Why Do We Shake Hands? Somebody Was Checking for Weapons. Maybe.

I hate the two-handed handshake.

You know the one. Their right hand shakes yours, then their left hand comes in over the top and cups the whole thing like they’re trying to keep it warm.

Every time it happens, I feel like I’ve been pulled into some Illuminati secret handshake and nobody gave me the instructions. Am I supposed to add my other hand? Is this a four-hand shake now? Do we bring in somebody else? Six hands, all touching, one big germ cesspool?

I don’t know the rules. Nobody knows the rules.

Every one of us was taught how to shake hands by somebody who took it very seriously. Firm grip. Look ’em in the eye. Two pumps, not five. Nobody ever told us why we were doing it.

So I went looking. It turns out the handshake has been several completely different things, and the one we use now is the newest.

Version one: two kings make a deal

The oldest picture of a handshake anybody has found is carved in stone from ancient Assyria, about 2,800 years ago. It shows King Shalmaneser III clasping hands with the king of Babylon to seal an alliance.

Notice what it wasn’t. It wasn’t “nice to meet you.” It was a contract. Two of the most powerful men alive, agreeing not to destroy each other, and wanting it in stone where everybody could see.

Version two: the weapons check (allegedly)

This is the version everybody knows. Most people fight right-handed. Offer your empty right hand, and you’re proving you aren’t holding a blade. Some people add that the up-and-down shake was meant to knock loose any dagger hiding in a sleeve.

It’s a great story. It makes perfect sense.

And nobody can actually prove it.

Historians mostly file it under “popular theory.” It might be true. It might be something we decided after the fact because it explained a habit we already had. As a storyteller, I respect that. Sometimes the story becomes the reason.

Version three: the Quakers start a quiet rebellion

Here’s the part I didn’t expect.

In the 1600s, how you greeted somebody depended on who was more important. You bowed. You tipped your hat. You showed everybody exactly where you ranked.

The Quakers refused. They believed everybody stood equal before God, so they weren’t about to bow to anyone. Instead, they shook hands with everyone. Rich, poor, men, women. Same greeting for all of them.

People found it strange at first. Then it caught on. Historians credit them with a lot of why the handshake became an everyday greeting.

Think about that the next time you’re nervously shaking a hiring manager’s hand. The gesture you’re using to impress your future boss started as a way of saying nobody gets to be anybody’s boss.

How THAT became THIS

A treaty between kings. Then maybe a weapons check. Then a religious protest against social rank. Then the thing your uncle made you practice in the kitchen until you got the grip right.

Every Sunday at church, somebody on stage tells us to turn and greet the people around us, and the whole room starts shaking hands with strangers. That’s about as close to the original Quaker idea as it gets. Everybody equal. Everybody’s hands.

But if it were up to me, the Quakers would have just kept tipping their hats.

I’m a hat guy. I would gladly tip my hat to every single person I meet. It’s friendly. It’s polite. And it’s a whole lot more sanitary.

Plus, I’d never again have to walk out of the church restroom, stick out a wet hand, and explain to the person in front of me that it’s water, not pee. I washed. That’s why they’re wet.

Meanwhile, we’re both standing right outside the same bathroom, and your hands are completely dry.

So while we’re shaking, I’m smiling. And I’m also quietly judging you, because I am not convinced you washed yours.

More rabbit holes: If You’re From Texas, You Might Not Be From “The South” and Why a Signature Can Make Something Priceless (and a Crayon Can Ruin It).