Ideas@TheCentre
In someone else’s shoes
I’m sitting on the train reading. A young man sits down diagonally opposite me and puts his feet up on the seat next to mine. I look at his feet, then catch his eye. He doesn’t flinch.
Adopting as friendly and encouraging a tone as possible, I suggest he remove his feet from the seat. ‘Why?’ he asks. He sounds like an educated, middle-class lad, which comes as a bit of a relief. Hopefully, I won’t get stabbed or glassed.
I explain that shoes are dirty and those of us who wear a suit find it annoying having to sit where other people’s shoes have been.
‘But my shoes aren’t dirty,’ he replies.
I start to point out that he doesn’t know that, that he didn’t check before placing them on the seat, but it is a pointless line of argument.
‘I don’t want a confrontation,’ I told him. ‘And I can’t make you take your feet off the seat. I’ve simply requested that you do so. It’s up to you.’
He removed his feet. Ten minutes later we struck up a very agreeable conversation. He was a bright lad, and we ended up chatting amiably for the remainder of the journey. Arriving at our destination, he reflected on his earlier behaviour.
‘I still don’t think it makes any difference, putting your feet on a seat,’ he told me. ‘But I know it annoys some people, so I probably won’t do it in future.’
In one sense, I think he’s right. My concern about dirt was almost certainly exaggerated. I wouldn’t object if someone put a heavy bag on a seat, even if it had previously been placed on a dirty station platform. So why this objection to shoes? On reflection, I don’t think it’s about dirt as such. It’s about respect.
Do you remember that Iraqi journalist who threw his shoes at George Bush during a press conference? We were told that in the Middle East, throwing a shoe at someone is just about the most disrespectful thing you can do.
Presumably this is because shoes go on feet, and feet are in many cultures regarded with distaste. When emperors of old required their defeated enemies to kiss their feet, both parties knew this was the ultimate act of subjugation. The power of the New Testament story of Christ washing people’s feet before a meal lies in the recognition that the son of God was willing to perform this most of demeaning of tasks.
I suspect our own culture retains vestiges of this ancient symbolism. Putting your feet on a seat, at the same level as other passengers are sitting, is disrespectful. It sends out a message that says you are the most important person in the carriage and that nobody else really matters. That’s why it provokes such an intense reaction – why I am willing to risk a physical confrontation rather than suffer in silence.
Does it matter if you fail to show respect to others? I couldn’t give my young companion a compelling, practical reason why he should not put his feet on the seat next to me. I just knew he was breaking a rule that most people of my generation were brought up to observe, without thinking. Lots of these petty social rules get broken nowadays, and in many cases they probably rest on the flimsiest of rationales we would struggle to justify.
But of one thing I am sure. The more these seemingly trivial norms get disregarded, the more the fabric of our shared society unravels.
Professor Peter Saunders is a Senior Fellow at The Centre for Independent Studies.
