WITH the refugee crisis dominating the headlines, and the Labour leadership reaching its dramatic climax with Jeremy Corbyn’s victory, there is a lot to write about this week. But one news item in the Guardian caught my eye: one of the Queen’s personal representatives, Paul Sabapathy, has resigned in the wake of a furore caused by a leaked email.

Britain is full of archaic titles, and one of them is that of Her Majesty’s lord lieutenant. Originally, these officials represented the king or queen in each county, but now this is largely a ceremonial post, filled by establishment figures nominated by the prime minister. Mr Sabapathy, originally from Chennai, was lord lieutenant of the West Midlands, and during an Independence Day reception at the Pakistani consulate in Birmingham, became annoyed by a group of men who kept chatting during his speech.

In a leaked email, he expressed his irritation thus: “Pakistanis are lovely people but there is a lot of work to do to teach them basic common courtesy and civility. They talk to themselves and do not engage with the wider community. They are living in the UK, not Pakistan. Whilst they are rightly proud of their Pakistani culture they need to explain better and engage more with their non-Pakistani brothers and sisters if they want their children to succeed as British Pakistani citizens.”

After resigning his position, Mr Sabapathy issued a statement apologising “unreservedly and wholeheartedly for the offence I have caused the Pakistani community…” Despite the resignation and apology, a number of public figures have weighed in with criticism, no doubt in the spirit of political correctness. But is there an element of truth in Mr Sabapathy’s original suggestion about the need for Pakistanis in the UK to acquire “basic common courtesy and civility”?

Having spent part of every year in England for over a decade now, I can attest to the fact that among the educated middle class, at least, politeness has been elevated to an almost absurd level. If you bump into a stranger, chances are that he will apologise to you. And asking for something becomes an exercise in circumlocution: “I wonder if by any chance, when you have the time, I would be so grateful if you could kindly get me a glass of water.” And this is to a waiter in a restaurant. OK, perhaps I am exaggerating, but not by very much.

And queuing has been refined to a fine art. If there are two Brits at a counter, they will immediately form a line. At theatre bars during a break between acts, crowds immediately rush to quench their thirst. The staff tries to serve them as quickly as possible, but can’t always keep up. If they try to take an order from somebody who has pushed to the front, another person is bound to say: “Er, excuse me, but I think I was here before you.”

In fact, nothing is as embarrassing as to be accused of jumping the queue. All too often, foreigners, unaccustomed to waiting for service, especially if they think they were important back home, tend to elbow their way to the front, only to be reminded that in the UK, everybody waits for their turn. ‘Bloody foreigners” is a common epithet, although muttered under the breath.

I have often been asked by English friends why people from my part of the world don’t smile and say hello while walking past. In London and in the larger cities, everybody is too engrossed getting from Point A to Point B to bother, but in the countryside, these small courtesies are still observed. Often, waiting to cross the road, I have had the pleasant experience of drivers stopping their cars, and waving at me to cross. The normal response to this small act of kindness is to raise a hand in acknowledgement. All too often, foreigners neglect this and earn an angry glare from the driver.

I have often observed South Asians ordering shop staff and waiters at restaurants around in a manner considered rude in Britain. In this, I fear they simply transpose our desi attitudes towards servants to a society that places a lot of emphasis on human dignity, and deplores talking down to less fortunate people.

But there is also a lot of cultural misunderstanding that makes us seem impolite. For instance, most Muslim women do not shake hands with men, so if a Brit is unfamiliar with our customs and sticks his hand out when introduced to a Muslim woman, he will feel he is being snubbed when she does not reciprocate.

Other religious sensitivities can also cause offence. At times, when conservative Muslims are invited to British homes and offered something to eat, they have been known to decline out of fear that the utensil used to cook the dish might have also been used to prepare pork. But their host, unaware of this religious phobia, is understandably offended.

But to return to Mr Sabapathy’s complaint, it is a fact that we often chat away to neighbours during a speech or even a concert. In Karachi, I have often shushed people near me as they converse during music recitals. This would be unthinkable anywhere in the West.

Throwing litter is another point of friction between Brits and the many foreigners who live in their midst. When I am in areas populated largely by Indians, Pakistanis and Bangladeshis, I regret to report that the pavements are often full of plastic bags, cardboard cartons and pieces of paper. Here again, we have brought our lack of civic sense with us from South Asia. I am aware that Mr Sabapathy’s Indian origin will make his observation deeply offensive to many Pakistanis, but this should not obscure the truth.

Twitter: @irfan_husain

Published in Dawn, September 14th, 2015

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