Alexander McCall Smith, the Erosion of Civility, and the Quiet Grace of Bertie Pollock
Reading Alexander McCall Smith in the present day can evoke a strange mixture of comfort and deep foreboding. When one realizes that many of his observations on the erosion of social cohesion, courtesy, and grace were penned two decades ago—around 2005—it brings a haunting revelation: the decline of civility is not a sudden catastrophe of the present moment, but a long, slow decay. The small fractures McCall Smith noticed twenty years ago have widened into deep chasms across modern society.
Through his insightful characters—most notably Domenica Macdonald and the young Bertie Pollock—McCall Smith serves as a modern moral philosopher. In an era that often feels increasingly polarized, harsh, and cynical, his writing operates like a 21st-century Three Musketeers, replacing swords with courtesy, and duels with radical acts of gentleness.
The Destruction of Civility and the Loss of Social Glue
McCall Smith’s characters frequently reflect on the decline of everyday grace. As Domenica Macdonald observes, society has witnessed a gradual “destruction of civility”:
“20 years ago, people may have had their differences of opinion – of course they did, but did not abuse one another for it. They respected those with whom they disagreed. They spoke courteously. Oh, I know I should not romanticise the past, and I don’t, but at times it seems that the social glue that holds people together is weakened and brother is turned on brother so to speak. Friendship, families have broken because of polarization that has taken place.”
This loss of “social glue” manifests in a growing animosity that feels deliberately cultivated:
“We may pretend that it isn’t; we may deny it, but we know that there are more and more people who hate those whom they used not to hate. Some even encourage this hate, harbouring it within themselves and happy to see it flourish in breasts of others.”
McCall Smith traces part of this alienation to the dismantling of shared community identity. When local and national bonds of solidarity are dismantled in favor of an abstract, distant identity, individuals can end up feeling adrift:
“I sometimes wonder whether this isn’t because we started to dismantle nations. Nations gave people sense of common identity and encouraged concern for others – because of the community implicit in the idea of nation. We started to chip away at that in the name of a wider, transcendent identity but… Perhaps that hasn’t worked and as a result we’ve been cast adrift, our previous links and bonds dissolved or discredited, suspicious of one another, ready to distrust our neighbors.”
In this state of isolation, hatred becomes frighteningly easy to trigger:
“Hate is very easy to unleash. All you need is the Other. And then people will take over from you and do all the hating that needs to be done, all the belittling all the insulting and bullying… People loved to shame and humiliate others. The fact that you are so bad makes me feel a whole lot better about myself…”
Against this tendency toward hostility, Domenica reminds us of the quiet power of restraint and charity:
“Charity stops us giving voice to our thoughts. If I took exception to your appearance for some reason, I would not tell you what I was thinking. If you did something badly, charity might prevent me saying anything about your lack of skill.”
Reflecting on the Scottish cultural icon Hamish Henderson, the narrative laments how contemporary discourse has devolved into bitter conflict:
“Hamish Henderson: ‘let us not disfigure ourselves with hatred’. Hamish would be birling in his grave if only he could hear what people say to one another these days.”
Furthermore, the loss of lightness and humor marks our public life. As Domenica notes:
“It used to be possible to laugh, but now we live in such a humorless age. Now there are all sorts of censors and killjoys. Earnest, ignorant people who lecture us on what we can think and say. And we have lain down and submitted to the whole process. It’s been the remarkable display of passivity. With the result that when we encounter anybody who thinks independently or who does not echo the received wisdoms of the day we are astonished. In such a way is freedom of thought lost. By small cuts. By small acts of disapproval.”
Yet, McCall Smith insists that maintaining courtesy and respect is not naive vulnerability, but true strength:
“It’s not naive to be courteous and respectful of others, it’s the opposite. It is a wisdom, understanding and perspicacity.”
Culture, Upbringing, and the Duty of "Thinking of Others"
The struggle to maintain civility is also heavily shaped by cultural context. Growing up in Georgia, one is immersed in a culture that explicitly elevates honor, warmth, hospitality, and a deep-seated obligation to consider the feelings and needs of others. In such traditional communal cultures, kindness and generosity are active daily duties.
