Who are the trolls?

What we know about the men (and sometimes women) who spend their days trying to provoke a reaction on the internet.

What's the best definition of an internet troll? Here are two I like:

“A computer user who constructs the identity of sincerely wishing to be part of the group in question … but whose real intention is to cause disruption and/or trigger conflict for the purposes of their own amusement.”

--- Dr Claire Hardaker, academic researcher

The less famous of two people in a Twitter argument.                                                                                                            

--- @ropestoinfinity

Between them, they catch the complexity of the huge, sprawling phenomenon we've come to call trolling. For, as pedants will tell you, the name originally meant someone whose activities were irritating, but essentially harmless: one Guardian commenter confessed in a thread asking trolls to out themselves that he spent his time on Christian websites, calling Herbie: Fully Loaded blasphemous, because it involved a talking car. 

Now, the term is used much more broadly, to mean anyone who enrages, disrupts or threatens people over the internet. It's usually assumed that there is a simple power dynamic at work - good people get trolled by bad people. (The media loves this, because a campaign against a faceless, anonymous group that no one will admit to being a part of is the easiest campaign you'll ever run.) But it's not that easy. When a famous comedian gets mild abuse on Twitter, and retweets it to his followers, encouraging them to pile on, who's more at fault? If a person has ever said anything rude or offensive against about another person online, do they lose their right to complain about trolls?

The academic Claire Hardaker has proposed a useful taxonomy of trolls:

RIP trolls, who spend their time causing misery on memorial sites;

fame trolls, who focus all their energies on provoking celebrities;

care trolls, who purport to see abuse in every post about children or animals;

political trolls who seek to bully MPs out of office; and many others besides.

To these I would add two more: first, subcultural trolls - or "true" trolls - the ones who trawl forums full of earnest people and derail their conversations with silly questions, or hackers like "weev" who really work at being awful (he was involved with a troll collective known as the "Gay Nigger Association of America" and a hacking group called "Goatse Security"). And second, "professional trolls" or "trollumnists": writers and public figures like Samantha Brick and Katie Hopkins whose media careers are built on their willingness to "say the unsayable"; or rather, say something which will attract huge volumes of attention (albeit negative) and hits.

Although there is still relatively little research into trolling - I would recommend Hardaker's work if you are interested, along with that of US academic Whitney Phillips - we can begin to see a few patterns emerging.

Most of the high profile prosecuted cases in Britain have been of young men: 19-year-old Linford House, who burned a poppy in protest at "squadey cunts"; 25-year-old Sean Duffy, who posted offensive words and images on the Facebook sites of dead teenagers; 21-year-old Liam Stacey, who tweeted racist abuse about Fabrice Muamba while the footballer lay prone and close to death on the pitch; 17-year-old Reece Messer, who was arrested after telling Olympic diver Tom Daley "I'm going to drown you in the pool you cocky twat". Messer suffered from ADHD, and Duffy from a form of autism.

The stereotypical profile doesn't fit all abusive trolls, of course. Frank Zimmerman, who emailed Louise Mensch "You now have Sophie’s Choice: which kid is to go. One will. Count on it cunt. Have a nice day", was 60 when he was prosecuted in June 2012. (Zimmerman was an agoraphobic with mental health issues, which the judge cited when ruling that he would not face a custodial sentence.) Megan Meier committed suicide after being sent unpleasant messages by a Facebook friend called "Josh". Josh turned out to be Lori Drew, the mother of one of her friends.

Sub-cultural trolls often share a similar profile to abusive trolls: young, male and troubled. I asked Adrian Chen, the Gawker writer who has unmasked several trolls such as Reddit's Violentacrez (moderator of r/chokeabitch and r/niggerjailbait), if he had seen any common traits in the sub-cultural trolls he had encountered. He said:

These trolls are predominantly younger white men, although of course trolls of all gender/race/age exist (one of the trolls that has been popping up in my feed recently is Jamie Cochran aka "AssHurtMacFags" a trans woman from Chicago). They're bright, often self-educated. A lot seem to come from troubled backgrounds. They seem to come from the middle parts of the country [America] more than urban centers. 

There's this idea that trolls exist as Jekyll-and-Hyde characters: that they are normal people who go online and turn into monsters. But the biggest thing I've realised while reporting on trolls is that they are pretty much the same offline as online. They like to fuck with people in real life, make crude jokes, get attention. It's just that the internet makes all this much more visible to a bigger audience, and it creates a sort of feedback loop where the most intense parts of their personality are instantly rewarded with more attention, and so those aspects are honed and focused until you have the "troll" persona... I don't think you ever have a case where you show someone's real-life friends what they've been doing online and they would be completely surprised.

The issue of gender is worth raising, because although men and women are both targeted by abusive trolls, they seem to find women - particularly feminists - more fun to harass. When there are group troll attacks, male-dominated forums such as Reddit's anti-feminist threads or 4Chan's /b/ board are often implicated. The use of the spelling "raep" in several of the threats sent to Caroline Criado-Perez, and the words "rape train" suggest an organised, subcultural element, and Anita Sarkeesian reports that "Coincidentally whenever I see a noticeable uptick in hate and harassment sent my way there's almost always an angry reddit thread somewhere."

