blog 02 // on gossip
Beginning to attend Stevenson as late as my Junior year has been rather elucidating for me thus far, especially in social terms, though I will admit, this may be more so a consequence of my previous repulsion to certain kinds of socialization. I have attended many schools (six in about as many years), and attempted to integrate into each social ecosystem, most often taking a rather inconspicuous role. Prior to Stevenson, mentions of me tended to be few and far between, and only from those particularly immediate to my social orbitals, and from such observations I concluded that if you lived your life without entanglement, people would not care about you, or at least, not notice you. I'll admit, I did do my share of rumor spreading (01), but I had thought that I was merely uniquely catty, or that there had actually been things about other people to discuss that made me prone to it. Now at a new school, with my newfound social sentience, one thing has become clear: society begets gossip. I am truly an unremarkable individual with unremarkable friends (actually, quite poor friends. I hope this reaches them. In fact, if you are reading this, please let one Mr. Oliver Alter Duhigg know.), I rarely attend social events, and I’ve even been described as “a special type of autistic hermit,” yet somehow, the trail of gossip never seems to lose my scent. Every so often, a critter of sorts will relay to me that so-and-so said something a little mean about me, or perhaps that people seem to believe I am somehow incredibly “bitchy”… Well, first, I am rather surprised that anyone has noticed anything about me, actually, but from where have they discovered this?? Not only am I the dearest angel of all, I am truly the furthest thing from “bitchy” (if you do not think this is true, you either don’t know me well enough or know me too well…)! But settling from all my outrage and shock, one feeling seemed to emerge with the sweetest potency– a rather flattering impression that I was important, seen, and most importantly, interesting enough to be the topic of conversation. And it is from this feeling that I now dissect the Truth of gossip, why we wish to engage in it, why it seems to subvert all our expectations of honesty, and perhaps most importantly, is it good?
In one way or another, it seems that we, socially, value truth. Many conflicting perspectives exist on the genealogy of the human proclivity for truth, with the evolutionary assertion that truth is a byproduct of survival, theists positing truth as an imbued quality that God has gifted us as guidance, and a secret third position that there simply exist truth-seeking faculties in our mind. Yet, the allure of gossip seems to expose a tension in that very instinct... gossip exists in a subsect of information dissemination between conversation and slander, characterized by secrecy and the exciting hum of… wrongdoing. Gossip seems both an act in itself that is distrustful and a topic that likewise skirts the edges of truth. By engaging in gossip, we further compound our worldviews around exchanged stories (stories, if I may include anecdotally, whose credibility seems to be bonded by one’s affection for such, a bond somehow stronger than one may have for suspicion towards the same information if obtained through other means) gained by hearsay and motivated by the social credit of inducing thrill. Thus, these falsities have somehow slipped by our fact-finding faculties and snugly fit themselves into our minds… while we are completely unaware and in fact itching for more of this delicious, privileged knowledge. In summary, we must keep several points in mind while we explore the implications of gossip: 1. We find gossip incredibly fun, yet somehow morally wrong. Despite my attempts to refrain from it, I seem to be drawn to it at every social gathering, and I notice the same for my peers (and even my teachers, which surprised me…). 2. The topics of gossip are often false, or greatly exaggerated. What we hear is often not what we reproduce, and a game of shoddy telephone is played. 3. We seem to hold information delegated from gossip highly. Due to our emotional investment in its truth (e.g. the privileged feeling of knowledge (02), or the dear time we shared with our friend exchanging that gossip) we are highly motivated to believe in its truth. 4. We think of ourselves and the subjects as far more interesting than we actually are. Even in a small population, gossip is endless, stories are stretched translucent, and our thirst is never quenched.
