Polite Lies and Unacceptable Honesty

Navigating phatic communication as an Autistic person.

Phatic communication—those empty words that trip effortlessly and annoyingly off the tongues of allistic people. A collection of set phrases that are supposed to form the building blocks of 'normal' social interaction. Unless you’re autistic. To us they’re just ridiculous.

“It’s a beautiful day!” — Oh wow, thanks for pointing that out. I never would have noticed. 

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" — A while since what? Lunch? Our last encounter in 2007?

"Been up to much lately?" — “Lately” meaning the “while” previously referred to? Would you like me to list my activities during this timeframe in chronological order?

"Time flies, doesn't it?" — Last I checked, time didn't have wings.

"Happy Friday!" — Because the day of the week dictates my emotional state?

"We should catch up soon!" — Should we? Will we? What are the logistics here?

"Crazy weather we're having, isn't it?" — Yes, the weather has displayed significant variations in temperature and precipitation lately. Would you like to discuss the meteorological factors contributing to this phenomenon?

"Safe travels!" — It’s kind but really, is there any other kind of travel one should aim for?

And the most baffling of all: “How are you?” It’s intended as a polite greeting, although how asking a question and not caring about the answer is considered polite is incomprehensible to me.  The whole exchange is empty and pointless. Even more ludicrous is the expected reply: “I’m fine thanks”. What if I’m not fine? What if some disaster is unfolding in my life and I’m barely holding it together?  

Well obviously I just have to lie.

Phatic exchanges are meant to build rapport or show politeness, but they serve no real functional purpose in conveying information. Where’s the logic in that? For someone wired to seek meaningful interactions and understand the world in a straightforward manner, it's like trying to read a book in a language we don't understand—we know it's significant to someone, somewhere, but it's entirely lost on us. As an undiagnosed autistic child I really struggled with this. There were so many social rules, and rules are generally a positive thing for autistic people. No ambiguity, we know exactly where we are with rules. But only if those rules are consistent and actually make sense. Change the rules—or make them inherently inconsistent, like phatic communication does—and you're basically asking us to navigate a maze while blindfolded. 

It's not just about misunderstanding the social cues; it’s about the crippling self-doubt that comes after. Did I respond correctly to my colleague's half-hearted "how are you?" Was I supposed to give a detailed account of my weekend when my friend casually asked? The reality is that the script changes depending on the relationship, the setting, even the mood of the other person—variables that we find difficult to read. And then we're the ones seen as 'awkward' or 'rude' when, in reality, we're just trying to play a game whose rules no one has properly explained to us.

“Lying is bad. You must always tell the truth.”

“Don’t say that! It’s rude and hurts people’s feelings!”

“But they asked me what I thought…”

“I can’t believe you said that, I’m so embarrassed!”

“But you told me to tell the truth”

“White lies are OK sometimes.” 

“How is a lie a colour, and how can I tell if I can’t see it?”

“When someone asks ‘how are you’, you say ‘I’m very well, thank you.’

“But what if I’m not feeling well?”

“You say ‘I’m very well, thank you.’

“But that’s not true!”

“That’s not the point. It’s what you say.”

“If I find out you’re lying there’ll be trouble!”

When I was about 12, my mum had a bad bout of flu—so bad that we mainly lived on cereal for a couple of weeks because she was completely wiped out. I was out one day and ran into a woman I recognised vaguely.  

“Hi Claire, how are you?”

“Fine thank you!”

“How’s your mum?”

“She’s fine!”

A simple exchange, no problem. I knew how to do this. On the bright side, “fine thanks” is a conversational dead end and allows for a swift escape. 

A few days later this person phoned and mum told her how ill she’d been. 

“Oh, Mandy, I had no idea! I would have brought food over, done some shopping for you. But I saw Claire and she said you were fine!”

Guess who was in trouble again?

I was sticking to the rules, the ones I was taught! Polite, empty, meaningless. Nobody wants to know how we really are! If I answer honestly it’s wrong and people will think I’m weird. But apparently this was different, because it was a friend. I could have told her Mum was unwell — I should have told her! How did I not know that?

This is how I learned that the rules changed depending on the relationships between people. It was a revelation, but also horrifying because I really didn’t understand relationships. Mum chatted in the street to everyone,  and the conversations were basically the same. Lots of words, very little substance. There were friends who visited, so I knew they were probably a bit more important, but I still got myself into trouble saying things I should have known (without ever being explicitly told) were not suitable things to share.

What I needed was a diagram explaining the levels of information suitable to share with particular categories of people. Everyone seemed to just get this, but I needed it in writing. If only I’d had my little robot friend, ChatGPT, back then:

Hello, I will do my best to assist you. As an AI language model, I do not have personal traits or characteristics like humans, but I can provide you with a diagram explaining the different levels of information suitable to share in conversation.

Here is the diagram, as you requested:

I wish I’d had friends like ChatGPT in school.

Of course, this varies wildly in different cultures. My partner Alex, who’s from Romania, says the rules are different there. Romanians are generally very sociable, friendly and open, and if you ask how they are they will tell you. In graphic detail, with total honesty. Asking Ce faci? often serves as an opening to a longer, more involved conversation rather than a simple exchange of pleasantries.

The Finnish  way of communicating is more autistic-friendly. Finns are known for their reserved and straightforward nature; they value authenticity and are typically direct in their communication but they also respect each other's privacy. Unless asked by someone close to you, "How are you?" can feel like an invasion of privacy, so if you’re asked it can be assumed they want to know. If things are not going well, it wouldn't be considered inappropriate to say so. 

My favourite greetings are the truly meaningful ones:

Namaste

We have a large Nepalese community where I live. I once worked with a really sweet man, Chhabi bai, who taught me the greeting with the Añjali Mudrā gesture—hands pressed together to the chest and a small bow. To add friendliness and respect, you can say Namaste diddi (older sister), dai (older brother), bai (younger brother), or bahini (younger sister). It literally means “I bow to you”, but the deeper meaning is “The divine in me bows to the divine in you.” It’s a gesture of respect, humility, and honouring the interconnectedness of all beings. I’ve exchanged Namastes with elderly Nepalese people I pass on my morning walk, and it feels like a genuine, meaningful connection is made.

Tashi Delek

The most common Tibetan greeting. Tashi means “auspiciousness” or “good fortune”, and Delek can be interpreted as “to come” or “to be with”. While difficult to translate directly, Tashi Delek can be interpreted as “auspicious blessings” or “may all good things come to you”. 

Sawubona

This is a greeting in the Zulu language that means “I see you”. Autistic people struggle with eye contact, so Sawubona feels like a perfect greeting for us: I may not be looking at you, but I’m not ignoring you—I see you, I acknowledge your existence. The reply is Yebo, Sawubona, which means “Yes, I see you too.

Kia Ora 

In the Māori language, Kia Ora is a greeting that means “be well” or “be healthy”. This greeting encapsulates the Māori philosophy that health is a community affair and is not just limited to individual well-being.

Anyoung Haseyo 

This Korean greeting can be translated as “Be at peace”. It reflects the Confucian emphasis on harmony and balance in relationships and is widely used in South Korea.

These greetings carry significant cultural, spiritual, and philosophical undertones, making them not just ways to say Hello but to connect in a deeper, more meaningful way. When compared to these, “How are you?” expecting nothing more than an insincere “fine, thanks”, feels even more empty. The words have been stripped of their meaning, now just a pointless banality.

Navigating phatic expressions is a minefield for autistic people, but social rules insist on them. I can't help but wonder what would happen if we all decided to drop them and just say what we mean.

What a beautifully autistic world that would be.