Just as there are social networks, so there are anti-social networks, where those who want to harass a given target can congregate. That has an important bearing on any idea of moderating or policing one network: it's harder to clean up Twitter when a co-ordinated attack on a tweeter can be arranged on another forum.

As for why would anyone do this? Well, anonymity is the reason that's usually given, but as Tom Postmes, a researcher at the University of Groningen, says: "It’s too simple, too straightforward, to say it turns you into an animal. In all the research online that we know of, anonymity has never had that effect of reducing self-awareness.” He suggests it might be more to do with the lack of consequences: after all, what percentage of people would steal, or lie, or drop litter, or if they knew they would not caught? 

Other researchers point to "disinhibition", where people feel less restrained and bound by social norms because they're communicating via a computer rather than face to face. Psychologist John Suller broke this down in a 2004 paper into several aspects, which Wired summarised as:

Dissociative anonymity ("my actions can't be attributed to my person"); invisibility ("nobody can tell what I look like, or judge my tone"); asynchronicity ("my actions do not occur in real-time"); solipsistic Introjection ("I can't see these people, I have to guess at who they are and their intent"); dissociative imagination ("this is not the real world, these are not real people"); and minimising authority ("there are no authority figures here, I can act freely").

Finally, US researcher Alice Marwick has a simple, if sad, answer for why online trolling exists:

"There’s the disturbing possibility that people are creating online environments purely to express the type of racist, homophobic, or sexist speech that is no longer acceptable in public society, at work, or even at home.”

If that's true, the abusive trolls are a by-product of how far we've come. Is that any comfort to their victims? I don't know. 

The "trollface" meme.

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

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The Pill pushback

The contraceptive pill helped liberate women when it arrived in the UK in the 1960s. Now, spurred by experiences shared online and a spate of new fertility apps, many are turning their backs on it.  

Six weeks before her final exams, Claire* was looking forward to the end of university and a summer of travelling. By the time the first exam arrived, something had drastically changed. “I called my mum sobbing and told her there was no way I could take the exams,” she tells me now, several years later. “I hadn’t done even an hour's worth of revision. I just ate and slept and cried without understanding why.”

Claire’s GP at university diagnosed stress, yet on her planned trips abroad, nothing improved. “I was plagued by panic attacks. I felt like the world was crashing down on me.” On her return home, she visitedher local GP, who, unlike the previous doctor, immediately asked if she was on contraception. It was then that Claire made the link: a month and a half before her exams, she was first prescribed Cerazette, a common progesterone-only contraceptive pill.

The GP explained that depression is a known side effect of Cerazette, and she had seen it in other patients before. “She told me to stop taking it immediately. Within a week, the numbness began to lift and I felt my personality coming back. I felt hope for the first time in months.”

Claire is off the pill now, and in the past, this would have been the end of the story – especially since her GP “refused” to report her side effects to the yellow card scheme, which is used to collect information on medication’s unwelcome side effects.

But over the past decade or so, those who have experienced side effects – I’ll refer to “women” from here for clarity, but these issues can affect anyone with a uterus – like Claire have begun sharing their tales of contraceptive woe across forums, blogs, and social media.

#MyPillStory, a hashtag begun earlier this month, aggregated Twitter users’ tales of pill disaster, from blood clots to personality changes. It makes for spine-tingling reading – especially for anyone who pops their own pill daily. Depression, anxiety, and an affected sex drive crop up in scores of the posts, while handfuls of woman say they experienced blood clots, strokes, acne, swollen legs, chest pains, nausea… the list goes on.

Of course, the problem with this type of “data” is that, well, it isn’t. The medical profession’s denial of women’s experiences is usually badly handled, is often unjust and unfounded, but can also be correct. A medication you take for years of your life will, necessarily, coincide with other health problems. It’s incredibly difficult to establish causation in many of these cases.

I fantasise about stopping the Pill and having normal periods

Meanwhile, anecdotal stories can cause panics, and more problems than they solve. A scare around blood clots and pills containing Gestodene and Desogestrel in 1995 led to an estimated £21m cost in maternity care and £46m in abortion provision, as many frightened women went off contraception altogether. As a result, women’s use of oral contraception fell from 40 per cent to 27 per cent between 1995 and 1997.

Sarah Kipps, a nurse and contraception specialist with the National Union of Students, tells me there’s a danger that some women assume that generic “symptoms of life” are pill-related: “If you ask people on no medication what their symptoms are, they’ll have tiredness and headaches. This mirrors what some people say about the pill.” This is backed up by studies which show that around a quarter of study participants who have taken a placebo report side effects.

And yet women who do experience side effects are simply told to change their medication – which may explain why social media as a platform to share their stories has proved so attractive. These side effects scare women off hormonal contraception altogether, which, whether wise or unwise, is as much a product of an under-resourced sexual health system that tends to dismiss female pain as the health problems themselves.