But why does gossip exist at all, why do we like it so much, and why do we seem to lie when we gossip (what I really mean is fool ourselves)? Although this exists within the domain of scientific inquiry, I will nonetheless speculate because I want to. It seems as though gossip shouldn’t exist solely to exchange information– surely, the value of truth should prevail under the scrutiny of evolution– so there must be some value in the gossip itself. I suspect that, then, to put my Darwinian hat on, it must be the social rapport and trust created by the gossiping itself. To discuss someone else and to warn one another against a common enemy greatly improves trust amongst a group (and I suppose this may also be the reason we can be highly trusting of such information, considering the social risk of the informant), and to discuss sexual partners (as we still do and enjoy now) can mean the difference between getting with a “bop” with countless “baby-mommas” who may not have the resources and attention to care for you and your child, and an exclusive, caring mate that will care for the offspring carrying that gossip-loving gene. It is likely that the thrill of gossiping and holding exclusive knowledge is an evolved advantage as a result of this. Generally speaking, things that we like instinctively are often things that are good for our survival. There is also clear incentive for hyperbole in a social context where information can create narratives that dictate sentiment. Not only is holding exclusive knowledge thrilling (for the same reason gossip may have evolved to be thrilling) (the more exclusive the knowledge is, the more thrilling it is, hence why we may be incentivized to exaggerate), we also sneak lies to leverage narratives in our favor.
All this discussion of what is? and why is? must hunger the reader into raising the question (03): should we gossip? I am tempted to condemn it, to declare that gossip erodes integrity, that it poisons communities from the inside out, but such moral absolutism feels naive. Gossip exposes a dissonance between the human pursuit of truth and the equally human need for intimacy. To gossip is to admit that we’re lonely in our knowledge, and that we need someone else to share the knowing. The very fact that we find this irresistible, to move secrets with whispers, is to confront the tension between duty and pleasure. To hold discussions of whatever crazy story we had gleaned elsewhere, even if it isn’t much more than some snide speculation thrown at whichever buxom or beefcake that danced their way into some rueful pleasure, is what makes us human. Gossip, in its petty cruelty and strange tenderness, reminds us that humanity was never born from purity, but from the messy, social art of trying to understand one another.
(01) I'm actually quite fondly reminiscing on some of the "trolling" I did and the damage it had caused, and my rather clever ways of slipping away from culpability-- a rather adept skill of mine, honed well by my spiteful hatred of boarding school administrators, despite what my disciplinary records may seem to indicate. I had gotten in trouble in my freshman year once for (what I’ll describe as) bantering with a peer of mine in a WeChat group, during which she sent a picture of herself flipping me off, to which I replied “that’ll be the only thing entering your vaginal cavity during your lifetime”. I was then reported and punished rather harshly. Some other “trolling” incidents include my conflict with my school’s Dean of Students, whom I had made some insensitive comments about on my Instagram story (an incident I do rather regret, as I had truly respected him dearly, at least on a personal level). I received quite a stern talking to as a result. I do believe I have moved on from that phase, but I hope my teenage spunk remains lively.
(02) JTB, lol, actually, this is a great moment to mention Gettier cases… I will keep it brief, but this guy Gettier essentially broke epistemology and the very popular framework for knowledge (knowledge is a a Justified True Belief, i.e. a man in a black box can know it is raining outside via his schizophrenia, but it is not justified in evidence, so even if it were raining, he does not have knowledge of it.), with a paper he scruffily put together detailing a few short thought experiments showing that someone can have a belief that is both true and justified, yet true only by coincidence. In one case, for instance, a man believes the person who will get the job has ten coins in his pocket—because his evidence points to another man who does. When he himself unexpectedly gets the job, and by chance also has ten coins, his belief turns out to be true but not really knowledge. It’s true by luck, not by reason.
