Outrage over missing Monday

Soon after my morning show ended on Monday, the ChaiFM office received a call with a complaint. In of itself, this is hardly unusual, and I often joke that I should have a permanent parking at the BCCSA (Broadcasting Complaints Commission of South Africa) given the number of times that I have been referred to it. In my mind’s eye, there is a dedicated person for me at the commission, along with a file labelled, “Not him again”.

This phone call, however, was different. The anonymous listener was apparently very upset that although I had announced the date (both in the Gregorian and Hebrew months), and although I had mentioned several events that were commemorated on that day, I had failed to confirm that it was Monday.

Confirmation that the listener clearly required from me.

Whereas this complaint is mild in relation to the others I receive, and whereas it would be easy to dismiss it as being about someone who was simply having a bad day, I’m intrigued at what the call indicates.

Perhaps it says something about lack of trust in news, information ,and even diaries. Perhaps it’s about the difficulty of navigating a world where we are told to question everything we read and that if there is a “trusted” source, then to rely on them and only them. And unless they confirm that it’s Monday, there is a chance that it could, in fact, be Wednesday.

Alternatively, maybe it reflects the downright irritability of South Africans. Between loadshedding, a government which lies to us each time it communicates, a crumbling infrastructure, and the increased cost of everything, maybe complaining to someone who will listen and even respond might be just the ticket?

Or it indicates that we’re becoming addicted to outrage and that we’re not happy unless we’re exasperated, fearful, and filled with indignation.

We would think that it would be the opposite. That with all the terrible stuff around us, with enough negative South African news to sink the Lady R, we would demand a bit of tranquillity. Insist that no-one overreacts, and make sure that we respond to external stimuli with maturity and calm. Like adults.

And yet, if you were to look at my wife’s WhatsApp groups (I have been evicted from most), you would see message after message of dire warnings, hysterical premonitions, and end-of-life prophesies.

That and tehillim groups, but that’s for another article.

The conclusion that I draw is that we’re addicted to outrage and fear. And that much like we now know that we get a dopamine hit when engaged with social media, so we receive some sort of affirmation from these types of messages. They might predict death, but they make us feel alive. They are proof that we’re still in this fight because dead people aren’t outraged and angry.

And it goes without saying that dead people will hardly be aware that it’s Monday.