Last Sunday, my favorite football team lost a game. There’s nothing remarkable about that.
However, it was the way they lost that provoked me. They were well ahead at halftime, shutting out a heretofore winless squad. After the break, however, a series of error-filled plays ensued. The losing team rallied and gained confidence. What looked like certain victory for my home side became a collapse of commitment and, seemingly, character.
Having no one to complain to, I consulted a social media site for “fan reactions” to the debacle. What I discovered was a treasure trove of abusive comments posted just after the game. Nostrils flaring, writers claimed that both the coach and general manager should be fired. The players, save for a couple, were declared both overpaid and incompetent. Several people said they would no longer be supporting the team. Ten years of grievances were aired.
Interestingly, no one raised their voice in the team’s defense. Nay-sayers claimed the day, at least until this weekend’s chance for redemption.
A culture of complaint
Nothing written above should surprise the reader. We live in a society dominated increasingly by the activities of large organizations, economic and governmental. As individuals, we feel there is little we can do about their behaviors. Similarly, we consume media reports of events that swirl around us. Those events seem both distant (perhaps a school shooting in a faraway state) and intimate (with videos broadcast into our homes). We mourn the victims but see few policy changes to make the dangers stop.
Even day-to-day interactions acquire this quality of impersonality and lack of control. A stranger, driving wildly, cuts in front of us. A company we depend on unexpectedly suspends its services. A doctor’s office fails to notify us of some important test results.
As psychologists explain, frustration occurs when personal goals are blocked. The more important and immediate the goal (perhaps securing food for our family) and the more persistent the blockage, the greater the frustration. When blockage is too vast or impenetrable or when goals are too lofty, ambition may give way to resignation. By contrast, frustration lives in that more proximate zone where people believe that their desires are legitimate and that they should have ways of achieving these. Few of us expect the luxuries of a five-star hotel. We do expect clean sheets and a bug-free room when we take our modest vacation.
Commonly then, we express frustration in the form of verbal complaints. This may mean face-to-face confrontation with someone (the hotel receptionist?) who can “do something” about the problem at hand. However, the person in charge (the manager, perhaps) often is “away.” We are directed to the customer service department. We can’t get through the automated call system. Emails go unanswered. Frustration builds.
At that point, who among us hasn’t gone public with our displeasure? That means sounding off to friends and family, writing negative internet reviews, and lodging complaints with regulatory agencies. Such demonstrations are now accustomed elements of modern culture. Pointedly, we rarely stress our own role in the difficulty. Other people, organizations, or even “the system” are to blame.
Safety zones
Much as an enclosed automobile gives us the sense we can safely curse or make obscene gestures at an obnoxious driver, so we choose venues for other forms of venting. Both ordinary mail and email give writers the opportunity to state complaints more sharply than they would in person. Presumably, negative responses to those complaints, if any, can be ignored or discarded.
Social media platforms, such as the one displaying criticisms of my losing team, are even better. These provide pseudo identity within an instant “community” of similarly inclined people. Venting is the rule rather than the exception.
In-person complaints carry greater risks. Sometimes, we choose seemingly anonymous settings like public demonstrations and marches where we are surrounded by others who support our views. For one-on-one conversations, we choose familiar others whom we know to be on our side. Entirely unsatisfactory is venting to someone who gives us grief for our concerns.
Reaffirming beliefs
Frustration (and its release) has emotional and physiological components. We feel ourselves getting “worked up.” Releasing that tension in words and actions feels better, at least momentarily. However, venting also has an important cognitive aspect.
When we express ourselves, we make public a certain account of a difficult situation. Typically, we recite the history of that situation, our (relatively innocent) role in unfolding events, and the incompetence or malevolence of other parties. External factors, such as government policies or blind chance, may be added to the story.
Proclaiming this view of things is our attempt to characterize the “reality” we’ve lived through. We want listeners to support that viewpoint. More importantly, we want to convince ourselves of our own judgment and behavior.
Identity issues
Oddly perhaps, we may acquire elevated status by being a complainer, crank or troll. In our grandest visions of ourselves, we want to be known as someone who tells the truth about situations and who helps others find courage to express similar concerns.
The social media site I consulted for commiseration about my team’s loss is organized in this fashion. People post texts, images, links, and so forth regarding the topic at hand. Readers then “vote” this content up or down, effectively increasing the prominence of the post and its creator. Over time, the site calculates user “karma,” essentially a reputability score reflecting the commentator’s ability to attract readers and incite reactions. People (or their personas) establish themselves as community leaders, provocateurs, and wise old heads.
The real world also has its place for doomsayers, rebels, and cranks. As I described in another post, people become known for their “signature” complaints and aversions, that is, things they can de depended upon to avoid or reprove. They take pride in being the ones who hate Parmesan cheese, New York sports teams, or politicians of a certain party. Any success by those elements is sure to set them off. Unsurprisingly, we may find pleasure in “winding them up.”
Styles of complaining
Be clear that people respond to frustration in different ways. For some, complaining is strategic, a form of work. That is, the malcontents want to see results from their activity, such as a refund check or letter of apology. To return to my opening example, the general manager of my losing team was indeed fired the next day. Complaining can also be play. Many posters are intentionally provocative. They want to stir people up, challenge their comments, and watch the ensuing dialogue.
For others, complaint is an ongoing commitment, a ritual that revisits the same issues and takes the same form. Such people effectively tell the listener: “Don’t think that I will stop. This is who I am.” Finally, complaint can be a form of communion. Expressing frustration is a way of soliciting support. Commenters want to know who else is feeling this way and whether they will unite in protest.
In every case, venting is not some uncoordinated lapse in personal control. It’s a calculated attempt to communicate with those who share a common predicament.
