“He’s a nice guy. So nice.” We hear this sort of thing often, and I personally find it to be the most meaningless statement one can make. What are we saying here? I have no idea, and it is exceedingly perplexing to me how often this empty phrase is used to describe people. I have used it myself, and often it is because I have nothing meaningful to say about a person. It is the personality equivalent of “how’s it going?” This phrase was once an inquiry about a person’s well being. Now it is a bizarre form of “hello.” What is going on with the English language here?

More to the point, why do we think saying that someone is nice represents a compliment? We all seem to think that being a nice person is a positive character trait. We like nice people. They are trustworthy and honest, and they are unlikely to treat you badly for their own purposes. We do not like being taken advantage of, and nice people don’t do this sort of thing. Using people for your own ends is regarded as a failure of ethical conduct, and nice people seem to be those who are unlikely to treat others this way.

It seems, then, that we like nice people because they treat us like human beings, rather than pawns in their game of personal advancement. As such, many of us aspire to be nice people. I know I do. And I think this quality is best captured by certain ethical standards, such as treating people as ends in themselves, being respectful of others, and respecting peoples’ autonomy. These are positive qualities that seem to capture what we are looking for when we describe someone as “nice.” But is it possible to be “too nice?”

Any nice person has certainly felt the sting of being taken advantage of. This is the risk that one always runs in being nice. A crafty jerk can always manipulate the nice person for their own benefit because they are not limited by any self-imposed ethical constraints on how they treat others. Jerks do what they want, without regard for who they harm. Their goal is to get ahead, and the nice person represents a perfect patsy for their egoistic strivings.

Thus, the nice person is compelled to be nice, but not too nice. This is something of an ethical issue, in that one is inclined to place limits on their accommodation of others, so as to avoid being harmed by one who is not so ethically motivated. This is frustrating for the nice person, who would prefer to live in a world where their niceness is revered, appreciated, and hopefully reciprocated. What a world we would live in if everyone was nice.

Sadly, not everyone is nice, and the nice person actually has a moral obligation to limit his or her own niceness. If one is indiscriminately nice, the ego-centered jerk can make undeserved strides toward their goal, which just pisses everyone off and facilitates a gross reduction in overall human kindness. People get upset when those who don’t play by the rules win the game, and it makes people less willing to be accommodating to others, even when it is justified. People become fearful of being taken advantage of, and the best defense is to never be nice to others. Thus, the nice person, if he truly wishes to live in a world of mostly nice people, must limit his own niceness as to avoid being used by others.

Knowledge and learning are funny things. Really funny. For example, what most young people know by the time they are in the sixth grade is equivalent to what some of the smartest people in the world knew two thousand years ago (depending on what part of the world you are looking at). A high school honors student today knows far more than most adults did during the American Revolution. Most of what we “know” is based on the notion that some of the ideas that other people have already figured out, are true. If we did not build off our predecessors, it’d be pretty tough to know much of anything. We rely on a wealth of assumptions that help us to build up our own knowledge base. But is everything we assume to be true really true?

I am not suggesting that you go out and test every theory that you have ever been taught, just to be sure. There is most likely something to the law of gravity, for example, and dropping a bunch of crap out your window won’t add anything to your own knowledge base, while it will piss off your neighbors a great deal. Not all assumptions are as harmless as this one, however, and it may be worth it to consider which ones you are taking for granted.

For example, most of us generally assume that “experts” know what they’re talking about. That’s why when I go to the doctor and he tells me “take these pills”, I take the pills. It seems reasonable to assume that doctors are in the business of helping people, and that following their advice is generally a good idea.

On the other hand, if you go to the doctor for some sort of cold or flu, chances are they have no idea what’s actually wrong with you, not specifically at least. They give you a bunch of generic advice like “get some rest” or “extra fluids” and then they write you a prescription for antibiotics. The purpose of this is threefold. First, you feel like they are really doing something and not just taking your money in exchange for advice that you could’ve gotten from your mom. Second, they are initiating a placebo effect. You take pills and, because you believe that the doctor knows what’s going on, you begin to recover. The pills aren’t doing anything, but your brain doesn’t know that. Finally, the doctor is covering his or her butt just in case you actually do have some terrible infection. Chances are it’s a virus, most colds are, but they avoid an angry phone call and a potential lawsuit.

This all seems relatively harmless. However, we now live in a world where a shocking number of formerly curable illnesses are “antibiotic resistant.” According to medical lore, this should never have happened. Penicillin, which now cures almost nothing, was touted as the ultimate weapon against tiny germs, but because doctors have so frivolously prescribed antibiotics, we now have a generation of super-germs to contend with. Our assumption that the doctors know what they’re doing has led us to highly unsatisfactory consequences.

For the record, I am not saying that you should stop taking antibiotics or avoid listening to your doctor. My point is that we make a lot of assumptions about all sorts of things that we think we know, and it’s a good idea to question those once in a while. If, for example, you resist the urge to blindly follow medical advice and ask for an explanation of your particular care regiment, you are then in a position to make better choices for yourself. You may still choose to take antibiotics, even though you probably don’t need them. But at least you know what you are really doing, rather than letting a bunch of unchallenged assumptions run the show.

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