I was sitting in “Café Esplanad” in Helsinki, Finland. Drinking a cappuccino and eating a huge doughnut, it was a fantastic day. One of those days where the sun is shining and the city takes to the streets to enjoy the pleasures of walking, yet is still cold enough to drive hundreds of people into the local cafe’s and bars, to enjoy hot cups of tea and warm plates of whatever delights have been discovered in the harbor earlier in the morning.
Finland is one of these places that seems quite paradoxical. On one hand, it famously has the greatest education system in the world, and is constantly ranked in the very top of “standards of living” lists and “happiness indexes”. On the other hand, you would think the place is a walking abattoir; it is hard to find somewhere else where the people look so depressed. As I was sitting sipping on my Italian beverage and observing the premises from my table perched on a high platform by the staircase, I noticed how it was getting increasingly busy. It got to the point where people would enter the cafe and order their food and drinks immediately, without realising that there were in fact no available tables to bring their trays to and sit down. Eventually this led to the situation where depressed looking Finnish mothers and their families were standing in queues, awaiting for the slightest sign of movement from the guests, before jumping on the opportunity to snatch a table.
It was fun to observe. The anger in a woman’s face when she thought she had a table, yet discovered it was just a man standing up to bring his baby for a walk, was quite amusing. People become agitated in these situations, and eventually, the desire to sit in the warmth of a cafe to escape the breezy outdoors turns into the desire to beat everyone else in the race to secure a seat. This was when I noticed an Asian man, in the cafe by himself. He was standing behind the hordes of angry women with a tray, waiting patiently for a table. As the queue got larger, he must have realised that it was never possible to get a table for himself, as the number of small tables was vastly outnumbered by the number of larger family-sized tables. So he walked around the bar, effectively creating a new queue for himself, and somehow managed to cut in front of the main contingent.
I took a bite of my doughnut, wondering what he would do next. Suddenly, without warning, he swiftly moved into position, and expertly secured a position at a single table. Who was at this table before him? Nobody knows, yet this man seized the opportunity, and put his jacket on the back of the chair. The thing that caught my attention is something that really stood out in this cafe. There must have been over 100 people in this one room, yet what I noticed was the huge smile that appeared on this mans face as he sat down. Crows feet appeared by his eyes; his teeth gleamed in the air. But what surprised me was that this fantastic smile was not directed to the crowd. It was not intended for the public to see. He appeared to be smiling to himself, almost laughing at the satisfaction of getting a seat. It made me wonder, why exactly do we smile? It is obviously a natural thing, as everyone loves seeing a baby smile. But what is the purpose of it?
Physically, a smile is a simple thing. The zygomatic major muscle, located between the cheekbones and the corners of the mouth, and the orbicularis oculi muscle, located at the eye socket, are stimulated by the facial nerve. What does this result in? The corners of the mouth are pulled upwards, and the area around the eye socket contracts. Gleaming teeth and crows feet around the eyes. Exactly what the Asian man in the cafe had. This is a “genuine” smile. It’s called a Duchenne smile, named after the French physician Guillaume Duchenne. It is the smile that we as humans recognise as pure, genuine, positive emotion. Duchenne performed research on facial expressions using electric currents… of course, it was difficult to find volunteers for this procedure, and so this smile research was aptly performed on the decapitated victims of the French guillotine.
Everyone is familiar with the cliched air-hostess smile. Made famous by Pan American World Airlines, we have come to recognise this is a symbol of American “service with a smile”. The air hostesses do not (normally) present us with a genuine Duchenne smile. With the amount of botox they sport these days, it is probably impossible for them to perform a perfect Duchenne smile anyway. If their smile is therefore not genuine, why is it done? What is the purpose of imitating a natural human emotion? This leads me to believe that the feeling of their business leaders, the suits who decided that “service with a smile” is the way forward, is that a smile is an indicator to other people. A smile is a message. A way of communicating the idea that, “hey, I am not a threat to you”.
If this is the case, why did the Asian man in the cafe smile so genuinely? It was a perfect example of a Duchenne smile, it could not be any more evident. Yet he was smiling to the table, smiling to himself, smiling with his back turned to the majority of the observing population. Most psychological studies believe that a smile is indeed a method of social interaction. There have been theories covering everything, from signifying altruism and attraction, to extending life expectancy (See the 2010 Wayne State University research project examining baseball card photos of Major League players from 1952. From the smiles in the pictures, they could predict when each player died).
One theory “widely accepted” by biologists, is that in evolutionary theory, the smile developed from the “fear grin” of apes. When threatened by a predator, monkeys would clench their teeth to give the impression that they are harmless. Could it be possible that if we combine this theory with the social communication theories, we have a solution for the Asian man in the cafe? The tension of waiting in a queue, surrounded by competition. The prospect of getting a seat, only to have it taken by someone else. The cafe scenario could easily be looked at as any war scenario amongst our animal ancestors. The man may have had a primal instinct of fear. A fear that he consciously could not feel, yet deep down inside, it existed.
He finally got his seat. With the years of evolution that have resulted in smiles becoming a social messaging tool, combined with the “fear grin” of our ancient ancestors, there was only one thing he could do. Was it fear on the inside? Was it a naturally activated social display just in case someone was watching? Whatever the reason, he had to take off his coat, get prepared to sit down, and let his facial muscles do all the work. He had one thing to do, and that was to smile.