Feel a petty rant coming on? Just vent to yourself

Ithink you should have to earn a licence to use Twitter. Remember how in school you used to have to achieve your pen licence before you could graduate from immature pencils to the adult grandeur of writing in pen? Well, given Judith Collins’ actions this week I think we need a similar policy for social media. Something that determines whether the person can a) read something for long enough to determine whether it’s real or not, and b) not be needlessly nasty. Something that would stop her re-tweeting fake news and bizarrely bitchy commentary on first-home buyers.

In fairness, it’s not just Judith who gets snarky on social media. Her snideness is the perfect symbol of the age of casual online nastiness that we’re living in. She managed to perfectly demonstrate the two grubbiest sides of ourselves that social media highlights. Firstly, being outraged over something you haven’t read into enough. (She had a go at a couple who secured one of the first KiwiBuild homes for being jet-setters, when really their Instagram reference to ‘‘204’’ countries was about the likelihood of finding your soulmate.) And secondly, indulging in being a casual digital dick (which is what she’s ended up looking like).

There were plenty of ways to ask a question about whether KiwiBuild’s programme is directed at middle-income earners without dragging in the couple’s Instagram as ‘proof’ they were taking too many holidays to be worthy of buying a house.

But it’s ultimately not surprising. It’s disappointing that a middle-aged MP doesn’t know better. But it’s not surprising as ever since Myspace materialised in 2003, it’s become increasingly more OK to be casually nasty to people online. Suddenly, with the advent of 140 characters, it became socially acceptable to rip the s... out of strangers in the FB comments, to rant at randoms on Twitter and to send snide DMs to strangers on Instagram.

And we’re not even just talking about the intense flood of rape and death threats coming from the troll caves. Now it’s perfectly fine for your mum to comment ‘‘what a slut’’ on a photo of a celeb in a short dress. Suddenly it’s OK to splash around snideness, and you know that it’s become mainstream behaviour when middle-aged MPs are jumping on it.

But the problem with this isn’t just that we’ve normalised rudeness. It’s the fact we’re breaking the rules of bitching, and that has nasty consequences. The rule about bitching is that while everyone does it, you need to do it privately. It’s a bonding ritual to get together and whinge about how Karen from Finance leaves her lunches in the work fridge long enough for them to turn radioactive. Now, Karen’s forgotten spag bol may not make you apoplectically furious. But you join in anyway because it’s bonding, not to mention it’s therapeutic to vent tiny frustrations. It’s a cathartic release that allows us to move on with our working day without stabbing Karen in the eye with a fungus-y fork.

But the point is you do it privately when Karen’s not there. Partly because you might be too chicken to bring it up in person. But mostly because we all know how the game is played; we know that everyone bitches about us and we bitch about them. But we do it on the shared understanding that it’s a little harmless private venting which is kept to yourself out of respect for the other person’s feelings. You don’t bitch openly about the lunches, and Karen doesn’t bitch publicly about your enthusiasm for reply-all emailing, because you both know how nasty it is to be publicly shamed.

We also often get a subconscious, sneaky feeling that we’re being a bit petty when we bitch. We know deep down that we’re indulging the very worst side of ourselves, the side that’s still a grumpy high school kid who should know better. Is Karen’s sporous spaghetti on your desk? Is it bullying your kids? Is it giving you TB? No.

Part of keeping it private is that it helps us selfregulate the bitchy side of ourselves. The fact that it is not publicly acceptable serves to remind you there’s something wrong with your behaviour. It helps you stay conscious of the fact that you really don’t need to encourage your inner whinge.

But the age of digital dick-ery does encourage it. The anonymity of it all means you’re less concerned about hurting the other person’s feelings (although no less sensitive if you get attacked). And the acceptability of it all makes you forget you’re actually being cheap and nasty. As a result, the bitching breeds bitching and suddenly you have pettiness pile-ons where Judith fans take to stalking this couple’s social media, compiling a dossier of every holiday they’ve ever taken.

Now I’m not suggesting you should only ever be nice on social media. Only that if you can’t say something without sounding like a petulant teenager, then don’t say it. Rant to yourself and move on.

If you can’t say something without sounding like a petulant teenager, then don’t say it.