Lately, I’ve been getting a ton of texts from strange numbers. Every day for weeks, some stranger has invited me to dinner or to play tennis with new friends, or told me that it’s been way too long and we should catch up.
They’re all spam, obviously, hoping to trick lonely people into responding and, ultimately, sending cash or "investing" in crypto scams. The tactic is known as pig butchering, because the scammer builds a trusting relationship with their victims to fatten them up before slaughter.
These ploys are fucked up on both sides: Investigations by Vice and ProPublica have found that many text-based scams rely on forced labor and human trafficking for the grunt work of roping in the desperate.
The victims on the other end, meanwhile, are a more diverse group than you might expect. While people over 60 make up the largest group falling prey to internet scams, many victims of catfish-style cons are young; a 2021 Australian government report found that half of the victims of romance-related scams were under 35. Data from China, where pig butchering first gained prominence, show that many victims are women, and a disproportionate number have advanced degrees, according to the Global Anti-Scam Organization.
Some people who know better than to respond to these texts find them mildly charming. Others delight in fucking with the scammers, posting their exchanges on TikTok or Reddit. I find that practice disturbing, since there's a chance the person on the other end isn’t there by choice; plus, you’re confirming to spammers they’ve got a so-called "live lead," which makes your phone number more valuable to sell.
Personally, I find the success of these scams both depressing and infuriating. Their proliferation means they're effective tools for conning money out of socially disconnected people — a group growing so quickly, and with such alarming consequences for our rates of death and disease, that the surgeon general’s office has called it a public health crisis.
I can’t block every spoofed number, or get my data off whatever lead generation list it’s been sold onto or stolen from. But I think there's another way to fight back at the root, with some inspiration from the scammers.
Over the last month or so, whenever I've thought of an old pal, I've sent them a text — nothing fancy, just a hey-how-are-you. The responses have been a delightful hodgepodge of information about babies and gender transitions and new careers (as someone who despises social media, I tend to miss a lot of acquaintances' life changes). Little by little, these notes tossed into the void have been filling a hole I hadn’t quite noticed was there.
A few weeks ago, I reached out to a high school friend I hadn’t spoken to in 10 or 15 years. We scheduled a catch-up call, and ended up talking for over an hour about where our lives have diverged and where they've followed parallel trajectories. With so many years to cover, we barely had time for reminiscing. I got off the phone feeling good: a little stronger, a little more resilient.
So this week, if you have time to do one extra thing, I suggest connecting with someone in a way that counts. It doesn’t have to be big, or take a lot of time.
Call your parents and make sure they know not to respond to phishing texts, then genuinely listen while they tell you what they’ve been up to. Email your favorite high school teacher to thank them for putting up with your bullshit. Ask your neighbors if they need help with anything. Have a real conversation with the docents at the Lake Merritt bonsai garden. Invite someone who’s new in town to a 4th of July barbecue. Volunteer for a shift at the SF-Marin Food Bank.
We can all do our part to make the world a little less lonely. After all, we’re in this together — and we get to decide whether we face the wilds of the future one-on-one, or side-by-side.
