The Drawbacks of St Andrean Gossip

How the rumor mill hurts us

When I was a schoolgirl, gossip was our social currency. We moved in herds, trading on any nuggets of information about our peers’ romantic lives or the causes for any common-room fall-outs. Days of digging would result in a sparkling diamond of novel information, the revelation of which would have a mass of eager, listening girls crowded around you at break time, gorging on every word to come out of your mouth, eyes lighting up with joy at the most scandalous details they could later trade on themselves. The structure of the gossip economy was simple, and the power was intoxicating. 

I imagined this schoolgirl habit would fade once I went to university and joined a community with less concentric social circles, dedicating myself to the fabled acquisition of real-life knowledge and not just the study of who has slept with whom. However, three years later, it appears that this university is just as removed from any grounding sense of reality, and that the St Andrews social currency is practically identical to that of my girlhood. 

When conversing with a fresh face here in town, a connection is forged through the establishment of shared experience. Whilst this could be a module you are both enrolled in, or a society you both wish to join, it is more often than not a “wait, do you know ____?” After an affirmative answer to this question, friendship is practically guaranteed. “Mutuals,” as they are known, are the glue that binds us all together. Sharing anecdotes about a person you both already know enables this stranger to cross the permeable boundary from the unknown to the familiar. 

An anecdotal exchange like the one detailed above is a pretty harmless way to vet a potential new friend, establishing that you both know and like the same people and thus are likely to get along. However, when the rumour mill begins to constantly churn out new and increasingly lofty tales of scandal and woe, gossip can become a venomous way to alienate individuals and demolish carefully constructed reputations. 

At times, the inescapable spread of gossip can result in some of the more seedy characters who operate in St Andrews receiving their comeuppance and necessary exile from society. The speed with which this happens, though, can at times be astounding. Somebody snogs someone they shouldn’t at the Union, ten group chats receive a notification, the information sustains twenty morning coffee-shop debriefs, and by the afternoon, it feels as if we might as well erect a light-up billboard in the quad to make sure the last few stragglers receive the news. 

The game of telephone, which is constantly ongoing in this town, passing through lecture halls, cafés, pub tables, and living rooms, can also result in some egregious half-truths being collectively understood as gospel. Often, those who sow the first poisoned seeds are at several layers of remove from the individual whom they are accusing of the crime. Perhaps they confused them with someone else, perhaps they embellished the truth for a few more gasps. Yet the information spreads faster than an infectious disease, and before long, half of our student community is sure that ____ is a cheating fascist with a coke problem. The individual in question will probably be forced to move to Dundee until the next social pariah is announced. 

Gossip is thrilling. Hearing of an unexpected new coupling or a drunk misadventure is exciting and guaranteed to turn the cogs of conversation. However, as with your academic work here at this university, before citing, always check your sources. 

Illustration by Mia Fish