Gossip and the Continuing Evolution of a People

Sit in any small beauty salon and close your eyes. Even amidst the roaring hair dryers, the clicking medal scissors, and the rushing faucets, one sound constantly overcomes the others. In environments such as these, the chatter of voices sharing and gossiping about the week’s happenings is an expected and appreciated presence. This is especially prevalent in small communities like the strip of Pico Blvd from Fairfax just past Robertson. There, bits of news float through the air all day long, being edited and rewritten at every stop. This trait of our Jewish community had always been something I had thought of affectionately, remembering the Yentas Kibitzing after temple events as they kissed each other on the cheek. I used to imagine what I would have to share about my own children and family once my future life materialized. It seemed obvious that gossip was a beloved pastime of the Jewish community, which became the source of my shock when I discovered how little had be written about the subject.

Look up the history of gossip and the Jewish people at a local library, and you won’t find much. You will find several books on the subject of Lashon Hara or “the evil tongue” that warn against the dangers of malicious talk. Still, very little has been written that acknowledges the Jewish propensity toward gossip despite the fact that it is technically forbidden. Who are we kidding? Are Jewish philosophical thinkers and educators afraid that accepting the Jewish love of chitchat will somehow promote it? Is all the small talk shared between Jewish women truly a representation of their evil intent? There must be some way of understanding and appreciating this common form of Jewish communication that doesn’t simply brush it aside as a careless and lazy sin. There must be some reason and purpose behind Jewish gossip.

From an evolutionary standpoint, gossip is a natural phenomenon. It is a means of identifying ourselves as part of the same group. Such identification is important because our group is the formation that protects us from predators and other dangers. For the Jewish community, the exchange of gossip helps us to reestablish bonds with other members of our very small community. Robin Dunbar, in her book Grooming, Gossip, and the Evolution of Language, describes monkeys, one of our closest evolutionary relatives, and the way they chatter as they travel through the forest as a means of keeping the group together. That is exactly what gossip does for the Jewish community today. It gives us a reason to keep in contact with each other. According to Dunbar, apes spend a majority of their days grooming each other, which, beyond hygiene, acts as an expression of loyalty. At local salons, Jewish women entrust each other with their grooming requirements as small bits of business are shared, enforcing our tiny social milieu.

Of course the closeness of the Jewish community can feel claustrophobic at times, and it is natural that we sometimes feel the impulse to lash out at each other. In Dunbar’s book she says, “Social animals hang in perpetual balance between two forces: the centripetal forces, driven by fear of predation, which have produced the feelings of socialbleness that make us seek out company; and the centrifugal forces, generated by overcrowding, that send us scurrying for the sanity of a solitary life.” We are constantly being pulled in two directions, driven deep into our social circle for protection and intimacy, while we push back out for small breaths of privacy. If gossip is truly a natural instinct that also serves to remind Jewish people of our mutual bonds, then can it be all bad?

There is no question that hearsay can be detrimental, and sometimes devastatingly so. In an article by Rabbi Jill Hammer entitled, A Feminist Exploration of Traditional Teachings on Gossip, Hammer discusses how, “In some places in the world, a woman who loses her “good name” can lose her potential for marriage, her economic security, and even her life. There is no question that gossip, whether delivered with malicious intent or not, can destroy lives when it comes into conflict with socially and legally accepted behavior. Our culture is one based on communication, and with the speed of television and the Internet, the line between valid news and hearsay becomes smudged. The media convicted Martha Stewart long before her trial was completed. Later, she was exonerated by a second set of rumors and gossip that praised her for accepting her punishment. The public’s voracious appetite for the private business of others has made working in entertainment synonymous with an elimination of anonymity. Clearly, an awareness of our Jewish teachings on Lashon Hara is necessary to avoid becoming completely caught up in the race to know everything about everyone despite the possible consequences.

Rabbi Hammer suggests finding a way to merge the two traditions by allowing for our natural desire for communication with members of our community, while depending on the Torah to control the intent with which we pursue and share this information. Without learning to balance our social urges with our spiritual responsibilities, we will continue to deny our true nature as a people. The Jewish community is a social one. We care what is happening in our neighbors’ lives, and it benefits us to have that concern. Without it, we run the risk of pushing so far away from each other in the interest of privacy and isolation that we can no longer be considered a community. Our sense of being a community, and in many ways an enormous extended family, is what allows us to survive as a people.