To get back at online trolls, just walk away

“I don’t think anyone really understands how cruel the internet is until you’re on the other side of it,” said TikTok influencer Dutch de Carvalho in a recent video.

Wrapped in a blanket, sounding perilously close to tears, he continued, “Nothing prepares you for scrolling past thousands and thousands of people saying some of the cruelest things that you’ve ever seen in your life … and I know I could just stop posting, but I feel like it’s important.”

So much to unpack in that 30 seconds of video!

There is, of course, the dramatic backstory, so annoyingly emblematic of our era. (Yup, one of their videos went viral a few days ago and got another TikToker fired … whereupon the internet retaliated by putting de Carvalho through his own taste of viral hell.) Then there’s the wounded shock at the cruelty of viral mobs — expressed by someone who just helped create one. Finally, there’s the inability to walk away from the screen.

That is, of course, a common malady — even among those who aren’t being hit by a troll brigade. But it’s particularly pernicious when dealing with trolls, because it just encourages further abuse. Perversely, almost all the things that people do to try to shut down these kinds of attacks actually ensure more of them will happen.

I’ve now been surviving troll brigades for 20 years — since before social media, even. After two decades of death threats, slander and profanity-laced suggestions that I engage in improbable sexual acts, I’ve learned there is only one effective way to respond: don’t. It’s a rigged game, and the only way to win is to ignore the invitation to participate.

Unfortunately, we’re now discouraged from telling people to do the only thing that works. Saying “ignore it” supposedly downplays the serious harm these attacks can do. It normalizes abuse. Instead, we’re supposed to expose the harm, call out the attackers and press online platforms for better moderating tools.

This is well-meant but far too optimistic. No technology filter will ever keep people from saying horrible things on the internet. Nor does it help to point out that trolling is mean.

Trolls are not misguided people who accidentally hurt your feelings. They are ragefilled narcissists who want two things: your attention and your pain. Any response just gives them what they want.

When you argue, they rejoice that you care. When you complain that it hurts, they revel in your agony. When others leap in to explain how traumatizing this all is, they’re even more satisfied — now they have everyone’s attention! The only way to punish trolls is to refuse to acknowledge they exist. Better yet, don’t care.

I understand it takes unusually thick skin, or long experience, to shrug off so many people saying such amazingly awful things. But there is a technology hack that lets you simulate not caring: Turn off social media, and if necessary, email and your phone, until the trolls run out of steam.

Trolls have the attention span of a gnat. If you go away, within a few days, they’ll get bored, and you can resume your online life as if nothing happened. Because in fact, nothing of any consequence did happen. (Obviously, we are not talking about a cancellation mob where jobs or friendships are at stake.) IKillFascistsForBreakfast451 will not be sitting across the table from you at Thanksgiving.

The only way these people matter at all is if you decide to let them.

It would, of course, be better if they stopped; it is lovely to dream of a world in which no one is ever gratuitously cruel to strangers, or where some sort of super-filter stops such nastiness before anyone can see it. But we don’t have any reliable way to make nasty jerks into better people.

In the here-and-now, the best we can do is a collective etiquette of cheerful obliviousness. It may be unsatisfying, and it’s certainly less than ideal. But it’s still better than making ourselves accomplices in their vicious work.