Article
Attention
Culture
Digital
Ghosting
Psychology
5 min read

Ghosting is not immature, it’s plain cruel

The dehumanising behaviour hiding in plain sight.

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen and co-host of its Re-enchanting podcast.

On a dark street someone checks their mobile phone for messages.

‘Do you really believe that the moon only exists when you look at it?’ 

It’s a great question. Do you know who asked it? It sounds rather Shakespearean, doesn’t it? It’s got a touch of the – ‘that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet’ - about it. 

But not so.  

Interestingly, it was Albert Einstein who asked this question. He asked it again and again – unable to relax into any answer his contemporaries could offer him. He thought, at least initially, that he was asking a question about quantum physics. But he wasn’t; not really. Einstein was asking what it means to exist, what it means to be. 

And that means that he was actually asking a theological question. And I, for one, would appreciate it if we would get into the habit of asking it too, just phrased a little differently. I’d like us to ask something a little like:  

Do you really believe that the person only exists when you text them back?’ 

Yes, I’m imploring us all to take an Einstein-esque approach to the phenomenon of ‘ghosting’.  

Ghosting, just to make sure that we’re all one the same page, is the act of abruptly and completely cutting off all forms of contact with another person, offering no form of prior warning nor any kind of subsequent explanation. To ghost someone is to perform a social cut and run, a relational dine-and-dash, if you will. This, of course, can happen in all kinds of contexts – in work situations, in friendships, and in the most niche of circumstances. There’s an incredibly popular podcast, the title of which – ‘My Therapist Ghosted Me’ - is a tongue in cheek reference to one of the presenters being inexplicably cut off by their own therapist. Ouch.

And so, ghosting causes a social injury, it inflicts a heart wound. Being ghosted, we are coming to realise, is a rejection of the most absolute kind.

But where this phenomenon is reaching astounding heights is in the context of romantic relationships. The technological age in which we live, where the majority of romantic relationships are now being initiated and established online, has meant that we’ve got ghosting down to a fine art. It’s become all too easy. And apparently, nobody is immune.  

Just recently, Billie Eilish – Oscar and Grammy award winning musical genius and all-round cultural icon - explained how she had recently been the victim of an almighty ghosting. She said,  

‘it was insane. I was like – “did you die? Have you literally died?” It was somebody that I’d known for years, we had a plan (to meet) and the day of… nothing. I never heard from him again.’ 

Imagine being ignored so suddenly and completely that your first instinct is that the person must have died, only to realise – they hadn’t died, you were just disposable to them. This is happening all of the time, there’s a generation of people who are having their sense of self and of the ‘other’ defined by this very phenomenon. 

What’s incredibly interesting is that in the span of a few short years, psychologists and relationship therapists have gone from speaking of ‘ghosting’ in terms of emotional immaturity, conflict avoidance and a lack of communication skills, to regarding it as a form of cruelty and even abuse.  

It is not primarily the intent of the ‘ghost’ that is causing psychologists to speak of ghosting in increasingly serious terms. Most ‘ghosts’ are cowardly, perhaps, but not sheer evil. Rather, it is the extraordinary depths of hurt that the behaviour inflicts (intended or not) upon the person who has been victim to it.  

We are learning that there are all manner of harmful things that ghosting does to our brains and all kinds messages that it sends to our self-esteem. Namely, that we weren’t enough for that person, that we’ve failed somehow, that we’re disposable, that we misread the situation, that we misread them, that we’re deficient in almost every kind of way.  

These lies inevitably fill the gaps left by the silence of the other person. False explanations, usually of the most self-depreciating kind, take advantage of that fact that no explanation was offered by the person who hurt us. The bewilderment itself becomes a form of torture. And so, ghosting causes a social injury, it inflicts a heart wound. Being ghosted, we are coming to realise, is a rejection of the most absolute kind.  

Ghosting is the symptom of a society in which we kid ourselves into thinking that people only come to life when our thoughts turn to them or our eyes rest on them.

But I think there’s even more to it. And this is where I return to Einstein’s question, and my modern, admittedly much less cosmic, re-imagining of it. Because underneath it all, I think that ghosting is a theological issue.  

To ghost someone is to act as if they do not exist because you have averted your gaze from them. It is, therefore, to deprive them of the fullness of their existence. Or, at least, to deny it. It is an act of deep diminishment. Do we really believe that the moon only exists when it is looked upon? Ghosting forces us to similarly ask – do we believe that we only exist when we are looked upon?  

So, you see, it goes deep. It cuts to the core of what it means to be.  

Ghosting is the symptom of a society in which we kid ourselves into thinking that people only come to life when our thoughts turn to them or our eyes rest on them. If we can’t see the suffering we’ve caused, it isn’t happening. If we’ve cut someone out of our life, they aren’t existing. At least, we can behave as if they aren’t.  

One could argue that it’s a form of dehumanization, one that’s hidden in plain sight.  

And that, alongside all of the other reasons (or perhaps undergirding them), is the reason that I think being ghosted cuts us to the core; it brings into question the very reality of our existence.  

‘Do you really believe that the moon only exists when you look at it?’ 

Einstein’s question may feel a little abstract but it’s actually as tangible and personal as it gets. 

Article
Character
Comment
Film & TV
5 min read

Traitors reflects an age of deceit and disappointment

Behind the game play, we're yearning for authenticity and connection.

