with Kate Laverty
Digital nonviolence: Responding to online hate without fuelling the fire
The interfaces are no longer just brick walls or painted peace lines—they are timelines, comment sections, and WhatsApp groups. In Belfast, as in so many places, the conflicts of the street are mirrored and magnified online. The click of the “share” button can escalate just as quickly as a clenched fist. A post can travel faster than a stone, and the damage can cut deeper.
We saw it this summer when young people in Ballymena were pushed to the front of riotous crowds. We have seen this recently in the wake of attacks in Connswater, Belfast, on the cars of delivery drivers. In both cases, the digital violence preceded and legitimised the physical. Hateful online comments did not just echo prejudice but gave it permission to grow.
Digital platforms are not neutral. The architecture of social media and digital surveillance can amplify division and restrict nonviolent action, creating environments where authoritarian or extremist messages gain traction. Constant use of electronic devices may impair the ability to take responsibility for conduct, manage one’s emotions, and develop strong bonds of empathy for others. Nonviolence in this space does not mean silence. Silence, in fact, can become complicity. It means choosing carefully how to respond so that we do not pour fuel on the fire. Digital nonviolence asks: What am I amplifying? Who benefits from my outrage? Whose humanity am I seeing—or refusing to see—when I respond?
Martin Luther King Jr. emphasised that nonviolence is not passive; it is active resistance to evil. It takes strength to respond with calm and understanding rather than a snarky comment or insult online. In my work, I underline the importance of seeking to win friendship and understanding, aiming for redemption and reconciliation rather than defeating individuals. In the digital realm, this means focusing on the issues and injustices at hand, not attacking the person delivering the message.
But the temptation to “clap back” is strong, especially for young people immersed in a culture of instant reaction. Yet the most powerful responses are often the ones that shift the rhythm instead of matching the beat. Sometimes that means calling out hate with humour, or choosing to spotlight kindness instead of cruelty. Sometimes it means refusing to repeat the words of hate, and instead telling the story of the people targeted.
Digital nonviolence is not only about restraining harmful responses—it can also be a powerful tool to amplify positive change. Online platforms allow individuals and communities to gain traction for causes rooted in justice, compassion, and empathy. Campaigns that spotlight human stories, mobilise volunteers, or share evidence-based solutions can create momentum without inciting anger or division.
Across the world, movements have shown how digital platforms can become instruments of nonviolent resistance. During the Arab Spring, activists in Tunisia and Egypt used Facebook and Twitter to organise peaceful demonstrations and document abuses in real time, proving that information itself can be a form of power. In the United States, the #BlackLivesMatter movement leveraged viral videos and hashtags to draw global attention to systemic injustice, turning outrage into education, advocacy, and solidarity without violence. Extinction Rebellion and digital feminist campaigns have demonstrated that online tools can coordinate lawful civil action, amplify marginalised voices, and foster international networks of support. Even under oppressive conditions, such as the pro-democracy protests in Hong Kong, encrypted messaging and online forums enabled citizens to mobilise safely and strategically.
Taken together, these examples illustrate that digital nonviolence is not passive—it is deliberate, creative, and deeply strategic, allowing communities to resist, organise, and build power without ever raising a fist. By carefully curating messages, using hashtags strategically, and engaging respectfully with audiences, nonviolent actors can turn the speed and reach of digital spaces into instruments of constructive influence. In this way, the internet becomes a stage for creative resistance, where attention is harnessed to lift voices rather than crush them.
In Belfast, community groups have already begun modelling this approach: highlighting solidarity vigils instead of hateful graffiti, amplifying the voices of young peacemakers instead of those stirring division, and teaching youth that “likes” are not worth the loss of dignity. Detached youth workers, when funded and supported, play a critical role here: standing in the gaps, reminding young people that what they post is part of who they are becoming and what they are creating for their community.
Digital nonviolence is not passive—it is creative resistance. As a nonviolent practitioner, my role is to bring awareness to this reality, to help young people recognise the structures that shape their digital behaviour, and to guide them toward choices that sustain empathy, justice, and human dignity.
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Forthspring website is at https://www.forthspring.org/
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