Cyberbullying means collapse of moral code

Internet abuse is a symptom of the passing of everyday values such as kindness

CYBERBULLYING HAS been everywhere this week. It was implicated in the tragic death of an Irish teenager. It was a core element in a Canadian Supreme Court judgment regarding the right of minors to remain anonymous while trying to force internet providers to reveal the identities of cyberbullies.

It’s even a key part of the plot in JK Rowling’s new book (warning – spoilers ahead.) But probably the most discussed incident of cyberbullying this week was the fascinating, but very frightening, case of Leo Traynor.

For three years he and his wife were subjected to torrents of abuse on Twitter and elsewhere. He then began to receive objects in the mail. He is of Jewish background, and he received a Tupperware container of ashes, along with a note that said: “Say hello to your relatives from Auschwitz.” Threats against his wife followed.

He reported the matter to the Garda, but nothing happened. Then, a friend began to track the IP addresses relating to the messages.

They led straight to the 17-year-old son of a friend. The horrified parents offered to turn their son over to the police, but instead, with their help, Traynor took another route.

He pretended to bump into the family and told them his story, showing screen shots and images, without ever accusing the young man. The young man began to cry and then apologised, saying it was all meant to be a kind of game.

In a great act of generosity, the victim did not press charges, but – on condition that the young man would receive counselling – shook hands with him instead.

The story spread rapidly on the internet. Many criticised his decision, saying a 17-year-old who could target anyone so viciously needed far more than counselling.

Rowling’s new book, The Casual Vacancy, also features the devastating effects of internet attacks. Sukhinder, a gentle Sikh girl, is being systematically bullied by a repellent character, Stuart Wall, known as Fats, who has abandoned all kindness or empathy in a quest for “authenticity”.

She has some facial hair, and his chosen method of attack is constant posting of images of hirsutism on her Facebook page. He spends time researching images like one of a Victorian child covered in soft brown hair.

Sukhinder begins to self-harm. Like many victims, she is inexorably drawn to her Facebook page, and cannot force herself to stop checking it.

Critics have been harsh about Rowling’s book, but whether it is great fiction or not, she provides a horribly realistic glimpse into the lives of unhappy adolescents. But as Leo Traynor’s story demonstrates, such experience is by no means confined to teens.

There have always been malicious people who take delight in the pain of others.

What is frightening about the internet is that seemingly ordinary people can post desperately cruel comments and images, without seeming to feel the slightest twinge of guilt-inducing empathy.

The all-too-real story of Leo Traynor and that of the fictional Sukhinder have one thing in common. In both cases, the victim is well-known to the attacker, and the attacks do not just take place in cyberspace.

In a maths classroom, Fats quietly intones: “The great hermaphrodite sits quiet and still . . . moustachioed, yet large mammaried, scientists remain baffled by the contradictions of the hairy man-woman.” He is indifferent to the fact she will hear him and know he is the online troll.

Later in the book, he uses the name “The Ghost of Barry Fairbrother” to post allegations that are as damaging as possible about people he knows, including his own adoptive father.

Disturbingly, it is almost the natural outgrowth of the permission he gives himself to be “authentic”. He also chooses the name of one of the few decent, kind people in the book, thereby deliberately subverting all the values represented by the recently deceased Barry Fairbrother.

Until recently, I believed the problem was that the almost routine cruelty of the internet had leached into everyday life, causing a coarsening of communication.

I believed people would never say things directly to people that they would say anonymously on the internet.

Then I had a few experiences where people said to my face exactly the same kinds of things that are said in the relative privacy of the internet.

I now think there has been a collapse of everyday values such as kindness and consideration, and that internet abuse is a kind of festering outgrowth of that collapse: in other words, a symptom rather than a cause.

It is part of a destructive moral code that celebrates winners and derides losers, and believes contempt is a perfectly legitimate response to another human being.

That is why the Canadian case is so important. A 15-year-old girl (now 17) wanted the right to force an internet provider to reveal the identities of people who faked a page about her on Facebook and posted obnoxious sexual material.

She wanted to preserve her privacy by enforcing a ban on the media revealing her identity. The Supreme Court found her right as a minor to protection outweighed the rights of the media to report.

She can now pursue her bullies, and hopefully unmask them and get them charged. Leo Traynor chose to forgive, and is to be applauded for that.

However, for others, the slide into casual, ruthless destructiveness will not be halted until perpetrators are forced to face the legal consequences of their actions.