Will We Ever Handshake Again?

Photo: REUTERS
Photo: REUTERS
TT

Will We Ever Handshake Again?

Photo: REUTERS
Photo: REUTERS

The handshake has been through a lot.

Forged in antiquity, the preferred office greeting of the corporate era has survived the peace-sign-as-hello 1960s; the deal-clinching high-five 1990s; and the bro hug of the past decade (a manly-man micro-Heimlich ascending all the way from the playing fields to the Obama White House).

But will it survive the coronavirus? The short-term prospects do not look good.

“We’ve got to break that custom,” Dr. Anthony Fauci, the country’s top infectious disease specialist, said of the original glad-hand in April, “because as a matter of fact that is really one of the major ways you can transmit a respiratory-borne illness.”

Obituaries for the venerable business greeting began almost immediately, with Time, Wired, and BBC foretelling the hearty handshake’s inevitable doom. An international gesture of good will now seemed downright dangerous.

“The handshake traditionally was meant to show respect in business,” said Myka Meier, the founder of Beaumont Etiquette, a manners consultancy based in New York City. “But now, by extending your hand, you may actually be doing the opposite.”

Half a year into the lockdown era, however, it’s fair to ask: Is the handshake truly dead, or is it simply hibernating?

Sweeping predictions made at the height of any crisis often turn out to be unreliable (remember all the “death of irony” talk in the immediate wake of the Sept. 11 attacks?). And sweeping predictions made in the middle of an enduring global crisis with no clear end in sight are the epitome of hypothetical.

It’s worth noting that the handshake has endured at least since the days of “The Iliad,” when, scholars surmise, the gesture may have served as a demonstration of peace among the warlike — proof that they were not carrying, say, a dagger in their outstretched hand.

But the outlook for now is murky, particularly at a point in history where millions are working from home, and empty office districts are seemingly competing as sets for the next Hollywood zombie apocalypse film.

“Let’s face it,” wrote Thomas P. Farley, the etiquette guru behind the Ask Mister Manners column and a new podcast for pandemic era social mores called “What Manners Most,” in an email, “if the only individuals you are encountering in the course of your day are the members of your immediate household, your Yorkie and the occasional food-delivery person, chances are, you haven’t had much need to worry about a substitute for that millennia-old greeting.”

Even so, strangers at some point will have to encounter other strangers in a business context and in real life. Greetings will need to be exchanged.

And with that, will we return to the handshake or, having been scarred by the pandemic, something else altogether?

The briefly popular elbow bump, for example, which pops up, usually with maximum self-consciousness, in some business contexts, never feels quite right. It seems both stiffly formal and subtly aggressive at the same time, like a ritualized thrust-and-parry move from a children’s martial arts competition — not to mention epidemiologically suspect if we’re also being advised to cough and sneeze into our elbows.

Early on, the “footshake” — a gentle, mutual tap of the feet, like a soccer steal in slow motion — started popping up in international diplomatic circles. But it was hard to say if this absurd greeting was actually less or more ridiculous than Jimmy Kimmel’s knee-to-knee “Patella Hello” that the late-night host jokingly unveiled in March.

Those options exhausted, the search is on for socially acceptable stand-ins for the handshake that don’t look like silent-film slapstick. But where to find them?

We could look to Capitol Hill, where Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, for example, has championed a serene hand-over-heart motion. Studies have shown such a literally heartfelt gesture, familiar in Muslim cultures, can convey honesty, Mr. Farley said: “This body language is both warm and humble at the same time.”

Ms. Meier has instructed her clients to try alternatives she calls a “grasp-and-greet” (hands clasped at chest level, combined with a polite nod) and the “stop, drop and nod” (hands clutched behind one’s lower back, with a nod).

We could also look to a higher plane of consciousness.

At a recent networking event for entrepreneurs in Carlsbad, Calif., Elaine Swann, the founder of the Swann School of Protocol, a manners consultancy with offices around the country, noticed many mask-wearing attendees observing social-distancing protocols with a namaste. “The absence of the handshake can feel quite distant when interacting with one another,” Ms. Swann said. “The hands-in-front-of-the-heart gesture can convey connection and warmth toward the other individual.”

Or we could look to sports. The fist bump, reputedly popularized by a high-energy N.B.A. swingman of the 1970s named Fred Carter, has already become a common greeting in industries that skew young and cool: tech, entertainment, and, yes, sports, Ms. Swann said. The gesture may prove a useful half-step back toward the relative intimacy of the handshake, since it offers a hint of touch (and implicitly, trust), without actual finger-to-finger contact which might spread pathogens to the face.

It’s an open question whether these alternatives will serve as a temporary pandemic stopgap, like masks and jumbo bottles of hand sanitizer, or a permanent feature of the corporate landscape.

