These days, more of us are coming to the conclusion that people are asking the wrong question about online harm. Every conference, policy paper, product launch and LinkedIn discussion seems to revolve around making software safer, building smarter moderation tools, introducing more AI or tightening regulation. While all of those things have a role to play, they also risk distracting us from the uncomfortable truth that online harm is not always a technology problem. It is, and always has been, a human behaviour problem; digital technology merely provides the latest stage upon which our oldest behaviours are performed.
That point was reinforced yet again by the recent BBC report about 19-year-old Sasha Davies from Aberdare, who was awarded £10,000 in damages after another teenage girl from the same town spent almost four years stealing her identity. Beginning when Sasha was just 16, her photographs were taken from social media and used alongside AI-generated images to create multiple fake personas across seven platforms, including TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, Tinder, Hinge and SoundCloud. The impersonator built an audience of more than 100,000 followers, conducted romantic conversations with numerous men and, on several occasions, left Sasha being approached in the street by complete strangers who genuinely believed they knew her. It’s a shocking case, but not because it demonstrates what technology can do but because it demonstrates what people choose to do with technology.
Was it jealousy? Envy? Obsession? Low self-esteem? A need for attention or control? We don’t know, and perhaps the court didn’t seek to psychoanalyse the perpetrator. What we do know is that none of those emotions were invented by social media or artificial intelligence, they have existed throughout human history. A century ago the same motivations might have resulted in malicious gossip, poison-pen letters or calculated attempts to destroy someone’s reputation at court. Today, the same human behaviours simply have access to fake profiles, AI-generated images and an audience of millions. The technology has evolved beyond recognition; the psychology has barely changed.
Sometimes I think we accuse technology far too much; we speak as though social media invented bullying, smartphones invented harassment and artificial intelligence invented deception – spoiler: they didn’t (read Shakespear for example). If anything, they have simply exposed traits that have travelled with our species since long before we learned to write, built cities or even understood what civilisation was. During the Stone Age, no one had time to spend chiselling complaints about trolls onto cave walls, instead, our ancestors had far more immediate concerns, such as avoiding sabre-toothed cats, surviving brutal winters or making sure another tribe didn’t decide today was a good day to steal their food, their land or simply remove them from existence with clubs. However, as we evolved from camp fires and humans had more “lesire time”, things began to change.
I think there’s an important psychological point that often gets overlooked, summed up rather neatly by the old saying that “the devil makes work for idle hands”. While it’s an oversimplification, there’s a grain of truth behind it. Human beings generally thrive when they have purpose, positive relationships and something meaningful to invest their time and energy in. Remove those anchors and leave boredom, loneliness, resentment or a lack of direction to fill the gap, and people become far more susceptible to negative influences. Sometimes that’s the wrong peer group, sometimes it’s an online community that normalises hatred or harassment, and sometimes it’s simply having too much time to dwell on perceived slights until they grow into unhealthy obsessions. Criminology has long recognised that opportunity, environment and social influences play a significant role in offending behaviour, while psychology tells us that our need for belonging can be so powerful that we’ll often adopt the behaviours of the groups we most identify with. Of course, being bored doesn’t create an abuser any more than joining a rugby club automatically creates a good citizen. Most people with idle time never harm anyone, but if someone is already struggling with insecurity, poor emotional regulation or a need for validation, a lack of positive purpose can become fertile ground for destructive behaviour to take root. That’s why tackling online harm isn’t simply about policing bad behaviour after it happens; it’s also about giving people better places to belong before the wrong ones find them – bring back scouts and youth centres ?
That, to me, is where the conversation should begin. The forms and tools of harm have changed dramatically throughout history, but the underlying behaviours have remained remarkably familiar. Early humans lived at the mercy of nature: predators, disease, starvation and exposure were the greatest threats to survival. As societies became more organised, many of those dangers were gradually replaced by dangers created by humans themselves.
As clubs became spears; spears became swords; swords became firearms; firearms became missiles capable of crossing continents, the weapons changed because our understanding of science and engineering evolved; the motivations behind using them (mainly fear, greed, power, revenge, control, tribalism and ideology) didn’t suddenly appear alongside Edison’s power distribution systems, they have been there all along.
