Rule #4

Beki Lantos
Nov 11
7 min read

George Washington’s fourth rule of civility reads:

In the presence of others sing not to yourself with a humming noise, nor drum with your fingers or feet.

Once again, Washington shows his uncanny ability to anticipate the future. Because if he were transported to our century - say, plopped into a Starbucks during the morning rush - he’d realize he wasn’t warning against the occasional tuneless hum; he was warning us about the entire genre of public self-entertainment.

Rule #4, in modern terms, is the polite way of saying:

”You are not the soundtrack. Please don’t audition for the role.”

But when I first read this rule, as with the previous ones, my immediate reaction was something along the lines of “Wow! How stingy. How rigid. Let people be themselves, George.”

It felt almost punitive - like etiquette for the sake of etiquette, the kind that scolds people for existing too loudly. And honestly, for a moment I rolled my eyes. (Respectfully. Historically. But still.)

But then, as with the first three rules, the more I sat with it, the more it made sense. Because it isn’t about singing. Or tapping. Or humming. Or any one behaviour.

It’s about presence.

It’s about self-control.

It’s about being aware that the world is a shared space, not a personal stage.

And suddenly, the “rigidity” didn’t feel rigid at all - it felt reasonable.

I mean, I hate it when I’m talking to someone and they’ve got one earphone in. Or worse, both. You’re pouring your heart out, and they look half tuned into Taylor Swift, half tuned into you, and entirely unaware of how disrespectful it feels.

Or when I’m speaking to a customer service rep and they never quite make eye contact because they’re listening to something else. Or when my own kids did it, and I felt my soul briefly leave my body.

And don’t get me started on sitting in a classroom trying to learn while classmates are whispering, finger-drumming, clicking pens, scrolling endlessly, or typing like they’re trying to break the sound barrier.

It’s infuriating.

It’s distracting.

And it pulls everyone else out of the room.

So, when I imagine these rules being taught to a generation, I can understand why they landed as cold, strict, or moralistic. Because the way they were presented often was:

Follow this or you’re rude.

Follow this or you’re uncivilized.

Follow this because this is what polite society demands.

No wonder so many people rebelled against them - myself included.

But maybe the issue wasn’t the rules.

Maybe it was the teaching.

What if, instead of presenting these as arbitrary etiquette standards, we had explained the real truth behind them?

That Rule #4 isn’t about banning, humming or tapping….

… It’s about mindfulness.

….It’s about noticing the atmosphere you create.

….It’s about cultivating self-control so you don’t splatter your inner chaos across the nearest table.

… it’s about being fully present with the humans in front of you.

Those reasons feel less rigid.

Less accusatory.

Less moralistic.

And their deeper meaning gives them a real, living value - something we can actually use, not just recite at fancy dinners.

Maybe the rules themselves weren’t the problem.

Maybe we just taught them as commandments instead of conversation.

As judgments instead of invitations.

As etiquette instead of empathy.

And that’s a shame, because there’s so much wisdom hiding in some of them - wisdom that has nothing to do with being proper and everything to do with being present.

So how does this rule go much deeper than the literal surface? Yes, it’s about noise. Yes, it’s about restraint. But underneath that, it’s also about presence, awareness, and the seductive temptation to disappear into our own world at the expense of the one we’re actually in.

Because whether we are aware of it or not, humming, tapping, drumming, fidgeting, muttering, or narrating our own experience like we’re in a documentary… affects the people around us. Washington wasn’t trying to ban self-expression; he was trying to preserve communal ease.

Let’s take a look at how it translates into the modern world - one cafe, one classroom, office, group chat, and check-out line at a time.

The Original Meaning: “Don’t Create Accidental Chaos”

In Washington’s era, sound was a bigger deal. Rooms were quieter. Public spaces weren’t filled with perpetual ambient noise. Humming or tapping wasn’t just mildly noticeable - it could derail the entire emotional atmosphere of the room.

Rule #4, then, was about not introducing unnecessary distractions. It was the 18th century version of silencing your phone before the movie starts.

But unlike today’s environment - buzzing with endless inputs - people then had to rely more heavily on each other for cues. A single person’s noise could fully change the tone of a gathering.

Washington wasn’t saying “don’t make noise.”

He was saying, “Remember that you exist among others.”

A theme which, if you’ve been following the series, you’ll notice is quietly - and sometimes loudly - woven through the first three rules.

Modern Translation: Please Don’t Turn Every Room Into Your Personal TikTok Reel

Let’s be honest… we’ve drifted a little.

Today, humming and drumming have been replaced by:

AirPods creating unintentional karaoke
People practicing their full comedy set into their phone mic at the grocery store
TikTok dances performed in public walkways
Loud FaceTime calls in restaurants
The table drummer (you know the one - the person who taps like they’re auditioning for Stomp)
The pen-clicker
The nail-tapper
The leg-bouncer who shakes the entire seating arrangement like a milk earthquake

Washington would have needed not one rule - he’d need a trilogy.

