Dublin ranks high on the 'Studied Blindness Index' but we've yet to catch up on rudeness
I MADE A TERRIBLE faux pas in London some years ago. Seated on the tube, my first day of a summer job, I saw an elderly woman standing by the doors. What I did next confirmed me as a bumpkin from unsophisticated Dublin. It was so bad, it jolted many of my fellow passengers from their state of studied blindness (something I couldn't have achieved if I'd dropped my trousers and belted out three verses of Danny Boy).
Yes, ashamed as I am to admit it, I offered my seat to the woman. Even now, almost 20 years later, I cringe.
It must be said in my defence, that I soon learned the art of Studied Blindness - doing Ireland proud for the rest of the summer by applying it (apart from a few weak moments).
It was a salutary lesson and one (I recently realised) that economists are making increasing use of. Two decades ago, one of these cheerful scientists discovered that economies and stock markets rise and fall with inconvenient swiftness and the best measure of a city's wealth and sophistication may be its Studied Blindness Index (or SBI).
A city scores highly on the SBI if its occupants "habitually put their own interests before those of others by feigning innocence or ignorance in an artful manner". And the good news from Ireland's perspective is that we've rocketed up the international league table since it was established in 1991.
Stopping your car on a yellow box to prevent other cars from turning, checking your texts in the cinema, failing to hit the Open Doors button in a lift as the doors close in someone's face - the astonishing breadth of ways in which a society can score on the SBI is the reason why economists have embraced it.
According to the Irish Government's recent SBI White Paper, "the fundamental principle is that one only scores when acting as if innocent . . . An acknowledgement of intent would amount to overt rudeness, resulting in a score reduction".
This is an important distinction, since Dublin is some way behind the likes of New York and Paris on the World Overt Rudeness Table (WORT), but way ahead of them on the SBI. As one commentator put it: "In the 1970s, it looked like WORT would become the indicator of choice for economists, but then SBI came along and closed the door in its face, so to speak. Overt rudeness is just not sophisticated. It can be stood up to. It can't eat its way into a society like an insidious cancer." In other words, Overt Rudeness recognises people as individuals (albeit annoying ones), whereas Studied Blindness does the opposite - hence its superior power.
All this may explain why I find myself walking the streets of Dublin (and, increasingly, the streets of other Irish towns and cities) in such high spirits. I don't understand the tut-tutting faces.
People bumping elbows not saying sorry is such an efficient saving of breath. And what a joy to enter shops and not be looked at when you're served. No excruciating comments about the weather - particularly if the assistant is embroiled in conversation with a colleague or glued to a mobile phone.
With all the recent talk of property slumps and economic slowdowns, it's cheering to know that Ireland's (and particularly Dublin's) SBI score will remain rock-solidly high, confirming us as a premier nation.
My wife was pregnant last year and used to have me chortling with tales of standing on the bus or being pushed aside on escalators. Last month, she really made me giggle with her tale of travelling on the Luas with our baby in a buggy. Having found the lifts to be broken at two consecutive stops, she ended up carrying the buggy filled with groceries - unaided - down the 30-odd steps.
If that didn't confirm to me how far we've come as a nation, a recent incident did the trick. I was in London, wheeling our baby through the bowels of Kings Cross Tube Station, when I came to a set of high steps.
I started arranging my bags over my shoulders in order to lift the buggy when a man stepped forward and offered to help.
As we reached the top, he announced: "I'll stay with you. There's six more steps beyond that corner." Ireland, Dublin, all our cities are still on the rise. But London, clearly, is going down the tubes.
AJ Healy is the author of Tommy Storm, a novel for readers aged 12 years and over, published by Quercus. See www.tommystorm.com