Why Are People So Rude Online?

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[00:00:02.260] - Oliver (Host)

In my normal everyday life, no one has ever told me that my voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Not once, not in a bar, not in a café, not at work. Not even when I worked in a school teaching teenagers, a group not exactly known for their kindness or diplomacy. People have made other small comments about me, of course, that I didn't love, things about my appearance or personality or skills. But no one has ever said, I dislike listening to you so much that I wish I were deaf so I didn't have to hear you. But online, that's another story. The internet seems to give people a strange superpower, not something fun like the ability to fly or to move things with your mind, but the power to say things that we would never say in real life to someone's face, and especially not to complete strangers. So the question, obviously, is why? What happens to us when we go online? That's what we're exploring today. Welcome to English and Beyond, the podcast for intermediate English learners who want clear, modern English and ideas that make you think, either because they're interesting or frankly, just a little bit weird.

[00:01:27.160] - Oliver (Host)

If there's anything that you find hard to understand in this podcast, you'll find a free transcript and free vocabulary flashcards at morethanalanguage.com. Today, we're talking about something that almost anyone who spends time online has noticed. The internet can be a surprisingly mean place. Think about everyday life for a second. Offline life, I mean. We're talking at the supermarket, at work, in a café. How often do people say something truly truly rude to your face? If you're anything like me, the answer is almost never. Most of us live in societies where politeness is the default. People might criticise you or something you've done, but it's usually softened. Have you thought about? Or, I'm not sure I would do it that way. Real nastiness is rare. But if you open up Facebook, Instagram, or even the comments under an online newspaper article, It feels like you've stepped into another universe. Under a story about a politician or a celebrity, the personal insults pile up instantly. Even on something completely ordinary, a post, for example, about recycling bins or school dinners, people are shouting at each other about government conspiracies. On Instagram, a simple selfie can attract strangers analysing someone's skin, their hair, their clothes as if they were experts, or at least as if the person posting the photo had asked for their most honest opinions.

[00:03:08.380] - Oliver (Host)

And then there's Twitter or X, as it's now called, the social network where cruelty seems almost built into the design. Every week, people announced that they're quitting because it's just too toxic, yet we keep coming back. The truth is, I think, negativity travels further than its positive counterpart. Anger sells, and outrage gets clicks. I've noticed the difference myself. I'm certainly neither a celebrity nor a politician. I don't post any controversial opinions. I mostly make podcasts about language learning, yet even I've received comments that no one would ever say to my face, like the one that I mentioned at the beginning of the podcast. Comments that have definitely hurt my feelings. And I think that that contrast between real-world politeness and online viciousness is what makes it so jarring to be online in 2025. César, who co-hosts some episodes of the advanced version of this podcast, as well as his own Spanish podcasts under the name Spanish Language Coach, gets even more of this because his audience is bigger. On his Spanish podcast, strangers comment on changes in his weight, they say he looks exhausted at the moment, or they conclude from one sentence that he must be part of some political group or other.

[00:04:34.440] - Oliver (Host)

Sometimes they call him a Communist, sometimes a fascist, occasionally both in the same week. And yet, in real life, nothing. We've met plenty of listeners at events and even in the street, and not once has someone said anything like those things to our faces, which raises the bigger point. It obviously isn't just us. If this happens around podcasts about learning a language, it's no surprise that comment sections under news articles, Instagram posts, or tweets that are potentially actually controversial are filled with the same nastiness. Almost everyone who scrolls through them sees the same pattern, a small group of people writing things that would sound genuinely bizarre, angry, and bitter if they said them out loud in a café. I think it's easy to pretend to ourselves that the internet invented public rudeness, but public criticism has been around for centuries. It just used to be slower and much more filtered. In the 18th and 19th centuries, people sometimes published letters to the editor in newspapers If you felt strongly about a political decision or a local scandal, you could write a letter, sign it with your name, and send it to the paper. But there was a catch.