History, in many ways, is simply the story of human beings becoming increasingly effective at documenting both the very best and the very worst parts of themselves. Every major technological breakthrough has delivered extraordinary benefits while simultaneously creating new opportunities for exploitation. The printing press democratised knowledge, but it also spread propaganda faster than ever before. Radio connected nations while providing dictators with an unprecedented means of influencing millions. Television informed the public while also becoming a powerful vehicle for misinformation and manufactured outrage. The internet has connected families, educated billions and transformed healthcare, commerce and communication, yet it has also allowed abuse, fraud, radicalisation and manipulation to scale in ways previous generations could scarcely have imagined. None of those technologies created malice, they simply amplified whatever human beings chose to do with them.
This is where psychology becomes impossible to ignore because human beings did not evolve for life on global digital platforms. We evolved in relatively small social groups where reputation and belonging mattered and exclusion could genuinely threaten survival. Our brains are still wired to detect social threats, seek approval and respond emotionally to rejection because, for most of our evolutionary history, being cast out from your tribe wasn’t merely embarrassing; it could be fatal. Those survival mechanisms remain deeply embedded within us, yet we now experience them in an environment where a disagreement can be witnessed by millions, a rumour can circle the globe before breakfast and a cruel comment can remain searchable long after everyone involved has forgotten posting it. Our biology has changed very little in tens of thousands of years, while our technology has transformed almost beyond recognition in little more than a century. For example, our hormones have not adapted to life in a heavily dominant digital infrastructure and the health of many I believe will be negatively impacted by the sedentary lifestyle that dominates and the emissions from these systems. We carry Stone Age brains into an environment capable of delivering endless stimulation, instant validation and immediate conflict twenty-four hours a day. It should hardly surprise us that problems emerge when ancient instincts collide with modern technology – the human body hasn’t kept pace with modern day software and is incapable of doing so by natural evolution for many millenia…
Behavioural science has repeatedly shown that context influences behaviour. People are more likely to act aggressively when they feel anonymous, less accountable or surrounded by others who appear to share or encourage their actions. Psychologists describe elements of this through concepts such as deindividuation, social identity and group behaviour. Remove eye contact, immediate consequences and the physical presence of another human being, and some individuals become willing to say things they would never dream of saying face-to-face (they would get a drink tipped in their lap at the pub!). The internet didn’t invent that tendency, it simply provides an environment where those psychological conditions frequently exist. Wonder why people are starting to want to sell up and live in the countryside and spend their days on a small holding growing their own fruit and vegetables? Perhaps many of us are craving what our body and soul has evolved to need in order to be content…
There is another uncomfortable evolution of this same behaviour that we cannot ignore. Long before social media became part of everyday life, television programmes such as Dirty Sanchez and Jackass turned extreme stupidity, pain and risk into entertainment. People watched adults willingly hurt themselves, attempt ridiculous stunts and push boundaries simply because there was an audience willing to watch. For most viewers, it remained just that: entertainment. A reckless spectacle performed by people who understood the risks and, importantly, had production teams, medical support and a level of control behind the scenes. The danger came when that culture moved from television screens into the hands of children carrying smartphones. The mobile phone did not invent risk-taking, curiosity or peer pressure, but it transformed them. Suddenly, a child sitting alone in their bedroom could discover a challenge online, feel pressure to prove themselves, film it instantly and share it with the world in the search for attention, acceptance or belonging. What began as foolish dares gradually evolved into something far darker, where some challenges crossed a line from stupidity into genuine danger.
The so-called blackout challenge, which encouraged participants to restrict their breathing or oxygen levels, has been linked to the deaths of children including 10-year-old Nylah Anderson in the United States. The cinnamon challenge, often dismissed as just another ridiculous internet trend, resulted in children suffering serious respiratory problems and hospitalisation. Behind every headline, viral video and statistic behind this is a family whose lives have been permanently altered. I think particularly of parents such as Ellen Roome, who I have had the privilege of getting to know, and the unbearable reality she and some families now carry: that the last moments of their child’s life may have involved an app on a device that was supposed to connect them to their family, friends and positive entertainment.
The phone itself was not the villain; the apps did not wake up one morning and decide to harm a child. But the combination of curiosity, vulnerability, peer influence, online validation and the ability to instantly record and share created a dangerous environment where, for some children, the next video they filmed became the last thing they ever did. That is the human cost behind the debate about online harm. It is why this conversation cannot simply be about technology; it has to be about understanding the behaviours, pressures and environments that allow these tragedies to happen.
