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A study finds that negative gossip takes a
back seat in conversation popularity to
who-was-doing-what-with-whom chit-chat
BY EVA SYLWESTER
NEWS REPORTER
erbally ripping people to
shreds in their absence has
V been a widespread human
pastime for hundreds of years. While
some people may feel guilty for
taking part in gossip, some social
scientists claim it’s part of the
species’ evolutionary heritage.
“‘Juicy’ or ‘hot’ gossip, which tends
to travel fast, is almost always about
bad behavior, not good behavior,”
associate professor of psychology
Holly Arrow said in an e-mail
interview. “It is useful to pass this in
formation on to others because learn
ing that a person can’t be trusted to
behave properly warns all who hear
the gossip to beware of this person.
This provides some social protection
against others who might try to take
advantage of us.”
Arrow added that, from an
evolutionary perspective, it makes
sense that information about forms
of cheating such as stealing,
sexual misbehavior and political
corruption, are frequently shared.
According to the book “Grooming,
Gossip and the Evolution of
Language” by psychologist Robin
Dunbar, around two-thirds of human
conversation is taken up with matters
of social import. However, a study by
Dunbar and her colleagues, which
was cited in the book, found that
only 5 percent of conversation was
related to criticism and negative
gossip, and that the most-commonly
discussed topics were who-was
doing-what-with whom and person
al social experiences.
Dunbar’s study also found few
GOSSIP, page 8B
■ in my opinion
This liberal has been won over
by the Oregon Commentator
I do it in the morning, sometimes
at the breakfast table. I do it in bed,
in the bathroom, in the kitchen on
the counter, and sometimes, when
I’m feeling really naughty, I’ll
clear off a desk at the Oregon Daily
Emerald office and do it right there,
in front of the entire staff.
That’s right, 1 read the Oregon
Commentator, front to back and
usually more than once.
But given my ultra-liberal,
politically correct upbringing, my
affinity for the O.C. isn’t just absurd,
it’s downright offensive.
I grew up in one of those poster
multi-racial family households. My
mom is from Lebanon, Ore. (and
needless to say, is white) and my dad
immigrated here from the Philippines
when he was 7. Between civil rights,
women’s rights, worker’s rights and
student’s rights, I would guess both
earned FBI files during their ‘70s
college heyday.
So, naturally, my household was
MORIAH BALINGIT
I LIKE BROCCOLI
PC. Name-brand clothing, sugary
cereals, video games, violent movies,
television (except for PBS, of course)
and pretty much everything else that
makes an 8-year-old cool were off
limits. The justification was that they
promoted consumerism, sexism,
racism and a whole lot of other -isms.
We were encouraged to “accept
everyone,” which meant I always
ended up inviting those social charity
cases that nobody liked to my
birthday parties.
By the time 1 reached high school,
my political correctness radar had
kicked into high gear. To make
matters worse, I attended a private
Catholic high school where you
could get expelled for promoting
birth control, where the Inquisition
was glazed over and where homo
phobia was acceptable. Just about
everything incensed me, from a stu
dent erroneously assigning his blue
pen a sexual identity to my world re
ligions teacher broadly concluding
that “Islam is a violent religion.”
I’m not really sure what happened,
but I guess I got tired of being angry
all the time. I also simultaneously
discovered that my breasts, the
modest B-cups that they are,
harnessed an enormous amount of
power if 1 only allowed myself to
become a little less principled. Free
drinks and unfettered access to frater
nity parties were among the perks.
This lengthy journey of self-discov
ery led me to the Oregon Commenta
tor. In my job, I’m inundated with
BALINGIT, page 14B
■ In my opinion
Devoted Internet addicts reap vast
rewards, like how to kill a goldfish
Did you know the most humane
way to kill a sick goldfish is to put it
in a freezer baggie and slap it
against a wall? That the Raleigh
Record bicycle of 1968 was offered
in both Competition Blue and
Bronze Green? That training a cat to
use the toilet rather than its litter
box is easy, safe and natural?
If you didn’t spout a triumphant
“yes” to at least two of these
questions, you’re obviously not an
Internet junkie.
For most people, the Internet is
a tool to be used for research,
communication and downloading
grainy porn. These casual Internet
users probably have jobs, friends,
families or other responsibilities
they deem important. These people
are really missing out.
My life on the Web began when I
was a pimply junior high schooler,
and I have only become more
obsessed since. Once online, I
chatted with friends from exotic
places such as Illinois and Texas. I
made shaky animated pictures and
posted them on my Web site. If I
didn’t have anything else to do, I
surfed and surfed. I sent e-mail
messages and waited anxiously for
replies. The Internet gave me the
social high l didn’t get at> sohool,#
ADRIENNE NELSON
404 NOT FOUND
and it had the added bonus of
raising my intelligence level. Oh,
and I also occasionally used it for a
school assignment.
If I had to guess, I’d say the
most powerful Internet tools for
individuals are search engines. Type
in any word or combination
of words, hit enter, eat another
handful of Fiddle Faddle, and the
information will be at your
fingertips. No physical activity
necessary. You can even find
reliable sources for that term paper
that was due 15 minutes ago.
(Bonus quiz: How many erotic
images are returned when one types
“peanut butter” into the Google
Images search bar?)
Less Internet-savvy folks may ask
why anyone would want a personal
Web page. The blatant answer:
because they can. There are
, hundreds of services clamoring to
get users’ personal information
in exchange for a few measly
megabytes of Web space. Most
companies have programs that
don’t require the user to actually
know anything about how a Web
page works. Now everyone can
display blurry frat party pictures
and bad poetry to the world, all
from the comfort of his or her
underpants. The new trend of
writing Web logs, more irritatingly
known as blogs, allows the same
pajama-clad individuals to share
profound thoughts and deep,
mushy feelings without coding a
single line.
Alas, having advanced into a
pimply college student, I’ve mostly
outgrown the use of chat programs
such as ICQ and AOL Instant
Messenger. I still have a Web
site, and I still use e-mail, albeit
mostly to talk with my mom. My
obsession with the World Wide Web
has branched into a full-out
computer fetish, helping me
with everyday digital dealings
and securing a few employment
opportunities. (Did you know
when using a CRT monitor, the user
is immersed in a constantly
fluctuating electro-magnetic field?)
NELSON, page 14B