Are snitch lines turning us into stoolies?

My porch has been taken over by giant ants.

They are black and shiny and very plump. And if you sit too long, more than a few will gladly scurry up your legs. I know... gross.

I am not an ant fan. In fact, I prefer furry feet and perky ears to little spindly legs and fluttering antennae. Except that yesterday, I noticed a few ants carrying dead ones. Some dragged smushed bodies along the wood, others did the job in pairs — each using their front legs to hoist the deceased onto their “shoulders,” carrying them home, I guessed. I felt a moment of warmth for these creepy crawlies, finding myself falling into a quiet admiration of nature: what a simplistic demonstration of love and nurturing, I thought.

Then I looked up the undertaking behaviour on the internet.

For ants, as well as termites and bees, disposing of their dead is an act of “preventative medicine,” according to National Geographic. Since dead bodies are considered a health risk to colonies, removing them ensures the health of the rest. In fact, for some types of ants, the queen ant — who usually hides away doing whatever queen ants do under the protection of her worker ants — does the dirty work, biting corpses into chunks and burying the pieces. Sounds so sinister.

Although I am fairly confident that the violence of pulling a fellow ant apart limb by limb isn't keeping the queen up at night, I can't help feeling a bit unsettled. There's something that stings of betrayal.

Last week, the City of Toronto updated its COVID-19 Non-Compliance page with information on how residents can “share concerns” about large gatherings, open businesses that shouldn't be and COVID-19-related price gouging. I am all for rule-following, especially in the spirit of nixing the spread of a disease that continues to kill people and has me on high alert each time I step out the door. But like the limbshredding queen ant, snitch lines feel a little, well, hateful, divisive and frankly, sad.

It's sad this is where we have landed in a pandemic that has brought us to our knees in so many ways. Financial security, healthcare capacity and mental health, to name just a few, are in shambles. Throwing COVID-19 rule-flouting neighbours and businesses under the bus as we struggle to keep our heads above water — financially and emotionally — seems a little wrong.

I'm not saying we should wish the nay-sayers and risk-takers well and look the other way — hey, I want all of this to be over just like the next guy. But I do worry what phone numbers and online forms that help us tattle on each other say about the state of our capacity for kindness, empathy and simply, compassion.

Last weekend, a family I know — two adults, and their adult daughter, who live together — were strolling in a nearby park eating ice cream. The dad put his arm around his daughter and a masked man leaned out of a moving car, fist raised, yelling, “F***ers! We are never going to be rid of COVID if you keep that up!” Could snitch lines be taking this display of presumptive ignoramus and giving it an official ear? After all, having an outlet that accommodates the airing of grievances holds a certain appeal, no?

It sure does, says the Canadian Civil Liberties Association (CCLA), which launched its own complaint line for people who have gotten tickets or fines for not complying with COVID rules.

In an interview with the Toronto Sun in April, Michael Bryant, head of the independent rights organization, called snitch lines “notoriously unreliable” and “bad government policy,” full of “neighbourhood vengeance,” and an “outlet for rage and anxiety.”

Though I think we can all agree that fire and brimstone anger is not isolated to snitch lines — between confrontations about mask-wearing and physical distancing — over-the-edge anger is becoming pretty commonplace. I'm with Bryant: there's rage bubbling up out there, and it's spilling out all over the place. Do snitch lines give it the time and space it doesn't need? Has ratting on your neighbour become the duty of a good citizen?

Maybe.

Early in the pandemic, 911 — 911!! — was flooded with complaints about social distancing violations. Some of the top beefs were from those eager to share information about someone collecting the Canadian Emergency Response Benefit (CERB) they thought didn't deserve it.

Come on, people. Even the Canada Revenue Agency (CRA) rolled its eyes: “We are asking Canadians not to report fellow Canadians who have applied for CERB,” said CRA spokesperson Etienne Biram.

In the ant world, it turns out that while some types are into dismemberment, there are also those known as “paramedic” ants. Instead of leaving wounded ants behind, they carry them home to heal. Now that's an intention I can get behind. To be carried when we can't go on and tucked away safely to heal. Sounds so nice.

And I'm pretty sure snitch lines have nothing to do with it.