Misanthrope’s Corner

EVERYONE of a certain age is familiar with the phrase “nice people.” Not just the words, but the tune; the myriad layers of meaning and innuendo, the trenchant pauses, vocal inflections, and quirked eyebrows that flesh it out. It’s our original code word and our only natural one, predating today’s awkward euphemisms by many decades, which is why you must be of a certain age to appreciate it.

The Cult of Nice People was the means by which Americans of an earlier time assessed the “civility” so avidly sought and interminably discussed by Americans of the present day. The niceness it involved bore no resemblance to the niceness of Nice Guys; still less to the spastic niceness of “compassion,” “sensitivity,” and “reaching out.” Based on what psychology calls “consciousness of kind,” it was a finicky, rejecting niceness activated by an early-warning system of mental bells and whistles that went off whenever the need to be judgmental arose.

About the Author

Florence King

Florence King was a contributing editor of National Review.

EVERYONE of a certain age is familiar with the phrase “nice people.” Not just the words, but the tune; the myriad layers of meaning and innuendo, the trenchant pauses, vocal inflections, and quirked eyebrows that flesh it out. It’s our original code word and our only natural one, predating today’s awkward euphemisms by many decades, which is why you must be of a certain age to appreciate it.

The Cult of Nice People was the means by which Americans of an earlier time assessed the “civility” so avidly sought and interminably discussed by Americans of the present day. The niceness it involved bore no resemblance to the niceness of Nice Guys; still less to the spastic niceness of “compassion,” “sensitivity,” and “reaching out.” Based on what psychology calls “consciousness of kind,” it was a finicky, rejecting niceness activated by an early-warning system of mental bells and whistles that went off whenever the need to be judgmental arose.