(03) It does not beg the question. I really do not like it when people say this to mean “raise the question”, even if it has made its way into common practice, or if it is used in a clear context, because 1. It is an easy switch to make, while I do not foresee petītiō principiī catching on any time soon and 2. I instinctively assume “begging the question” means the fallacy it refers to and 3. I’m not even sure what it means in the casual sense.
blog 02 // on gossip
Beginning to attend Stevenson as late as my Junior year has been rather elucidating for me thus far, especially in social terms, though I will admit, this may be more so a consequence of my previous repulsion to certain kinds of socialization. I have attended many schools (six in about as many years), and attempted to integrate into each social ecosystem, most often taking a rather inconspicuous role. Prior to Stevenson, mentions of me tended to be few and far between, and only from those particularly immediate to my social orbitals, and from such observations I concluded that if you lived your life without entanglement, people would not care about you, or at least, not notice you. I'll admit, I did do my share of rumor spreading (01), but I had thought that I was merely uniquely catty, or that there had actually been things about other people to discuss that made me prone to it. Now at a new school, with my newfound social sentience, one thing has become clear: society begets gossip. I am truly an unremarkable individual with unremarkable friends (actually, quite poor friends. I hope this reaches them. In fact, if you are reading this, please let one Mr. Oliver Alter Duhigg know.), I rarely attend social events, and I’ve even been described as “a special type of autistic hermit,” yet somehow, the trail of gossip never seems to lose my scent. Every so often, a critter of sorts will relay to me that so-and-so said something a little mean about me, or perhaps that people seem to believe I am somehow incredibly “bitchy”… Well, first, I am rather surprised that anyone has noticed anything about me, actually, but from where have they discovered this?? Not only am I the dearest angel of all, I am truly the furthest thing from “bitchy” (if you do not think this is true, you either don’t know me well enough or know me too well…)! But settling from all my outrage and shock, one feeling seemed to emerge with the sweetest potency– a rather flattering impression that I was important, seen, and most importantly, interesting enough to be the topic of conversation. And it is from this feeling that I now dissect the Truth of gossip, why we wish to engage in it, why it seems to subvert all our expectations of honesty, and perhaps most importantly, is it good?
In one way or another, it seems that we, socially, value truth. Many conflicting perspectives exist on the genealogy of the human proclivity for truth, with the evolutionary assertion that truth is a byproduct of survival, theists positing truth as an imbued quality that God has gifted us as guidance, and a secret third position that there simply exist truth-seeking faculties in our mind. Yet, the allure of gossip seems to expose a tension in that very instinct... gossip exists in a subsect of information dissemination between conversation and slander, characterized by secrecy and the exciting hum of… wrongdoing. Gossip seems both an act in itself that is distrustful and a topic that likewise skirts the edges of truth. By engaging in gossip, we further compound our worldviews around exchanged stories (stories, if I may include anecdotally, whose credibility seems to be bonded by one’s affection for such, a bond somehow stronger than one may have for suspicion towards the same information if obtained through other means) gained by hearsay and motivated by the social credit of inducing thrill. Thus, these falsities have somehow slipped by our fact-finding faculties and snugly fit themselves into our minds… while we are completely unaware and in fact itching for more of this delicious, privileged knowledge. In summary, we must keep several points in mind while we explore the implications of gossip: 1. We find gossip incredibly fun, yet somehow morally wrong. Despite my attempts to refrain from it, I seem to be drawn to it at every social gathering, and I notice the same for my peers (and even my teachers, which surprised me…). 2. The topics of gossip are often false, or greatly exaggerated. What we hear is often not what we reproduce, and a game of shoddy telephone is played. 3. We seem to hold information delegated from gossip highly. Due to our emotional investment in its truth (e.g. the privileged feeling of knowledge (02), or the dear time we shared with our friend exchanging that gossip) we are highly motivated to believe in its truth. 4. We think of ourselves and the subjects as far more interesting than we actually are. Even in a small population, gossip is endless, stories are stretched translucent, and our thirst is never quenched.