By contrast, living over 14 years in Finland reveals a very different social structure. While Finnish culture deeply values honesty, personal independence, equality, and respecting personal boundaries, it can sometimes feel reserved or emotionally distant to someone raised in a high-warmth, collectivist tradition. Where a Georgian upbringing teaches people to proactively step forward and nurture others, modern individualistic societies often teach people not to intrude.
The Silent Corridor: When Civility Feels "Too Hard"
The erosion of civility does not always look like loud aggression or open animosity; often, it manifests as a quiet, systemic withdrawal. Across everyday spaces—in schools, universities, hobbies, and shops—simply saying hello or acknowledging another human being has become surprisingly rare.
This reality becomes acutely clear in educational settings: even when a university professor explicitly encourages students to practice greeting one another in the hallway, that same instructor may still walk past students in total silence. When asked about this silence, a classmate admitted that saying “hello” was “mentally hard,” so she simply did not bother.
Yet the profound truth is that being polite, warm, and communicative is not inherently burdensome. In cultures where social connection is the norm, it would never even cross someone’s mind that saying hello could be considered a “mental strain.”
The ultimate lesson here is that neither model is the only possible way of existing, but rather a reflection of conditioning:whatever behavior we are raised with and accustomed to is what ultimately feels natural to us.
When greeting a colleague or classmate in a hallway requires “mental effort” and is discarded as a burden, society has turned inward. Where traditional cultures treat acknowledging others as a fundamental moral duty of warmth and honor, hyper-individualism recasts basic courtesy as an unnecessary expenditure of energy. The “social glue” that McCall Smith warns us about does not just break under the weight of active malice; it slowly dissolves under the weight of collective indifference. When a society stops actively raising children to “think about others,” the natural warmth of human connection inevitably cools into emotional detachment.
Bertie’s Moment – Pure Goodness as Radical Heroism
Nowhere is McCall Smith’s belief in grace clearer than in the scene where seven-year-old Bertie Pollock stands beside the King and Queen of Scotland.
While acting as a duty page during a royal procession, Bertie spots his school classmates Olive and Pansy standing behind a barrier in the crowd. Olive has been consistently bossy, mean, and terribly unkind to Bertie. Human nature, modern cynicism, or self-preservation might suggest ignoring her, or even taking satisfaction in standing high above an adversary in the presence of royalty.
Instead, McCall Smith writes:
“Bertie could have ignored Olive. He could have settled the score of years by simply not noticing her. But he did not do that. That was not who Bertie was. He raised a hand and waved. He smiled at the two girls. They basked in his attention. They grew in stature. They beamed with pleasure at the reflected glory.
Bertie had done what few boys would have done. He did it because he was composed of pure goodness — which is something that we all know, and it was a quality which, at that historic moment, was made clear to anybody who doubted it.”
Bertie does not wave to Olive and Pansy out of calculation, pride, or weakness. He waves because he is composed of pure goodness. His kindness is an overflowing state of being rather than a social transaction. In a world where acknowledging others in a corridor is discarded as “too hard,” Bertie proves that true courtesy is an active, courageous choice.
It preserves his inner freedom: By refusing to harbor bitterness, Bertie prevents Olive’s past unkindness from corrupting his heart.
It elevates those who do not deserve it: When Bertie waves, Olive and Pansy “grew in stature” and “beamed with pleasure at the reflected glory”. Kindness grants dignity even to those who have failed to offer it to others.
It offers light in a dark world: Bertie’s wave acts as a quiet rebellion against petty revenge, emotional withdrawal, and social division.
Conclusion: "One for All and All for One" in the 21st Century
Alexander McCall Smith stands out in contemporary literature because he dares to write about goodness without cynicism. In a world that often celebrates sharp retorts, public shaming, or safe emotional detachment, his stories champion the quiet chivalry of everyday life.
Like Alexandre Dumas’s Musketeers standing by their code of “one for all and all for one,” Bertie Pollock demonstrates a heroic commitment to courtesy. Being kind, considerate, and respectful—even when it feels “mentally hard” or culturally uncommon—is neither passive nor naive; it is a choice to keep human connection alive. In holding onto these values and daring to wave from the corridor, we protect the fragile social glue that binds us all together.