[00:05:56.980] - Oliver (Host)

The editor decided whether to print it. And because the process was slow, most letters were fairly formal and reasoned. When you had to sit down and find your ink pot, find your pen, put pen to paper, and really think about what you wanted to say, suddenly For me, your feelings were more subtle. By the mid-20th century, radio phone-ins and TV debates allowed the public to comment more directly, but you still had to be selected, and there were time limits. I also think that there was more cultural shame in general about being rude or perhaps making cruel comments you couldn't really justify. Now, if you want to tell someone you hate the way they look, it takes all of 10 seconds to type and send. No stamp, no editor, no phone call, minimal moderation. You type, you click, it's out there for everyone to see. There's research showing that this speed changes our behaviour. When people respond instantly without pausing to think, their comments are more likely to be negative. If you make them delay the response by even one minute, the tone becomes more neutral. The internet, in effect, removes that pause entirely. So, why do people seem to be so negative online?

[00:07:20.180] - Oliver (Host)

Has the fact that we now communicate with the rest of the world from behind a screen made us much more cruel? Well, psychologists have studied this topic for years and there are a few main explanations I've come up with from my reading. One, online disinhibition. When we can't see someone's face when we're talking to them, like writing a comment, it's easier to forget that they're real. You don't hear the tone of their voice or see the way their expression changes when they read your words. Some researchers call it the online mask, anonymity that makes people act differently. I think also the anonymity of the comment for the person receiving it somehow makes it worse, too. If you read something online, it feels like it's come out of nowhere and just suddenly slapped you in the face. Number two, lack of tone. Written words can sound much harsher than intended. Sarcasm, humour, and irony often fail without facial expressions or voice. You are terrible, in speech, could be a joke. In text, it's just, you are terrible. Number three, negativity bias. Humans pay more attention to bad news than good news. A single negative comment can feel louder than 99 positive ones.

[00:08:42.740] - Oliver (Host)

This bias evolved as a survival skill - noticing danger kept us alive after all. But online, it makes insults echo in our heads. It means that the person reading the comments can easily lose sight of the importance of what is being said to them. Number four, Power imbalance. Commenting horrible things is very easy. Creating something, even something small, means putting in at least a bit of time and effort, and it also means exposing yourself to judgement. Some people criticise precisely because they aren't taking that risk themselves, and it's easier to diminish other people's efforts. Number five, and for me, the most interesting: a small, loud group. Studies of online news have found that most aggressive comments come from a tiny group of repeat offenders. When they send you a nasty message, they're not really focused on you personally. They behave the same way everywhere, all over the internet, commenting almost indiscriminately, almost without thinking about it. A final major point that may contribute to the explanation of our online meanness is the reality of cultural differences. The fact that the internet by its very nature international may make a big difference. In some countries, for example, parts of Northern Europe, direct criticism is considered honest and efficient.

[00:10:12.420] - Oliver (Host)

I don't like this, isn't rude, It's clear communication. In other cultures, especially those with a strong emphasis on politeness, criticism is delivered indirectly, often hidden behind softening phrases like, Maybe you could, or, I'm not sure, but. The internet mixes all of these styles together. A comment that feels neutral and fair to one person can feel very harsh to someone from a different background. And without body language or tone, misunderstandings multiply quickly. As a Brit, therefore, as someone from a country where you practically have to hold someone at gunpoint to get them to insult you to your face, unless we're drunk, I'm from the worst possible culture to have an online presence. So these are all reasons why we shouldn't take it too seriously if we read something mean online. But the reality is that knowing the psychology doesn't make you immune. Even when you understand that the comment says more about the writer than about you, it can still sting. It's embarrassing to admit it, but I have been surprisingly upset by some of the things I've read personally. It's not like I think everyone should be applauded for everything that they upload, but I think that this is a reality of our time.

[00:11:35.300] - Oliver (Host)

More and more people are working online with a public dimension, and maybe as unprepared as I was for the negativity you'll sometimes encounter. Why does it wound us? Partly, that's because you feel like it's unexpected. You're trying to offer something positive, sometimes for free. You're sharing your time, effort, and sometimes knowledge. And the vast majority of people do respond with kindness. But our brains, unfortunately, are not designed to weigh kindness and rudeness equally. We remember the rude comments for much longer. And partly, negativity hurts our feelings because being human means wanting to be liked and understood. It's maybe not weakness as such in that case. It's just social instinct. If you've ever had someone be unkind to you online, you're in good company. And if you've ever taken the time to write something encouraging, especially to a stranger, you've probably made more of a difference than you realise. Thank you for listening, and I'll see you next week.

