It has been described as “everyone’s worst nightmare” and a “wrong group-chat horror”, which you might think a bit melodramatic – only if you have never experienced it yourself.
As it is, political scandals are rarely so relatable. New Zealand’s Green Party is in highly public turmoil after one politician sent a message seeming to criticise a colleague to a group of their other colleagues, apparently by mistake.
While the Greens’ Chlöe Swarbrick was speaking in the parliament on Wednesday, her fellow MP Elizabeth Kerekere texted a group of Green politicians and staff: “omg what a crybaby” – seeming to refer to Swarbrick’s failed amendment Bill, aiming to reduce harm from alcohol.
After a colleague responded with “I think this is the wrong chat …?” – which ranks alongside “We need to talk” in its ability to instantly strike fear into the heart of its recipient – Kerekere deleted the text, then apologised for the “inappropriate message ... which was not meant for this thread”.
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The full exchange was leaked to Radio New Zealand, which reported the story on Thursday, along with Kerekere’s denial of “calling Swarbrick a crybaby” – but subsequent analysis of Parliament TV shows two Green MPs seated behind Swarbrick looking at their phones, seemingly responding to the texts with apparent horror.
Green MPs Golriz Ghahraman and Julie Anne Genter, who sit behind Swarbrick, could be seen on Parliament TV apparently reading, reacting to, and discussing the texts.
At one point, Ghahraman clasped her hand to her mouth, and shook her head.
The Greens’ co-leaders, Marama Davidson and James Shaw, have condemned Kerekere’s message as inappropriate and going against the party’s values, and said it would be fully investigated. In the meantime, there are lessons here for all of us.
The obvious one might be “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all” – but that’s never been a realistic expectation of human nature, let alone now.
In the age of social media, the line between our having a passing, perhaps uncharitable thought and sharing it with an audience is perilously thin; while any attempt to limit its spread (say, by sharing with “close friends only” or on a pseudonymous Twitter account) is fraught and highly fallible.
With a screen grab or forward, a message shared with a few trusted confidants can easily become a public broadcast – as Kerekere found, too late.
There are a few takeaways from this undignified saga. From a pragmatic standpoint, clearly distinguishing your group chats with names and images provides a helpful visual cue. If you simply must trash-talk someone remotely, voice notes are less easily circulated (and emojis harder to interpret).
It’s also never a good idea to conduct sensitive conversations when you are tired or distracted: the risk of sending a message to someone whom you mean to message about is just too high.
Another underused strategy is simply saying less. It’s only in the recent past that people have had the means to share whatever idle thought occurs to them, almost instantaneously – but all of us are weathering the toll.
Just look at Twitter, compelling some people to voice statements of such staggering banality they cannot be of interest to anyone, even the individuals themselves.
It is as if, in this attention economy, some people have come to feel that they are shortchanging themselves if they don’t convey their emotions or experiences to a broader audience – whether a friend on WhatsApp or their followers on Twitter.
Comparisons with “the past” are nearly always reductive, not least because there’s no bundling social media back into Pandora’s box now – but they can be illustrative in showing just how far our understanding of public and private, personal and professional has been derailed.
For instance, had she not had a seemingly private means of voicing it, would Kerekere have felt frustrated enough with Swarbrick to shout out “what a crybaby!” in the House?
Or would she have sat through it in silence and perhaps – if still gripped by irritation after she got home – vented about it then?
Sadly, in this contemporary, personality-driven, digital news cycle, such gripes have become everybody’s problem – perhaps at the expense of faith in politics as a means for effecting change.
But though Swarbrick has risen above it, saying, effectively, that she has been called much worse – the saga benefits only the Greens’ political opponents, able to point to it as a sign of juvenile infighting and incompetence, and to coast while the news cycle is distracted.
It also speaks to the loss of perspective on what politicians exist to do: serve.
It is in those demanding jobs, working under intense pressure and scrutiny, that learning how to manage our emotional responses and retain perspective – or at least think before we tweet – becomes all the more useful.
All politicians, everywhere, could do well to think of their job as a high-stakes negotiation with real-life consequences, rather than a TV show that they’re keeping one eye on as they text their friends. – Guardian