Back in February, Paul Berger, whose blog is titled An Englishman In New York, was surprised at how ubiqituous the greeting "How are you?" seems in the Big Apple. To place the phrase into some sort of historical perspective, I linked to David Gelernter's wonderful City Journal retrospective from the mid-1990s of Manhattan mores on the cusp of World War II:

Nineteen thirty-nine lived in an " ought" culture. We inhabit more of a "want" culture, a desire-not-obligation culture. One of the most obvious and important consequences of the slow death between 1939 and today of American civic religion—the coherent, deeply held set of shared beliefs and ideas that bound Americans into one community—is the sweeping aside of its oughts.

The ought culture made itself felt in many ways. For example: 1939's daily experience was assembled to a far greater extent than ours out of countless small rituals—pieces of formulaic behavior that you enacted not because you feel like it, necessarily, but because it was expected of you. Because it is the proper thing, and you ought to do it.

A middle-class dinner or even breakfast of the 1930s might involve an entire family seated at table with the males in ties and the maid scurrying about. The ritual of each child's planting a breakfast kiss on seated mamma's cheek was sufficiently well known to have been included in movie scenes not evidently intended to be farcical. Hats have rules: a gentleman of course removes his when speaking to a lady on the street, removes it when a lady enters an elevator (unless the elevator is inside an office building or a store); replaces it when he steps off into the corridor. He lifts his hat as a gesture of politeness to strangers and lifts it more emphatically when he performs an outdoor informal (versus an indoor ceremonial) bow.

Nineteen thirty-nine's polite conversation is scripted and therefore ritualized to a much greater extent than ours is. "Under all possible circumstances, the reply to an introduction is 'How do you do?'" ("The taboo of taboos is 'Pleased to meet you.'") When the need arises, one says "I beg your pardon"—never, ever, "Pardon me," which is a barbarism. It goes without saying that first names are to be used only under the proper, restricted circumstances (never among strangers), and that "sir," "madam," or "miss" is an appropriate form of address.

As I wrote back then:

Read the rest of Gelernter's article--while many of the buildings in Manhattan remain the same, the ubiquitous "how are you" that Berger's encountering is one of the last remnants of an "ought" culture that, depending upon your perspective, is either long since passed, or in the latter stages of twilight.

If anything, the situation is even grimmer in modern England, as the great Theodore Dalrymple observes:

A problem arises, however, when all such rules, arbitrary as some of them might be, are eroded to the point of total informality. The culture of any society becomes graceless in the absence of all formality, a development that is peculiarly evident in my own country, Great Britain. Here, gracelessness has become, by a peculiar ideological inversion that has occurred in my lifetime, a manifestation of political virtue. My father’s view of the whole matter of manners has triumphed all but completely.

The argument goes something like this: formality is etiquette, and etiquette is a manifestation of an unjust, class-ridden, patriarchal society. The rejection of etiquette and the formality it entails is therefore a sign that one is on the side of the angels, that is to say, of the egalitarians. Modern egalitarians, at least in Britain, do not content themselves with the kind of abstract or formal equality before the law that allows any amount of difference in wealth, status, taste, and sensibility; they demand some progress towards equalization of everything, including manners.

Of course, egalitarians are just as attached as everyone else to their own material possessions and wealth and have no real intention of forgoing them by radical redistribution, at any rate, of their own money and possessions. The struggle for equality—of the actual rather than the formal kind—has therefore to be transferred to fields in which it will cost the egalitarian nothing, or nothing material and financial.

What better way to prove your egalitarian credentials than by adopting the supposedly free and easy, utterly informal manners of those at the bottom of the social scale? The freer and easier the better, for such informality demonstrates another quality beloved of, and praised by, intellectuals: a superiority to the dictates of convention. Thus you can never be quite informal or unconventional enough.

Carol Platt Liebau, from whom I found Dr. Dalymple's article, adds:

With that observation, Dr. Theodore Dalrymple skewers the dumbing down of etiquette in this country (and his own native Britain), associating it as something akin to a liberal disease. He also goes on to point out -- quite rightly -- that exquisite manners are certainly not a function of money. In fact, I was brought up to believe that good manners were nothing more than a matter of kindness: When in doubt, do the gracious thing, and chances are that it would be the "proper" thing. Manners are, in short, a set of rules by which civilized people can live together in harmony.

With the abandonment of any formality in dress, conversation and so much more, we are all the poorer. Many instinctively feel this -- it's one reason, I believe, for the popularity of Jane Austen novels and other similar materials . . .

Finally, for the Anglo response to Gelernter's look at Manhattan 67 years ago, Christy Davis has a somewhat similar look at England at the turn of the 20th century.

Update: Welcome City Journal readers! Please look around; I'm sure there's much here that you'll enjoy.