[00:00:46.260] - Oliver (Host)

Welcome to English and Beyond, the podcast for intermediate English learners, where we try to cover unusual, perhaps slightly weird topics in clear English. Ideas to help you speak and think in a new language. I'm Oliver, an English and Spanish teacher from the UK. If there's anything that you find hard to understand about this podcast, some of the vocabulary in this episode, for example, is quite tough, then do you find the transcript and vocabulary flashcards online. They're absolutely free and they're available at www.morethanlanguage.com. Today, we're talking about something that is funny, but I'm not sure if it's funny, ha ha, or funny, kind of odd.

[00:01:32.960] - Oliver (Host)

Because in the last few years, I've noticed that we're seeing many examples of a new kind of popular show, shows about rich people, but not rich people being strong or powerful. No, rich people failing, arguing, crying, making terrible decisions, losing everything, or at least losing their dignity. And we love to see it. You might think, Oh, that's just silly entertainment. That's just TV. But I don't think it's that simple, because the same feeling, that strange satisfaction that we get, also appears when real rich people suffer. Sometimes we seem to stop feeling human empathy for these people. Sometimes we almost seem to stop seeing them as people at all. In exploring this cultural oddity, this cultural strangeness, let's start with the shows on the small screen, on television. There's Succession, a billionaire family at war with itself. They run a global media empire, they fly in private jets, and they throw parties in glass towers. But behind the money and the power, it's all bitterness, betrayal, and something many people can relate to, children desperate for their father's approval. Then, the White Lotus, rich tourists in paradise, a five-star hotel, perfect sunsets, champagne by the pool, and casual cruelty at every turn.

[00:03:13.340] - Oliver (Host)

Thoughtless guests often say exactly what they think, but with a mix of self-absorption and malice that frequently makes the honest moment reflect badly on the speaker. We wait the end of each season to see karma bring everyone what they deserve. Then, reality TV takes it even further: Selling Sunset, million-dollar mansions, agents dressed like models, and arguments straight out of high school. The Real Housewives: shouting matches, gossip, plastic surgery, and handbags that cost more than cars. Made in Chelsea: young glossy 20-somethings sighing and saying, I'm just emotionally exhausted while drinking champagne in the south of France. These shows are dramatic, they're ridiculous, and they're popular all around the world. People watch them to relax, to laugh, and maybe, just maybe, for some reason, watching them makes them feel a bit better about their own lives. But why exactly is it so satisfying? Well, first, because we see rich people as having everything, and yet they are still unhappy. These people are wealthy. They have assistants, private planes, and giant houses, but they're still miserable, still insecure, still lonely, still often pathetic, really. They cry about small, insignificant problems. They complain all the time. And that feels good for the rest of us to watch.

[00:04:55.500] - Oliver (Host)

It shows that money doesn't solve your problems. In fact, it just gives you new problems. These people's lives look perfect superficially, but inside, apparently, a disaster. And for many of us, that feels fair. That feels correct. We think, You spend more money in one day than I'll ever earn in my whole lifetime, and you're still miserable? That's not just funny, that's justice. Another reason why it's satisfying to watch them suffer is because we feel emotionally distant from them. It's easier to laugh at someone's misfortune when we don't feel connected to them. We don't feel sorry for them because they're just not like us. They inhabit a different world, a world of designer clothes, perfect teeth, and not just private schools, but private chefs and private jets. So when something bad happens to them, we don't cry, we don't look away in discomfort. We watch. It's not painful, it's entertaining. It's like watching animals in a zoo, except this cage is made of gold. And part of the appeal is that their lives are just so big. The money, the power, the opportunities - everything is on a grand scale. And when the scale is so grand, when it is so big, the stakes are higher, too.

