Imagine two cousins at a family gathering. The scene is fictional, but you may recognize the conversation.
“Did you hear she’s going back to college?”
“At fifty?”
“Apparently. She starts in the fall.”
“What is she trying to prove?”
Within thirty seconds, the cousins are discussing a woman’s motives, parenting, and ability to manage her time. Neither knows what she plans to study.
“She always needs something to make herself feel important.”
“Exactly. She can never just be satisfied. Not to mention, her son is about to head to college.”
Apparently, the family has room for only one student.
“You’d think she’d have enough on her plate.”
An aunt nearby puts down her teacup. “Did she tell you why she’s going back?”
“No. We were just talking.”
“Maybe you should ask her. I’d be interested to hear.”
One cousin looks down at her tea. The other straightens a napkin that was doing perfectly well.
“I suppose there could be all kinds of reasons.”
“Of course. Good for her.”
A moment ago, they had plenty to say. Now the tea requires their full attention.
I find it easy to notice the problem here. I have given myself the role of the aunt. Naturally, I am the thoughtful one asking the sensible question. But would I recognize myself as quickly if I were holding the napkin?
That is what interests me about gossip. We recognize it immediately when someone else is doing it. Our own conversations usually have a more respectable explanation. We are concerned. We are processing. We are “just saying.” Sometimes we really are seeking help. Sometimes I wonder how much work those little phrases are doing for us.
When I first thought about this, I wondered whether criticizing others comes from low self-esteem. Perhaps we make someone else smaller to feel a little bigger. Then I caught the problem: I was preparing to explain to everyone who gossips without asking any of them. I had barely left the family gathering.
Research offers more than one answer. Beersma and Van Kleef (2012) found several motives for gossip, including enjoyment, gathering and checking information, protecting others, and damaging someone’s reputation. There is more going on than a desire to be unkind. Sometimes we want a listener to help us understand. Sometimes, perhaps, we want the listener to say, “Exactly.”
What a satisfying word. No awkward questions. No request for evidence. Someone sees it our way. We arrived with an opinion and leave feeling as though we have a witness.
There may be a little companionship in it, too. Bosson and colleagues (2006) found that discovering a shared dislike could increase liking for another person. In their experiment, sharing a dislike brought people closer than sharing a positive opinion, but only when they did not feel strongly about those opinions. It does not explain every friendship. Still, it makes me wonder whether the cousins are partly enjoying finding each other agreeable. The absent woman has supplied the topic. The cousins get to enjoy agreeing.
And then there is the uncomfortable business of comparison. Someone goes back to college, runs a marathon, or finally writes the book. We were having a perfectly ordinary afternoon until their announcement reminded us of something we had put off.
Martinescu and colleagues (2014) studied people hearing gossip about others’ abilities. Hearing negative gossip was more useful for feeling better about their own abilities; positive gossip was more useful for seeing how they could improve. Someone else’s story can become a way of measuring ourselves.
Perhaps “What is she trying to prove?” is easier to say than “I wonder whether I could still do that.” Perhaps it has nothing to do with that. I want to leave the possibility open without appointing myself the family mind reader.
None of this means we should stop discussing people. We need advice when someone hurts us. We need to warn others about conduct that could harm them. But there is a difference between describing what someone did and deciding we know why. The cousins cross that distance so casually that neither seems to notice.
The aunt notices. Her question introduces the one person missing from their explanation: the woman herself.
That pause afterward might hold embarrassment, guilt, or a small wish to disappear behind the teacup. I like that the aunt does not deliver a speech. She leaves them a way back into curiosity.
I would like to remember her question before I become too pleased with someone’s agreement. Do I know this, or have we simply enjoyed saying it together?
The next time someone says, “Exactly,” perhaps I can pause before adding another observation. I might even ask a question. And if I suddenly find myself straightening a perfectly innocent napkin, I hope I will understand why.
Research behind the reflection
Beersma, B., & Van Kleef, G. A. (2012). Why people gossip. Journal of Applied Social Psychology, 42, 2640–2670. doi:10.1111/j.1559-1816.2012.00956.x
Bosson, J. K., et al. (2006). Interpersonal chemistry through negativity. Personal Relationships, 13, 135–150. doi:10.1111/j.1475-6811.2006.00109.x
Martinescu, E., Janssen, O., & Nijstad, B. A. (2014). Tell me the gossip. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 40, 1668–1680. doi:10.1177/0146167214554916
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