A lot of that depends on whether professionals returning to the office — presuming they do return — still find modern utility in this centuries-old greeting, or carry over the casualness of remote work and come to see the handshake as another 9-to-5 anachronism, like the embossed business card.

By one view, the old-school Don Draper bone-crusher already started to seem a little OK Boomer — even, by some arguments, sexist — in increasingly millennial professional circles.

Etiquette professionals interviewed said they believe the handshake will return at some point, in some form, though perhaps after an extended delay. But if this traditional greeting fails to survive the coronavirus, something important might be lost. Even in the most formal settings, a handshake involves touch, and even fleeting moments of physical contact (when welcome) bestow subtle psychological benefits, said Francis McGlone, a professor of neuroscience at Liverpool John Moores University in England, who has researched the effects of such contact.

“The benefits of a handshake are significant,” Professor McGlone said. “The nerve fibers of the skin that are activated by touch all have a cascade of effects. Touch lowers the heart rate, releases oxytocin” — the so-called love hormone — “which has a knock-on effect with dopamine, the pleasure neurotransmitter. This drives more social behaviors and lowers a stress marker called cortisol, which helps establish bonding and trust.”

Also? Anything is better than a wave through a Zoom screen.



Rescuers Dig for Survivors of Vanuatu Earthquake

A handout photo made available by the Vanuatu Police Force shows rescue teams conducting search and rescue operations following an earthquake in Port Vila, Vanuatu, 17 December 2024 (issued 18 December 2024). EPA/Vanuatu Police Force
A handout photo made available by the Vanuatu Police Force shows rescue teams conducting search and rescue operations following an earthquake in Port Vila, Vanuatu, 17 December 2024 (issued 18 December 2024). EPA/Vanuatu Police Force
TT

Rescuers Dig for Survivors of Vanuatu Earthquake

A handout photo made available by the Vanuatu Police Force shows rescue teams conducting search and rescue operations following an earthquake in Port Vila, Vanuatu, 17 December 2024 (issued 18 December 2024). EPA/Vanuatu Police Force
A handout photo made available by the Vanuatu Police Force shows rescue teams conducting search and rescue operations following an earthquake in Port Vila, Vanuatu, 17 December 2024 (issued 18 December 2024). EPA/Vanuatu Police Force

Vanuatu's capital was without water on Wednesday, a day after reservoirs were destroyed by a violent magnitude 7.3 earthquake that wrought havoc on the South Pacific island nation, with the number of people killed and injured expected to rise.
The government's disaster management office said early Wednesday that 14 deaths were confirmed, but hours later said nine had been verified by the main hospital. The number was “expected to increase" as people remained trapped in fallen buildings, a spokesperson said. About 200 have been treated for injuries, The Associated Press reported.
Frantic rescue efforts that began at flattened buildings after the quake hit early Tuesday afternoon continued 30 hours later, with dozens working in dust and heat with little water to seek those yelling for help inside. A few more survivors were extracted from the rubble of downtown buildings in Port Vila, also the country's largest city, while others remained trapped and some were found dead.
A near-total telecommunications collapse meant people struggled to confirm their relatives' safety. Some providers began to reestablish phone service but connections were patchy.
Internet service had not been restored because the submarine cable supplying it was damaged, the operator said.
The earthquake hit at a depth of 57 kilometers (35 miles) and was centered 30 kilometers (19 miles) west of the capital of Vanuatu, a group of 80 islands home to about 330,000 people. A tsunami warning was called off less than two hours after the quake, but dozens of large aftershocks continued to rattle the country.
The Asia-Pacific head of the International Federation of Red Cross, Katie Greenwood, speaking to The Associated Press from Fiji, said it was not clear how many people were still missing or killed.
“We have anecdotal information coming from people at the search and rescue site that are fairly confident that unfortunately those numbers will rise,” she said.
The capital’s main medical facility, Vila Central Hospital, was badly damaged and patients were moved to a military camp. Clement Chipokolo, Vanuatu country director at the Christian relief agency World Vision, said health care services, already strained before the quake, were overwhelmed.
No water in Port Vila While power was out in swathes of Port Vila, the biggest fear among aid agencies was the lack of water. Two large reservoirs serving the capital were totally decimated, the National Disaster Management Office said.
Resident Milroy Cainton said people were joining large queues to buy water in stores, but could only purchase two or four bottles at a time. “People are not really concerned about electricity, they're just concerned about water,” he said.
UNICEF was recording a rise in diarrhea among children, a sign that they had begun to drink tainted water, said the chief of the Vanuatu office, Eric Durpaire. Officials told residents of areas where water had been restored to boil it.