When I was a young boy, I remember constantly being scolded over and over by my Father on how to be polite.  "Don't yell."  "Watch your mouth, dammit!"  Apparently, I was always saying or repeating something that made me either sound smart, or gave me instant attention. 

I had realized early on that being impolite, or downright rude--often makes people 1) not only remember your name, and 2) gives you a position of authority over certain people's feelings--but, that 3) they will forget what they were saying.  I didn't realize at the time that these three things are the only sense of power a rude, obnoxious child can really have.

Assuredly, the reasons behind my rudeness had little to do with whom I addressed the rudeness to.  It had alot to do, I found, with the fact that I really either didn't matter much, or, felt in myself a sense of looming insecurity. 

Insecurity was probably the motivation behind the first twelve or thirteen years of my formative years, sad to say.  Fear, timidity, self-doubt, and anxiety.  I knew somehow that I was always on the losing side, left out of the loop, on the wrong side of destiny.  So I worked with what tools I had.

But, luckily for me, wisdom finally knocked on my door, or rather--I accepted it as my teacher, and not a bit too soon.  All too soon, I came to learn that what I had misunderstood for sounding smart, was actually just being obnoxious or obtuse, and that being the center of attention can be achieved just as easily by a car-wreck as that of a brilliant performance.  It is easy to point out an obvious truth; easier still to manufacture a new one.  What is hard, is to understand the hidden truths, which actually do exist--and to skillfully wield them one after another, never showing your hand. 

It's that kind of realization where you realized "they were laughing at you, not with you." that makes you change from ad hominem rudeness and inference, to something that is more responsible and more admirable.  I then came to understand that I had actually always, almost as a rule, said or behaved in a way that communicated the exact opposite of my hopes, spoke to the worst parts of my nature, and actually affected my efforts with a negative result, in every instance. 

The people whom I lashed out at either never forgot, never forgave, or, worse even--found the easy task of slamming me back with the wisdom or strength which escaped both me and any possible comeback worthy of spouting.  This then made me forever forgettable.

Dad always said, "It doesn't hurt to be polite." And, "It is good exercise to be courteous."

Exercise indeed, especially when thrust in the face of grown people with no home training.

When we are polite, when we are "disarming"--we bring strength and admiration to our effort, to our argument--even against the most vociferous opponent, or most skeptical audience.  When we are polite, and never rude, people instantly relate to us, and respect us as people.  They feel insecure attacking a kind person, who commands respect.  Who says, 'Please" and "Thank You."

Points at a debate are not scored as at a boxing ring, nor at a home run derby.  The object is really a sense of promise, loyalty.  How loyalty is won--is done so in much the same way as through a musical performance, a fine restaurant, or a work of art--through both conscious and unconcious harmony.  Communion.

So our words, and their tone, is most important.  Especially when we have little else working for us. 

So I have often thought that when we are at our weakest, most open to attack--most vulnerable--simple politeness and courtesy works as a best defense, and a best offense as well.  It works the best on those who think the very worst of you.  If nothing else, at least one will have earned respect.

So whenever I overhear someone else being rude, uncourteous, impolite--I smile.  It is knowing not only the chasm from which such behavior surely takes its root, but also--the level of respect it is sure to communicate to a wise adversary or to an observant audience, and the likely odds of such persuasiveness.

سلام به دوستان

In America, for the past month my family and I have watched the images and sounds coming out of Iran.  We have stayed up nights to listen to the voice of the Supreme Leader, to see the outcome of vast seas of marchers determined to be heard in the streets of Tehran.  We have downloaded clandestinely filmed video of a night sky illuminated with the echoes of "Allah Akbar."

I am 31 years old.  Americans of my age have seen over the course of their lifetime many other images from Iran, filtered through the years by our own media and government.  Those images left a sense of fear and anxiety for our future relations, and were reinforced by the policies of our mutual governments as well, producing in the mind of the average American a biased and somewhat negative reaction.  However, in recent years, due to the focus of the American government on the Middle East, and to the failures of that government to produce positive change or dialogue towards that region, many Americans have reexamined their own attitudes.  They have questioned not only the motives of their own government officials, but of the policies which have stood in the way of dialogue and peace for too long in our lifetime.

When many Americans saw the developments immediately after the 1388 election in Iran, what arose in the mind's eye was their personal feelings of the American 2000 election, a wound has yet to heal.  Not just the idea of "what might have been." But the pulse of liberty and freedom squashed by power and injustice.  The voice of the people extinguished by tyranny.  A fraud on all of our people.

So we already had sided with those wronged Iranian men and women who took to the street.  It was tragically human. 

When we saw the image burned into our psyche of a young woman killed in the pinnicle of life, senseless, anguished, and so quickly evaporated and stolen--that of our Neda--I say "our," we knew this cause was worth fighting for, even to the last man, the last battle, the last voice.  Flags and borders matter little at such times, when humanity is threatened by injustice, and lives of innocents are in peril.

There is a frustration here in America; a frustration that we cannot do anything to help our brothers and sisters in Iran.  We can speak out.  We can exert pressure.  We can agitate our leaders to either intervene or open dialogue through channels.  But we, as citizens of the world, feel somewhat powerless, and do know our immunity here in our relative safety of America.

But we also know that we can do something.  We can affect the next generation of minds, of ordinary Americans, and Iranians.  We can communicate.  We can open dialogue.  We can establish lifelong, meaningful relations with Iran.  Through personal exchanges, conversations, and friendships across this vast ocean of space and injustice. 

We do identify with you, though we do not yet know you.  But let us each take the first step, to say that world peace and human rights is a matter of concern for all of us, even when it seems not to affect our daily lives.  It starts with us.

So to my American brothers and sisters, and to my Iranian ones--let us open our hearts and minds.  Let us be free of old attitudes, and open to learning the true nature of our perilous and beautiful humanity.  Let us be open to learning to be willing to correct and admit to our errors, and willing to be honest and courageous in our dialogue and friendship and mutual respect.  We cannot understand each other if we do not know each other.  We cannot be friends unless we speak openly to one another.  If our leaders fail us, let us lead them, and take the first step towards a better world.