How to take the ping out of WhatsApp groups

Every family has one. And as unique as you might think they are, they hardly differ from each other. Each has at least one participant who has never contributed to the conversation; each has an annoying person who shares outrageously fake news; and each has someone who has stormed off the group in protest, only to return quietly, if only to find out the theme of Jackson’s birthday. 

Family WhatsApp groups are a microcosm of that family unit: part love, part dysfunction, part endurance test. They exist somewhere between a bulletin board and a therapy session. They’re where recipes, memes, holiday photos, and unsolicited medical advice meet. It’s where arguments about politics or religion are often prefaced with, “I don’t want to start a fight, but…” right before starting a fight. 

Then there are the class groups, the modern-day equivalent of the school-gate conversation, only with less eye contact and more hysteria. These groups are ruled by that parent who posts at 22:30 asking if “tomorrow is civvies day”, sparking 47 notifications before anyone can reply with a simple “yes”. They are also a place where a small misunderstanding about the tuck shop can turn into a full-blown debate about school policy, morality, and whether Mrs Grayson should still be teaching maths after what happened on the outing to the zoo – don’t even get me started! 

But where WhatsApp groups get truly complicated and troubling is in the workplace. Or in professional-specific spaces. What was meant to be a tool for co-ordination and communication has increasingly become a platform for political expression, virtue signalling, and, far too often, hostility. 

Over the past two years, many Jewish professionals have found themselves in work or industry WhatsApp groups that have morphed from sharing professional updates to becoming spaces of open, aggressive, anti-Israel sentiment. It’s one thing to debate foreign policy around a dining room table; it’s another when that debate turns into a torrent of memes, slogans, and slurs in what’s supposed to be a professional chat. 

When this happens, it’s tempting to fire back or to leave in protest, but neither option really helps. A more constructive approach is to set the boundary clearly, calmly, and collectively. Something like: “Where I can respond and offer a counter to this, I’m choosing not to because it’s not relevant to this group. I’m sure most participants would agree that introducing political or religious debate here will lead only to unhelpful conflict. I’d appreciate it if the admin and others on this group could support keeping this space professional.” If necessary, repeat this, and then repeat it again and again. 

That kind of message doesn’t escalate the conflict, it reframes it. It reminds everyone of the purpose of the group, and it often earns silent gratitude from those who felt uncomfortable but didn’t know how to say so. 

The irony, of course, is that WhatsApp was meant to make us more connected. Instead, it’s made it easier to broadcast outrage and harder to maintain civility. The same app that keeps grandparents in touch with their grandkids has become the arena where misinformation and moral grandstanding thrive. 

The time has come to reclaim these spaces – or at least to remember their purpose. Family groups should be about love; school groups about logistics and Jackson’s Pirates of the Caribbean party; and professional groups about professionalism. 

Because once our digital conversations lose respect and context, they stop being conversations at all. They become shouting matches, conducted quietly, one ping at a time.