Is It Okay To Group Chat?

Have our phones made us harder on our friends?

As you might have heard, group chats have been quite the topic lately, and not merely because they are the manner of digital communication that got Pete Buttigieg to use the f-word in a Tweet. But I have to ask: am I the only one who found it surprising that of all the panic-inducing hypothetical scenarios that this administration could have possibly brought to life, it was this fairly low-grade (not to mention retro 21^st century) specimen that has created the greatest commotion thus far? You know the one: always act is if everything you write about [an entire nation] in an email text message could be printed on the Page 1 of the newspaper.

Of course, as non-newsmaking, private sector individuals, this early bit of internet wisdom is not and probably never was a real concern for you or me, though it’s still a warning that might have stuck with you from the days of your first work computer and email address. For Gen X, that was an era when possibly fictional, possibly true stories of unwitting workers getting busted for the accounts of illegal (or just reckless) activities they flung onto company servers while hungover or bored at their desks abounded. Of course, email is no longer just a tool of the office, and we now use our digital devices for such mundane transmissions (CVS telling me my uncle’s statin prescription is ready, Resy telling me I’m expected at dinner in 30 minutes) that unless we are cheating on our partners, the traffic is so abundant and boring that an audit would probably net as much real treasure as someone with a metal detector on a crowded beach.

The notable, almost certain exception? Our group chats. Even though Signal Gate was easy to register as a story about bravado and stupidity (because it was definitely that), didn’t it make you think – at least a little – who among us would not have some serious explaining to do if our texts with our closest (see also: funniest, wickedest) friends were revealed? On a scale of pretty nervous to “Siri, can you opt in to the Witness Protection Program?” how scandalized would you be if everyone whose names appeared in them got hold of a transcript? Maybe you routinely reach out to your bros, gays or galpals to comment on how great someone has been looking recently; I do this too, but use the following shorthand: “Facelift???” Or perhaps “DEF OZEMPIC.” If you are indeed the one who broadcast how happy an acquaintance seems or that they got a new job, I say good for you. But now tell me: how do these stack up against to the number of times you’ve texted about someone’s poor dating choices, overposting or terrible taste? “Just checking in to say I hope everyone has a great day,” said no chat ever (or not one I’ve ever heard of).

Nelson Muntz would probably love group chats.

We may not be discussing matters of national security – still a whole different level of “Oh Sh*t” – but that doesn’t mean your blood didn’t run cold the first (and hopefully only) time you texted some snippy comment ABOUT someone TO that person. Or wrote some not-very-nice reaction IN their Instagram story rather than to the person who sent it to you, maybe? (Instagram appears to have fixed this, but just in case, this is why you should always forward the story and then write the message in a separate text bubble – it protects you both!) Because there, I’ve admitted it: sometimes, I’m not very nice. I’m opinionated. I’m judgy. Even about people I (sort of) know. I see what you did and because I have a lot to say about it, I gotta let it out. Don’t we all?

Given how critical we have become as a society, perhaps our poisonous text threads are just chickens coming home to roost. From dragging influencers for the seemingly minor crimes of being “tone deaf” and “unrelatable” like it’s a job, booing JD Vance at the Kennedy Center (I mean, go on with your bad selves, good people of the District) and the Democrats whose primary complaint with the party is that they’re being too civil to Republicans, doesn’t it seem like we have gotten meaner in general? Sure, you can blame Trump for it – he truly has ushered in a Lead Age of Humanity, in my opinion; being a dick is really the only brand he has ever really launched or been able to sustain.

But here’s the thing: he’s hardly the only headline-making person of the last decade-plus whose behavior is appalling. In fact, back in the period when he was just a mostly failed business man playing a successful one on a top-rated show, his rudeness positively paled in comparison to some of his reality “star” contemporaries (the broadcast run of “The Apprentice” overlapped with some of the most in-your-face Real Housewives franchises, including BH, NY and OC (Why did Sarah eat the bow?) Of course, that was when we still regarded people’s excesses as articles of entertainment and fascination, not ways of life – or of ruling the world. The fact that these individuals were extreme and unstable was what made them so interesting; that they were so unlike actual real people was the point.

But become them we did. Just like kids used to mimic catchphrases from TV or emulate their cartoon heroes, I think we all started copying the main characters, whose downtime and expository scenes are mostly spent talking about other characters. And it was contagious: aside from the utterly wholesome WhatsApp group with my family and excluding the one with my two college friends that is mostly populated by videos of monkeys attacking tourists, I participate off and on in a few others that – how to put this? – are not exactly dedicated to “celebrating wins” (and I am in far fewer than some people I know, which sort of makes me glad — and sort of makes me feel like a loser). Maybe if I knew more about sports or watched more TV, I’d attract nicer people or have kinder things to say, but most of the times the phone starts blowing up (hate to break it to you all) it’s to talk a little-to-a-lot of trash; we don’t recap celebrity scandals or discuss people in the news, but rather the wack shit our friends and acquaintances are doing. Unsurprisingly, in a scaled-down version of what happens regularly in our larger digital spaces, what elicits the most attention and engagement amongst the members often reflects the very worst of ourselves – the shocking, the snarky and yes, the mean. I know very well that the quality of the gossip and takes I present prove my value to group “discussion” (and certainly produce feelings of validation). But lately I am conscious of how they mimic “contact” without the any of the benefits of actually hanging out, or supporting each other’s evolution beyond acknowledging which behaviors we find ridiculous or unacceptable.

I’ve shared my opinions on whether it’s okay to gossip before, and can say that I still totally buy the anthropologists’ assertion that it’s an ancient and ultimately productive practice because it helps us relay and reinforce group standards, values and mores. I also think there’s nothing wrong with venting: to love people does not mean that they don’t get on our nerves. But in a world that is increasingly fraught with disconnection-disguised-as-connection, I am trying to be more wary of mechanisms that seem to affirm enlightened my dearest and I are and how awful everyone else is. I recently heard the hosts of a relationship advice podcast I generally credit with pretty sound counsel proposing that the advice-seeker create a group specifically to bitch about all the people, places and things that drive them crazy, I wondered: is that reallythe answer? Does it really solve the problem? Certainly not as well as any of the old-fashioned ways of dealing with a problematic person: sitting down and having a talk with them, taking a break, or maybe even saying “fare thee well.” But I think the lack of friction or consequences borne by how easy our phones have made it to catalog other people’s faults has not only made us less accountable to their feelings, I think it’s also made us less invested in their improvement. Whether you’d be scandalized by the exposure of the meanest (or perhaps just most candid) thing you’ve even written about someone is not the crucial question – because the answer is of course you would; instead, it’s what would it take to for you to actually say to the person’s face: are you alright? Sure, radical honesty isn’t for everyone of course, but “none whatsoever” doesn’t sound like the right policy either.

So no, I don’t think we need to cut the saucy or piping hot discourse from our data plans. But in an age of information limned by increasingly more virtual contact than the in-person variety, we should remain conscious while that our perspective on the subjects we are constantly evaluating may soften us to our immediate audience, it may harden us to everyone else. Cataloging people’s deficits is certainly easier than having to accept them warts and all, flesh and bone – but it’s infinitely less rewarding in the long run.