Then there is the question that makes many people uncomfortable: nature versus nurture. Personally, I’ve never believed the answer sits neatly on either side. Some people undoubtedly arrive in the world with different temperaments, levels of impulsivity or emotional sensitivity. Equally, our upbringing, relationships, education and lived experiences shape how those characteristics develop. A child raised with empathy, boundaries and accountability is likely to see the world differently from someone raised amidst neglect, violence or hostility. Neuroscience has also shown us that the brain remains remarkably adaptable throughout life, meaning our past influences us but does not imprison us. That leaves something many modern discussions seem reluctant to acknowledge: personal choice, the willingness to recognise our faults and the ability to work to be better versions of ourselves.
For all the talk of algorithms, platforms and artificial intelligence, every abusive message still has someone who chose to write it. Every fake account has someone who chose to create it. Every campaign of harassment begins with individuals making conscious decisions. Algorithms may recommend content because human responses such as outrage generates engagement, but they do not force anyone to become abusive and create that content. Artificial intelligence may generate convincing text, but responsible AI does not wake up each morning deciding to blackmail someone or destroy a stranger’s reputation. Somewhere, a human being makes that decision and I feel this can often be overlooked.
I sometimes wonder whether our obsession with technological solutions reflects our discomfort with confronting human behaviour. Building another moderation tool feels tangible, releasing another AI app to help feels innovative, passing another regulation feels decisive, asking why some people feel entitled to humiliate strangers for entertainment, manipulate vulnerable people or derive satisfaction from causing psychological harm is considerably harder because there are no simple fixes. Teaching empathy, emotional regulation, resilience and accountability is slower than deploying software. It doesn’t produce exciting headlines, earn you votes on a ballot box or impressive product demonstrations. Yet I increasingly suspect those lessons will achieve more in the long term than another generation of increasingly sophisticated algorithms trying to clean up the mess afterwards.
None of this is to argue that technology companies should escape responsibility. Big tech absolutely should design safer products, reduce foreseeable risks and be held accountable where appropriate. Governments, schools, parents and employers have a role – we all do, my concern is that we’ve started confusing the tool with the cause. If we genuinely believe online harm began with smartphones, then we’ll naturally look to smartphones for the solution. If, however, online harm is simply humanity’s oldest behaviours wearing modern clothes, then our solutions have to address humanity as much as technology.
That, to me, is the additional conversation we should be having today and tomorrow. Throughout history we’ve become exceptionally good at inventing new ways to communicate, travel, fight, persuade and influence, but we haven’t become nearly as good at is understanding ourselves. The internet didn’t create human nature; it simply gave it a faster connection, a larger audience and a permanent memory. Until we accept that online harm is rooted as much in psychology, evolution, culture and personal responsibility as it is in code, we’ll continue treating the symptoms while leaving the underlying condition largely untouched, something those of you who read my wellness rambles will know I always try to do.
I don’t think that technology has ever been the author of human harm, just its amplifier. Until we start to address the human behaviour behind the screen instead of simply the screen itself, we’ll continue mistaking the symptom for the cause.
FAQs
Is online harm caused by technology?
Technology facilitates online harm, but the underlying behaviours such as bullying, manipulation, deception and aggression have existed throughout human history. Digital platforms amplify these behaviours rather than create them.
Why do people behave differently online?
Psychological factors such as deindividuation, anonymity, reduced accountability and social reinforcement can lower inhibitions, making some individuals more likely to engage in harmful behaviour online than they would face-to-face.
Has human nature changed with the internet?
No. Human brains evolved for small social groups and still respond to threats, status and belonging in similar ways. The internet has dramatically expanded the scale and speed at which these behaviours can be expressed.
Can AI solve online abuse?
AI can detect, flag and reduce some harmful content, but it cannot eliminate the human motivations behind abusive behaviour. Technology is part of the solution, not the entire solution.
What is the most effective long-term solution to online harm?
A combination of safer technology, effective regulation, digital literacy, but foremost education, empathy, accountability and personal responsibility offers the strongest long-term approach.
References
Bandura, A. (1977). Social Learning Theory.
Bowlby, J. (1969). Attachment and Loss.
Darwin, C. (1871). The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex.
Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, Fast and Slow.
Milgram, S. (1974). Obedience to Authority.
Pinker, S. (2011). The Better Angels of Our Nature.
Sapolsky, R. M. (2017). Behave: The Biology of Humans at Our Best and Worst.
Zimbardo, P. G. (2007). The Lucifer Effect: Understanding How Good People Turn Evil.