But why does gossip exist at all, why do we like it so much, and why do we seem to lie when we gossip (what I really mean is fool ourselves)? Although this exists within the domain of scientific inquiry, I will nonetheless speculate because I want to. It seems as though gossip shouldn’t exist solely to exchange information– surely, the value of truth should prevail under the scrutiny of evolution– so there must be some value in the gossip itself. I suspect that, then, to put my Darwinian hat on, it must be the social rapport and trust created by the gossiping itself. To discuss someone else and to warn one another against a common enemy greatly improves trust amongst a group (and I suppose this may also be the reason we can be highly trusting of such information, considering the social risk of the informant), and to discuss sexual partners (as we still do and enjoy now) can mean the difference between getting with a “bop” with countless “baby-mommas” who may not have the resources and attention to care for you and your child, and an exclusive, caring mate that will care for the offspring carrying that gossip-loving gene. It is likely that the thrill of gossiping and holding exclusive knowledge is an evolved advantage as a result of this. Generally speaking, things that we like instinctively are often things that are good for our survival. There is also clear incentive for hyperbole in a social context where information can create narratives that dictate sentiment. Not only is holding exclusive knowledge thrilling (for the same reason gossip may have evolved to be thrilling) (the more exclusive the knowledge is, the more thrilling it is, hence why we may be incentivized to exaggerate), we also sneak lies to leverage narratives in our favor.
All this discussion of what is? and why is? must hunger the reader into raising the question (03): should we gossip? I am tempted to condemn it, to declare that gossip erodes integrity, that it poisons communities from the inside out, but such moral absolutism feels naive. Gossip exposes a dissonance between the human pursuit of truth and the equally human need for intimacy. To gossip is to admit that we’re lonely in our knowledge, and that we need someone else to share the knowing. The very fact that we find this irresistible, to move secrets with whispers, is to confront the tension between duty and pleasure. To hold discussions of whatever crazy story we had gleaned elsewhere, even if it isn’t much more than some snide speculation thrown at whichever buxom or beefcake that danced their way into some rueful pleasure, is what makes us human. Gossip, in its petty cruelty and strange tenderness, reminds us that humanity was never born from purity, but from the messy, social art of trying to understand one another.
(01) I'm actually quite fondly reminiscing on some of the "trolling" I did and the damage it had caused, and my rather clever ways of slipping away from culpability-- a rather adept skill of mine, honed well by my spiteful hatred of boarding school administrators, despite what my disciplinary records may seem to indicate. I had gotten in trouble in my freshman year once for (what I’ll describe as) bantering with a peer of mine in a WeChat group, during which she sent a picture of herself flipping me off, to which I replied “that’ll be the only thing entering your vaginal cavity during your lifetime”. I was then reported and punished rather harshly. Some other “trolling” incidents include my conflict with my school’s Dean of Students, whom I had made some insensitive comments about on my Instagram story (an incident I do rather regret, as I had truly respected him dearly, at least on a personal level). I received quite a stern talking to as a result. I do believe I have moved on from that phase, but I hope my teenage spunk remains lively.
(02) JTB, lol, actually, this is a great moment to mention Gettier cases… I will keep it brief, but this guy Gettier essentially broke epistemology and the very popular framework for knowledge (knowledge is a a Justified True Belief, i.e. a man in a black box can know it is raining outside via his schizophrenia, but it is not justified in evidence, so even if it were raining, he does not have knowledge of it.), with a paper he scruffily put together detailing a few short thought experiments showing that someone can have a belief that is both true and justified, yet true only by coincidence. In one case, for instance, a man believes the person who will get the job has ten coins in his pocket—because his evidence points to another man who does. When he himself unexpectedly gets the job, and by chance also has ten coins, his belief turns out to be true but not really knowledge. It’s true by luck, not by reason.
(03) It does not beg the question. I really do not like it when people say this to mean “raise the question”, even if it has made its way into common practice, or if it is used in a clear context, because 1. It is an easy switch to make, while I do not foresee petītiō principiī catching on any time soon and 2. I instinctively assume “begging the question” means the fallacy it refers to and 3. I’m not even sure what it means in the casual sense.