Alex Stewart is a lawyer, trustee and photographer.  

A montage shows a Scottish castle, the host of the V show the Traitors and a dark scary scene.
BBC.

‘What a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive.’ 

Some people, it seems, are not cut out to be liars. I felt for Freddie, one of the last contestants to survive on The Traitors, who found out the hard way. A fumbled recounting of a fabricated conversation with fellow Traitor Minah was enough to seal his fate, and soon he too was banished from the castle. The sad irony was that until his last-minute recruitment as a Traitor, Freddy had in fact been a Faithful for most of the show, insistently proclaiming his innocence and now cruelly denied his chance of vindication. But that’s all part of the game: shifting identities and alliances mean nothing is at it seems, and trusting is fraught with risk.  

Part of the success of The Traitors is that it has very successfully tapped into a pervasive national mood: the feeling that we are constantly being deceived, misled, spun or manipulated. This is hardly surprising. Trust in politicians and institutions is at an all-time low, eroded by scandals, misinformation and truth dodging. From the Post Office and the contaminated blood scandals to the manipulation of unpalatable facts to the non-apologies of the guilty, the British public has become increasingly sceptical of those in power.  

The 2024 British Social Attitudes survey, conducted by the National Centre for Social Research, revealed that public trust in the UK's system of government has reached a record low, while a similar survey by the OECD reported that only 27 per cent of people in the UK reported high or moderately high trust in government, well below the OECD average of 39 per cent.   

But it’s not just politicians and institutions that we distrust. The new world of deep fakes, misinformation, and AI-generated content seems also to have had a corrosive effect on our ability to trust one another.  A recent CREST Insights report indicates that only 41 per cent  of respondents now trust their neighbours, while the Edelman Trust Barometer tells us that this distrust has, for some, moved from resignation to outright hostility, with one in two young adults approving of hostile activism as driver of change - including attacking people online and intentionally spreading disinformation.  

With this backdrop, it is hardly surprising that the contestants of The Traitors are susceptible to high levels of paranoia, and see Machiavellian deceit and betrayal as their only way to survive and have any chance of winning.   

But the human cost of betrayal is high and psychologically taxing. The constant need to fabricate stories, remember lies, and manage the stress of potential exposure requires huge cognitive and emotional effort. The effects are tangible as the contestants suffer variously from anxiety, paranoia, and emotional exhaustion.   

Meanwhile the building paranoia is stoked by regular invocations of the dark supernatural as cloaked figures and effigies shift the atmosphere from wink murder to The Wicker Man, and Claudia presides over proceedings with the authority of a pagan high priestess. Even the game operates within a quasi-religious framework of sin, confession, and punishment. Players who lie and deceive will eventually face judgment, from their fellow contestants and the millions watching at home

What appeared to be crocodile tears turned out to be genuine tears of despair as the demands of the game took its toll on her conscience and integrity. “I hate it. I hate how I was.” 

Although everyone knows it’s just a game, the prolonged deception has real world repercussions that continue beyond the show's end.  Many of the contestants struggled to reintegrate into their daily lives, facing challenges in rebuilding trust with loved ones and grappling with their actions during the game. The vicar, Lisa, told of the discomfort of having to explain away her absence on the show as a ‘retreat’, while the winners, Jake and Leanne, both said how difficult it had been to adjust post-show, pointing to a lingering paranoia and the strain of having to keep their victory a secret. 

And yet, while betrayal and deceit define the show, it is often the genuine friendships and moments of trust that resonate most. Few will forget the ‘mother to mother’ pact made by Frankie and Leanne in the kitchen and the emotional final banquet when the suspicion and distrust were briefly lifted. Behind all the game playing, the yearning for authenticity and connection as an antidote to isolation could not be suppressed. 

There are also inspiring moments of hope, vulnerability and redemption. Alexander, the charming diplomat, tells his heartfelt story about his late brother, who had developmental disabilities, which prompted his fans to donate over £30,000 to Mencap. Jake, who suffers from cerebral palsy, overcomes great odds to become one of the winners, and Leanne and Charlotte open up about their struggles to conceive. Each contestant had a back story that humanised them. Even the aloof high priestess herself shed tears, albeit in unaired footage, over her contestants’ traumas.  

But it was Charlotte’s struggles that I found most inspiring. As the final Traitor, she seemed at first to relish her role with a very convincing series of lies, even turning on her fellow Traitor Minah. But it became apparent towards the end that, inside, she was in turmoil. What appeared to be crocodile tears turned out to be genuine tears of despair as the demands of the game took its toll on her conscience and integrity. “I hate it. I hate how I was,” she said later. “I felt so cruel. How I had to be to stay in the game – it was an immense pressure.”   

Catharsis, when it came, was through forgiveness, especially from Frankie, the contestant who perhaps more than any other had reason to be hurt by Charlotte’s betrayal; they had after all been best friends within the confines of the castle. Charlotte later admitted to badly needing her forgiveness, which gracious Frankie was only too happy to give.  

In an age of deceit and disappointment, Charlotte’s honesty, vulnerability and willingness face up to her actions and be reconciled with her victims, rather than justify them or offer a hollow non-apology, and Frankie’s willingness to forgive - offer us the hope that there can be a way out of the doom loop of deceit and broken trust.   

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