AUGUST 3 — The internet has delivered the world to our fingertips, but it has also constructed a borderless arena for abuse.
According to Unicef, 30 per cent of young people across 30 countries have experienced cyberbullying. This digital violence extends far beyond mean comments; it includes targeted harassment, impersonation, the spreading of malicious rumours, and cyberstalking.
While the virtual world feels abstract, the real-world consequences are devastating. A study published in JAMA Network Open confirms that teenagers trapped in the crosshairs of cyberbullying are significantly more likely to experience severe depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation.
We are facing a public health crisis disguised as digital engagement, and lawmakers are scrambling to catch up.
Malaysia witnessed the fatal reality of this danger in 2024 with the tragic loss of social media influencer Rajeswary Appahu, widely known as Esha.
After enduring a relentless barrage of threats and abusive language, she took her own life.
Her death sparked national outrage and catalysed a long-overdue legal shift. In response, Malaysia introduced Section 507D(2) of the Penal Code, a landmark provision making online harassment that leads to self-harm, attempted suicide, or death punishable by up to 10 years in prison.
It was a powerful statement that digital actions have severe, real-world consequences. However, as crucial as this law is, punishment alone is a reactive measure—it steps in only after the damage is done.
The fuel: Anonymity, AI, and algorithms
To stop cyberbullying, we have to understand why it thrives so effortlessly on social media. A 2024 study by researchers Vladimir Nazarov and Natalya Averbukh highlights a core psychological driver: the illusion of anonymity.
Hiding behind screen names gives perpetrators a false sense of invincibility, stripping away their empathy and emboldening them to launch attacks they would never attempt in person.
Once this harmful content is released, it spreads like wildfire, reaching audiences far beyond the original target and becoming nearly impossible to erase.
The problem is being actively compounded by modern technology. Artificial intelligence now allows abusive messages to be generated, weaponised, and duplicated at an unprecedented scale, making harassment relentless.
But perhaps the most uncomfortable truth lies in the architecture of the platforms themselves. Research published in Trends in Cognitive Sciences reveals that social media algorithms are inherently designed to push emotionally charged content because outrage keeps users scrolling longer.
This forces us to ask a deeply unsettling question: Are digital platforms indirectly profiting from conflict and abuse?
The global legal patchwork
Even as the world wakes up to the severity of cyberbullying, our legal frameworks remain fragmented.
Technology moves at breakneck speed; the law simply jogs behind. While international agreements like the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child demand the psychological protection of minors, the actual enforcement is left to a chaotic patchwork of national laws.
Different countries are trying vastly different approaches. Canada, for instance, tackles the issue at the community level. Under Ontario’s Accepting Schools Act, cyberbullying is formally integrated into school disciplinary policies, recognising that digital harm almost always bleeds into the classroom.
Singapore has opted for a highly aggressive legal route. Under its Protection from Harassment Act, victims of doxxing and digital abuse can swiftly obtain court protection orders.
Furthermore, Singapore’s Online Safety Bill empowers authorities to force tech companies to remove harmful content.
Yet, the greatest legal hurdle remains the borderless nature of the internet. A malicious post can be typed in one country, routed through a server in another, and ruin a life globally within seconds.
When the harassment crosses international borders, deciding whose laws apply becomes a jurisdictional nightmare.
Rewiring our digital culture
The law can punish, but it cannot fundamentally change human behaviour. Beyond the courtroom, cyberbullying is a profound ethical failure.
From the perspective of virtue ethics, the freedom of the internet does not absolve us of our basic moral responsibilities. Good character matters just as much in a comment section as it does in a coffee shop.
Preventing cyberbullying cannot be left solely to the victims, nor can it be solved by a single piece of legislation. It requires a massive cultural shift:
First, digital education must evolve. We spend immense resources teaching children how to code and use technology, but very little time teaching them how to coexist online.
Media ethics — focusing on minimising harm, fact-checking, and taking ownership of what we share — must become a core part of modern education.
Second, tech platforms must be held accountable. Silicon Valley can no longer hide behind the defence of being neutral hosts.
Platforms must be forced to improve their moderation systems, streamline their reporting mechanisms, and fundamentally overhaul algorithms that currently reward hostility.
Ultimately, stopping cyberbullying requires us to bridge the gap between personal awareness and structural accountability.
A 10-year prison sentence is a necessary deterrent, but it will not heal a broken digital culture. Real change starts the moment we pause, think critically, and find our empathy before pressing “send.”
* Lin Xuerong and Dr Mohd Istajib Mokhtar are from the Department of Science and Technology Studies, Faculty of Science, Universiti Malaya and can be reached via [email protected]
** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.