[00:06:28.320] - Oliver (Host)

That's why Greek tragedians loved writing about heroes and why Shakespeare filled his place with monarchs. When a king makes a mistake, it shakes the whole kingdom. When a billionaire self-destructs, it ripples through companies, families, entire business empires. Their fall from grace feels larger than life. In that sense, these shows are like modern tragedies, but with some comedy woven in. Power, jealousy, betrayal, family conflict. These are the same ingredients as Athenian drama or Shakespearean theatre. But then there are the ridiculous touches, the petty arguments, the awkward dinners, the absurd outfits. We laugh, we cringe, we say, Oh, no, not again. It's tragic and it's funny at the same time, and that's exactly what makes it so addictive. The combination keeps us surprised, keeps us feeling, and and keeps us watching long after the credits roll. But so far, we've only talked about fictional wealthy people or real people who have signed up to have their lives fictionalised on these semi-reality shows. You might therefore say, It's just scripted. These people are acting. It's fine to laugh at them and their misfortune, obviously. But I would argue this strange pleasure doesn't stop when the TV turns off.

[00:08:00.000] - Oliver (Host)

You may remember that in 2023, a father and son died in a small submarine while trying to visit the Titanic alongside several other passengers. They were undoubtedly very, very rich. The trip cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. It was a terrible accident. But online, many people didn't feel sad. They made jokes. They said things like, Anyone who has enough money to do something that stupid is asking for it. This real-life tragedy, in the eyes of many ordinary people, became comedy, or at the very least, justifiable. In 2011, a school trip from Eton College, one of the most exclusive schools in the world, went to the Arctic and ended in tragedy when a polar bear attacked their camp, killing a 17-year-old student and injuring others. It was a horrific event, but the public reaction was striking. Many in the UK showed very little sympathy, saying things like, What do you expect if you send school boys camping in polar bear country? Others dismissed it as too much money and not enough sense. The privilege of an elite school adventure made the tragedy feel distant, even absurd. For some people, it therefore invited mockery rather than compassion.

[00:09:25.580] - Oliver (Host)

It's strange, isn't it? We usually feel bad when someone dies, especially a young person. But in these cases, the money may have changed some of the reaction. It's almost like it could be that the world decided, You were rich. That's enough. Even if your luck ran out here, you just don't get our sympathy. These weren't TV characters. They were real people, real deaths. But for many, the reaction was quite cold. I think that part of the reason for this reaction, part of the reason not the entire reason, was because they were rich. So what does this lack of empathy for the rich say about us in general? In many countries, even their relatively wealthy countries, life is hard. Wages are low, rent is high. The rich among us seem to float in another world. No buses, no queues, no bills keeping them awake at night. When they throw money at something ridiculous and it goes wrong, It's very tempting to laugh. For that, we can use the German word schadenfreude, the guilty pleasure of enjoying someone else's misfortune. And it doesn't apply only to the rich. We laugh at Darwin Award stories all the time. People who try ridiculous stunts, ignore obvious dangers, or make spectacularly bad decisions and die, taking themselves out of the gene pool, hence the Darwin survival of the fittest element.

[00:11:01.740] - Oliver (Host)

Part of us things, well, what did you expect? It's cruel, but it's also a way of distancing ourselves from the event. I wouldn't be that stupid, is what we think. And when the person is rich, That effect seems to multiply. Suddenly, the laughter isn't just about their foolishness, it's also about class. Their wealth becomes part of the punchline. We feel a flash of superiority. We think, Well, they may had millions, but look who's laughing now. It's a rare moment where ordinary people can feel above the wealthy, if only for a second. The danger, of course, is what happens when that instinct goes too far. If we stop seeing the rich as people, we lose empathy. We start confusing entertainment with real life. It's one thing to laugh at a millionaire crying on scripted reality TV. It's another thing to laugh at someone's death just because they were rich. We can criticise inequality. We can question the system and even want to disrupt it. But turning real suffering into comedy and losing all our empathy is a line worth noticing when we do cross it. So, why do we love watching rich people suffer? Because it's dramatic, because it feels like justice, because we're tired of seeing the rich win all the time, because sometimes it helps us feel better about our own lives.

[00:12:30.940] - Oliver (Host)

It's easy to enjoy the drama, but maybe we should think twice before laughing. Thank you for listening to English and Beyond. If you liked this episode, share it with someone who loves reality TV or someone who just has very strong opinions about the rich. See you next time.