TikTok must take action against thugs seeking cheap fame

POISONING themselves with cough mixture or nutmeg, licking toilet seats, choking themselves till they pass out, burning their skin with salt and ice, or eating detergent pods – it is fair to say that internet challenges have seen young people do things that defy all common sense, often risking their lives with behaviours they’d never otherwise consider, all to film the results and impress their peers online.

Remember the ‘neknomination challenge’, where participants urged each other to mix up vile concoctions of strong spirits and down them in one? It took multiple fatalities, including some in this country, to see off that particular craze. So what will it take to halt the real-life menace of gangs of criminal teens carrying out random assaults, vandalism and car thefts around Dublin, just so that they can post the videos of their bravado online?

The young thugs who rammed two female gardaí in a squad car last week didn’t really care whether or not they’d hurt the women – all that mattered was the cheers of the other youngsters egging them on.

And their real goal was ‘content’, the creation of TikTok videos for likes and entertainment, for attention and approval.

These were not the ‘deprived’ young people of the ‘hug-a-thug’ lefties’ mythologising, since there was lots of high-end designer sportswear on display and every member of the baying mob had a pricey smartphone to make their own record of the incident – filmed from more angles than the Queen’s funeral.

Chase

Instead, these are clearly idle young people, with no intention of ever working for a living, having exhausted the appeal of their top-of-the-range games consoles and now seeking their kicks by stealing cars from hard-working families – often law-abiding neighbours in their own communities – driving recklessly through residential areas, taunting gardaí for a chase knowing that their youth will protect them from any consequences, and then burning out the cars when they’re done.

It has emerged that most of the worst offenders are already on court-imposed curfews, so they create the greatest havoc before their deadlines kick in at 8pm.

They know the gardaí can arrest and detain them after that time, but from 6pm to 8pm, they’re kings of the road. Those are also the hours when their neighbours’ younger children are making their way home, along those same roads, from sports fixtures or other after-school activities, and it seems we’re heading rapidly back to the 1980s when children crossing streets in their own estates were at huge risk of being killed or injured by a reckless lout in a stolen car.

Back in the grim ’80s there might well have been a case for blaming so-called ‘joyriding’ on economic deprivation and sparse opportunities.

Today, though, with near-full employment and many businesses and services crying out for staff, and with a wealth of entertainment outlets, activities and options that seemed like scifi 40 years ago, it’s getting harder to excuse feral lawlessness. Nor does it need any great explanation either: TikTok, the videosharing app where there’s little effective oversight of posts, is now these thugs’ virtual playground.

Even being arrested for their crimes is a boast, as some of their TikTok posts show them proudly posing in handcuffs, or being wrestled to the ground by gardaí. They’ve no fear of the law, no respect for their communities, and no guidance from their parents.

Sanctions

The only possible intervention that might make a difference has to come from the likes of TikTok, in promptly removing posts that glorify criminality. But that won’t happen until there are economic or even criminal sanctions to concentrate these firms’ minds.

The bottom line for giants such as TikTok is profit – popular videos mean views and advertising, and that’s where an EU-wide initiative is required.

Media that routinely showcased criminal activity, and tacitly encouraged its perpetrators, would quickly be slapped down and penalised by regulators.

A TikTok spokesman told this newspaper at the weekend that ‘we do not allow people to use our platform to promote any form of criminal activity’.

Yesterday afternoon, when I typed ‘Ballyer’ (Ballyfermot) into my TikTok app, I could take my pick of footage of young people, in balaclavas and speeding vehicles to a soundtrack of gangster rap, doing precisely that.