Gossip is a Drug

Yesterday I happened to overhear bits and pieces of a conversation among several people I know, like, and have always respected. I wasn't eavesdropping—in fact, I was "on the job," so to speak, and because I was on the job I didn't hang on every word—but these people didn't seem concerned about who might overhear them, and I picked up on a few words or phrases here and there; enough to get the gist.

The topic of conversation included situations I'm familiar with, and the tone and tenor of the conversation was sometimes condescending, often judgmental, generally snide, and just plain nasty...in short, it was gossip.

Like many drugs, gossip is intoxicating: it feeds the gossip's ego, it provides the illusion of an Olympian (god-like) point of view, and it's titillating—it feeds voyeuristic tendencies. Like many drugs, gossip is (psychologically) addictive: gossips become 'addicted' to the 'buzz.' And like many drugs, gossip is destructive: it's destructive of relationships, it's destructive of trust, it's destructive of character, it's destructive of integrity.

And like addicts who don't consider themselves addicts, gossips tend not to think of themselves as gossips  at all. "Everyone's entitled to an opinion" is part of the refrain, and "Don't I have a right to free speech?" And of course it's true that everyone's entitled to an opinion (even gossips), and everyone has a constitutionally protected right to free speech (even gossips).

This isn't about rights, but rather about what's right. Although I defend the free speech rights of neo-Nazis, I do not think them right, and I exercise my free speech rights in opposition to their arguments. Having a right doesn't make one right, and gossip is such a petty thing to stand on your rights for, destructive out of all proportion to its banality.

Gossip is a drug, destructive of lives and relationships, but too many gossips just can't stop.

And if there was a 12-step program for gossips, no one would go.