Queue
|
Resources about Europe
|
Famously, British exasperation with the continental disregard for queues plays as low, jovial xenophobia, but this seems to give the sensation too little credit. Italians are excellent people. We should not suppose their attitude to resource allocation to be some weird moral shortcoming. This is the land of Cicero, Dante, and Montessori.
What if, instead, it comes from an incommensurate theory of distributive justice?
Italians can queue. They proved it during the pandemic: they just need a good reason.
Normally, they would say, they just don’t have one: wait patiently in a line for a ticket at an Italian train station, and you will be there a long time as locals arrive after you, ignore the line and crowd around the desk, shouting and waggling their fingers to attract the ticket dispenser’s attention which, greatly maddening the Anglo-Saxon sensibility, will routinely be given.
Any Brit will see this as a riotous dereliction of manners, patience, and common respect for your fellow man, aghast that such a liberty could be sought, and outraged when it is given.
None of this will move him any closer to the front of the line, however.
Theories of justice
Those of a philosophical bent or who read jurisprudence at university will know about the different theories of distributive justice. A polity must choose a principle by which it administers justice: There are several to choose from, and they are mutually incompatible: according to status, opportunity, merit, need, overall benefit in the community, and so on.
How this all relates to queueing
In embracing the queue, the Brit makes a strong utilitarian assumption and — as Utilitarians tend to — presumes it to be a universal value:
The first in time prevails.
This avoids arguments, undermines special pleading, and creates a predictable and level playing field for anyone who should desire a ticket.
Should a later arrival plead clemency against the tyranny of the queue, the first-in-time principle may be abrogated, exceptionally, but only by respectful negotiation, accompanied with the appropriate social rituals and red-faced embarrassment. Even then, one who yields to a latecomer risks infuriating everyone in the queue behind him. That is not your right to give.
But, pace the effective altruists, utilitarianism does not conquer everything. Pell-mell queuing as favoured around the Mediterranean embodies a different principle of distributive justice:
She who most needs it, or wants it, prevails.
After all, the prudent and punctual are not, Q.E.D., running late. It will not matter if they are interrupted: they will be loafing around for the next hour anyway. The disorganised shambles that crowds the teller risks missing his train. Who are we to judge why he is late? How are we to know? The Continental system, therefore, establishes who is most in need of service performatively. By making the most noise.
In Roma Termini, the squeakiest wheel gets oiled.
Yes, this does lead to a certain amount of unnecessary drama. But “unnecessary drama” is a singular charm of the Mediterranean. And this is where we misunderstanding Brits lose out: by silently fuming at the back of a long line of plainly disinterested people, you announce to the world your own disinterest: you speak in a lingua franca that your own needs are not pressing. A more theatrical fellow should indeed go first.