We don’t just express ourselves; sometimes we do it at people.

And more often than not, we don’t even realize it.

This rul isn’t about policing sound; it’s about self-awareness - that little internal voice that occasionally says:

”Hey, just checking - are we being cool, or are we being a lot?”

A whisper of awareness goes further than a symphony of self-expression.

What Humming and Drumming Really Represent

Here’s the deeper layer: when you hum or tap or drum or narrate your own life out loud, it often isn’t because you’re trying to entertain the masses. Most of the time, it’s a coping mechanism.

People hum when:

they’re anxious
they’re bored
they’re overwhelmed
they’re overstimulated
they’re dissociating
or they’re trying to distract themselves from internal noise

People tap when:

they’re restless
they’re unfocused
they’re stressed
they need sensory grounding

People talk to themselves when:

they’re trying to regulate
trying to process
or trying to figure out what they feel

In other words, humming and drumming are often signs that your mind has left the present moment, and is seeking comfort or structure somewhere else.

There’s nothing wrong with that - unless you do it in a way that pulls others out of their present moment too.

The rule, then, isn’t “don’t do it.”

It’s “don’t do it to other people.”

The Social Ripple Effect

We often assume our small habits don’t matter.

They do.

That tiny finger drum you’re doing?

To you, it’s nothing.

To the person beside you, it’s the soundtrack to their rising blood pressure.

Your humming?

A soothing way to pass the time.

To someone else, it’s an alarm clock they can’t turn off.

Your foot tapping?

Unconscious.

To the person sitting across from you, it’s a mild anxiety quake.

Civility means understanding that your internal process affects someone else’s external environment.

We are porous creatures.

We absorb each other.

And quiet self-awareness is often the difference between peaceful coexistence and silent rage.

The Unintentional Main Character Syndrome

Let’s just say it plainly:

Sometimes we behave as if the room is our stage, and everyone else is merely supporting cast.

Washington’s rule calls out the modern phenomenon of Main Character Energy - before main characters existed.

Self-expressive noise often falls into one of two categories.

The “I forgot you existed” noise.

This is the accidental kind.

You’re focused. You’re overwhelmed. You’re bored.

You hum. You drum. You jiggle your leg like you’re trying to shake free from your mortal form.

You don’t mean anything by it. You just don’t realize it’s happening.

The “I hope you’re watching” noise.

This one is more…curated.

The person singing so loudly on the bus that you wonder if they’re practicing for a record deal.

The gym guy who grunts like he’s giving birth to a piano.

The woman in aisle 5 on a speakerphone call so loud you now know her cousin’s boyfriend’s court date.

This is self-expression disguised as social participation.

Washington would have called it “affrighting.”

We call it “please stop.”

The Anxiety Connection: When Noise is a Survival Mechanism

Here’s where it gets compassionate.

Many people hum, tap, or make small noises because silence is uncomfortable. Stillness is uncomfortable. Being alone with ourselves is uncomfortable.

This rule isn’t demanding shame.

It’s inviting awareness.

You can hum.

You can tap.

You can talk to yourself.

Just not in a way that makes others feel like unwilling extras in your coping strategy.

This is not about perfection.

It’s about presence.

When Humming Turns Into Hogging Space

Noise isn’t always literal.

Sometimes “humming” shows up as:

dominating conversations
interrupting
narrating your entire life in real-time
over-explaining
“performing” your personality
chronic “look at me” storytelling
emotional monologues that pull attention and energy

Washington’s rule covers these too.

Because humming is any behaviour in which your internal overflow spills out and fills the room.

Not because you’re inconsiderate, but because you’re unanchored.

How to Practice Rule #4 Today

Here are a few gentle prompts that help restore balance:

Is this habit soothing me at the cost of someone else’s space?
Am I in my body, aware of the room, or am I zoning out?
Is this moment mine alone, or are we sharing it?
Is what I’m doing involuntary, or just unexamined?
Am I present enough to choose my impact?

These questions aren’t for shaming - they’re for grounding.

A Little Humour: Washington, the Accidental Introvert

I like to imagine George Washington at a modern coworking space:

someone tapping a pen: “My dear sir, cease your percussion.”
someone loudly humming along to their AirPods: “Madam, your internal concert is now public.”
someone drumming on the tabletop: “You are not in battle. Please put down the invisible drums.”

He’d last 12 minutes before fleeing into the woods.

And honestly?

Some days I would too.

Closing Thought: Presence is a Gift, Not a Performance

Rule #4, in its essence, says:

Be mindful of the atmosphere you create.

Not because self-expression is wrong, but because connection matters more.

Noise, literal or emotional, can be a way of disconnecting - from the room, from others, from ourselves.

Civility invites us back into the moment.

It says:

”Come join the world - not as the star, not as the soundtrack, but as part of the ensemble.”

And honestly?