The word obviously comes from ‘ghost’, meaning a spirit in English. It became widespread with dating sites, apps and social media during the 2010s, but the practice is much older. People used to simply stop calling someone back, stop replying to their letters or cross the street to avoid them. Digital technology did not, therefore, invent the concept of ‘disappearing’ from a relationship. It has simply made it incredibly efficient: blocking a number, unfollowing someone and vanishing now takes just a few seconds.
And that is probably what changes everything. We’ve never had so many ways to meet people, but we’ve never had so many ways to erase them instantly.
Why do we ghost people?
The least dramatic answer is perhaps the most common: because we don’t know what to say.
Saying ‘I don’t want to see you anymore’ forces you to face up to the distress you’re causing. You have to deal with the other person’s disappointment, their questions, and sometimes their anger. For a few minutes, you have to accept the uncomfortable role of the one doing the rejecting. Disappearing allows you to avoid this situation.
Ghosting thus becomes a form of emotional economy: I remove myself from your emotions so as not to have to face my own.
It can also occur when the relationship remains unclear. Two people have exchanged a few messages, had a coffee, spent a night together. No commitment has been made. The person who disappears may genuinely believe that there is ‘nothing to explain’. The person left behind, on the other hand, may have experienced exactly the same situation as the beginning of something.
This is where the unease arises: two people do not necessarily experience the relationship in the same way, even though they are both part of the same story.
Dating apps have probably exacerbated this phenomenon by sometimes giving the impression that people are interchangeable. Is a conversation running out of steam? Another one begins. Is a date slightly disappointing? Ten other profiles are waiting on the other side of the screen. Without even realising it, we may end up adopting certain consumerist habits in our human relationships: trying things out, comparing, giving up.
But not all instances of ghosting are the same.
There are situations where disappearing is perfectly legitimate. When faced with someone who is aggressive, manipulative, harassing, threatening or simply incapable of respecting a ‘no’, no one has a moral obligation to organise a graceful farewell. Cutting off contact can be a protective measure.
Similarly, after a few superficial exchanges on an app, a lack of response obviously does not carry the same weight as a partner suddenly vanishing after several months of a relationship.
The problem arises when a genuine relationship exists and silence deliberately replaces a possible explanation.
This is because ghosting has a rather intense psychological aspect: it provides no conclusion.
In a conventional break-up, however painful it may be, there is one clear piece of information: ‘it’s over’. With ghosting, the mind remains in a state of uncertainty. Did I do something wrong? Will they come back? Has something happened to them? Was it all a sham from the start? Should I send another message?
This lack of a response easily leads to rumination. The silence becomes a screen onto which the person who’s been abandoned projects every possible explanation – and usually the ones that are least flattering to themselves.
That’s why a fifteen-second message can sometimes spare someone weeks of soul-searching: ‘I’d rather call it a day. I wish you all the best for the future.’
It’s neither dramatic nor particularly pleasant. But it’s clear.
Ghosting can, however, provide a real sense of liberation for the person doing it. No more endless discussions. No need to justify a decision. No more emotional negotiations. You close the door and get on with your life.
The problem is that this relief is sometimes achieved by shifting all the discomfort onto the other person.
The person who disappears avoids the conversation. The person left behind is left with the questions.
This is probably where the line lies between protective ghosting and toxic ghosting. Withdrawing from a dangerous relationship is a form of protection. Disappearing simply because you dread twenty seconds of discomfort is more a case of avoidance.
And the times we live in make this avoidance incredibly easy.
We can delete a conversation without erasing what it meant to the other person. We can block someone’s face without witnessing their disappointment. We can end a relationship without ever uttering the word ‘end’.
The mobile phone thus gives us a relatively new form of relational power: that of leaving a room without having to open the door.
It is also important to distinguish ‘ghosting’ from ‘no contact’, which is often confused with it. Deciding to stop communicating after a clearly announced break-up is not ghosting someone. The relationship has ended; the distance comes afterwards. In ghosting, it is precisely the lack of any announcement that constitutes the break-up.
Is this, then, a toxic behaviour?
Not necessarily.
But when a meaningful relationship exists, when there is no danger to justify walking away, and when a simple explanation would be possible, ghosting says something rather inglorious about our contemporary way of dealing with others: we sometimes want to enjoy human closeness without shouldering the minimal responsibilities that go with it.
A relationship doesn’t oblige you to stay.
It doesn’t even oblige you to provide a twenty-page document explaining why you’re leaving.
But between having to justify oneself endlessly and disappearing without a word, there is a fairly simple option that we sometimes seem to forget: talking.
Even briefly.
Even awkwardly.
Even just to say: I’d rather leave it at that.
In a world where it now takes just a single click to turn someone into a ghost, having the courage to say a single sentence has perhaps become a rather precious form of elegance.
