cultures the ability to articulate an opinion is an important asset in career progression or in social standing. It is relatively rare for the quiet contemplator to rise to the top of a major company. Charisma and influence are often considered to be primary traits for a leader, and these leaders are in turn expected to provide answers rather than ask questions of their followers. Where better to express knowledge and informed opinion than in the ‘ways of the world’.

Easter celebrations, Damascus

On another level we are more inclined to appreciate the diversity in that with which we are part of. For example many a British person will readily describe the differences between a Scot, a Geordie, a Welshman and a Cockney, while often happily describing the character of an Asian as if this was a homogenous group of people, despite the fact that the latter group will make up over a billion people. In the same way Brits and Americans are inclined to throw the entire continent of Europe or the whole Arab world into an amorphous mass, dismissing the cultural, historical and political differences that exist not only in each country but in each region, each town and each community.

This is the point where generalisation can, and often does, rapidly lead into discrimination; where by believing one group, whether defined by race, nationality, faith or any other single dimension, is uniform in its behaviour and beliefs, there is a natural reaction of treating that group in a particular way, and inevitably that treatment is not positive.

Travel exposes us to many challenges to our existing preconceptions. That is perhaps its greatest gift. By travelling more we might not get any more clarity on the answers to the big questions; we might just learn to keep enjoying that uncertainty.

A final word on stereotypes goes to Jacques Peretti who wrote about the origins of the Irish joke in the Guardian some years ago. A story from the British comedian Paul Merton always stuck in my mind:

“Paul Merton tells a story about the origins of the Irish joke. In England, he says, we tell jokes about the Irish, but in Ireland they tell jokes about the Kerryman. If you go to Kerry, however, they tell jokes about people who live in one particular road. And if you go to that road, they tell jokes about the people who live at number 46. At number 46 – you won’t be surprised to hear – they tell jokes about their dad, who, says Merton, can reliably be called the source of all Irish jokes.”