Have you ever met someone and thought, "He's not at all what I expected"?
It happens to me all the time, in large part because I work in an industry -- journalism -- where gossip is the air we breathe.
I form opinions about people I know, people I meet, people I wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley, and everyone else. And I often form those opinions based on the opinions of others, something called hearsay in a court of law, which objects to it.
Some religions also object to gossip, which creates a virtual person that is often unrelated to the real one, producing a discrepancy that damages all involved.
And it isn't just negative information that some religions outlaw; the prohibitions apply to gossip about the good stuff, too. If your enemy finds out from your friend that you just won the lottery, your friend could be unintentionally fanning the flames of resentment. And what if a thief overhears? Then the danger is more immediate and practical.
The ethical dilemmas multiply. What if the person sitting next to you learns that you're being fired before you know? How is he supposed to handle that information if he cares about you? And what if he doesn't?
To me, gossip is a little bit like looking over your shoulder to see where the competition is instead of focusing on the finish line. And it contains the same risk: You may fall flat on your face.
So, why do we gossip? I think we gossip sometimes to avoid the courage of our convictions. Attribution is absolution. If you can provide a source for your information, you've avoided responsibility and saved your neck, even if you don't say who your source is (many a journalist has proven this point from the discomfort of a jail cell).
Sometimes gossip is a way of sharing uncomfortable information. If Aunt Sophie, who is a nosy snoop, whispers in your ear, "Just between you and me, I think Jeremy's been hitting the bottle," she's avoiding a serious conversation. If Jeremy's teenage daughter says to you, "I'm afraid my dad's been drinking," she starts one.
Is he or isn't he? Sometimes we feel absolutely driven to know, as if it is our business. Let's pretend for a moment that Jeremy is an alcoholic, and that there are many layers to his life: A tortured soul, a tormented family, a drunken driving accident that kills another family's child. Who can tell his story, or even imagine it, without more than the tidbits gossip provides?
And is that all Jeremy is? No. Gossip simplifies.
Gossip allows us to make up our minds and move on to the next subject, without respecting the complexities of the people or situations involved. It denies the reality that the next bit of information we learn could change everything ("Oh, you mean Jeremy was just covering for his wife?!"), even though it often does.
There are many things I believe in, and fewer that I know to be true, but this is one: Gossip is a window into the soul of the speaker, but only clouds your vision of others.
This LifeFiles column originally appeared on about 70 TV station websites managed by Internet Broadcasting Systems.
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