I spoke to 20 women in depth about coming off the pill, and the choices they made afterwards. They added to the mix of stories about contraception clashing badly with anti-depressants, poor advice from doctors, unwanted pregnancies after coming off the pill, and an endless quest to find a method of contraception that actually works. The idea of choice was a key element: in a society increasingly concerned with wellness and what we put in our bodies, a daily dose of hormones begins to look less and less attractive.

As one woman told me, “As silly as I know this would be, I fantasise about stopping the pill and having normal periods, like a character in a Philippa Gregory nove.” Now, women can opt for different types of pills with different doses of hormones (WebMD has a good rundown), hormonal and non-hormonal coils which are inserted into the cervix, or injections. You can also, of course, opt for nothing at all.

***

Data shows that the use of oral contraceptives as a percentage of contraceptive methods has remained largely stable over the past decade. Tellingly, though, figures from sexual and reproductive health services also show a sharp upturn in Long Action Reversible Contraception, such as coils and implants, since 2010. Arm implants contain the lowest doses of hormones available, while non-hormonal coils are also available. The data shows the contraceptive choices of women who have visited sexual and reproductive health services (not including GP surgeries or pharmacies) during a certain year, so while they show trends, they don't represent the whole UK population of women. 

Lois is one of those datapoints. While at university she experience “horrific migraines”, a common side effect of high-oestrogen birth controls she was taking. As a result, she opted for the non-hormonal coil, a T-shaped device inserted into the uterus: “It’s good for ten years, and the lack of hormones meant that I no longer got migraines from my birth control. I don’t ever have to think about it, unless I’m telling someone about how great it is.”

Perhaps the most interesting figure of all in this data comes under the heading “natural family planning” – or, in common parlance, unsafe sex. It hasnt topped 1 per cent over the past decade, but the numbers have increased over tenfold, from 500 women who visited sexual and reproductive health services in 2004/5 to 7,700 in 2014/15. (It’s worth noting that data collection methods have changed slightly over this period, which could partially account for the change.)

In the past, this decision may have been borne of religious convictions, but my interviewees suggest that secular women are using this method too. They are helped by fertility apps, which allow women to estimate the most fertile days of their cycle and take precautions accordingly.

Sarah, a sex blogger, quit the pill after reading a blogpost by a woman who, like Claire, escaped a cycle of depression and anxiety only when she went pill-free. She had noticed a decreased sex drive, and wanted to know what life without contraceptive medication would be like.

“I honestly didn’t realise how bad I felt until I started feeling better,” Sarah tells me now. “I was feeling depressed, but I never thought it had to do with the pill. Neither my therapist nor my psychiatrist ever brought it up.” Now, Claire uses condoms, but also a period monitoring app, Clue, so she knows to avoid penetrative sex on her most fertile days.

Natural Cycles is another such app that uses temperature measurements to predict fertility and marks days red, yellow or green depending on how safe it is to have sex. It recently hit headlines when a study claimed it is as effective as the pill when used correctly, based on a study of 4,023 Swedish women. Professor Kristina Gemzell, one of the authors of the study, said: “More and more women, especially in the age group of 20-30, tend to abstain from hormonal contraception and desire a hormone-free alternative. It is important to increase choice among contraceptives for women and inform them about their pros and cons.”

There's a complacency around contraception

Unsurprisingly, these claims, and the publicity around them, are worrying for those working in sexual health and family planning. Dawn Stacey, a contraceptive expert and professor, tells me that she would guess the app is “not as effective as the pill”. This is based on the fact that the app suggests users log their temperature to monitor fertility, while nurses use a minimum of three indicators to predict fertility, including the consistancy of the cervical mucus and position of the cervix. Fertility planning was once taught in clinics, but is now thought of as too complex and risky - nurses would monitor a woman's fertility for two or three months before hazarding a guess at a pattern.

“Plus, there are other factors that could impact determining your fertility,” Stacey adds. “Many women don't have regular cycles until their mid-20s and ovulation can be impacted by stress, lack of sleep, or being sick. it doesn't look like the app takes any of that into consideration.”

Sarah Kipps, a contraceptive nurse, adds that this type of natural planning “involves a lot of abstinence – you could be fertile for five days in a month”. In her eyes, "there's a kind of complacency around contraception” as the pill’s introduction in the 1960s becomes a distant memory. 

“People come in and see us, and they want to be natural. But natural means pregnancy. If you don’t get on with the pill, come and have a chat in the clinic – there are lots of other alternatives. If you don’t want to have children, you have to defeat biology. The pill defeated biology, but now there’s a backlash against it.” 

Dr Raoul Scherwitzl, co-founder of the Natural Cycles app, says that temperature is “enough…to confirm that ovulation has happened” and that the app responds to irregular cycles, adding extra "red days" to "cover the uncertainty around the irregularities". 

Despite the risk, some women see this “natural” contraception as a way of reclaiming control. This seems especially common among women who went on the pill early and are now questioning its effects on their bodies.

Yara went on the pill aged 15, “because I went to the doctor with an irregular period. Looking back I'm pretty sure it's because I was underweight, but the doctor didn't spot that and put me on the pill. After that I felt pressured by boyfriends.” Within the past few years she went off the pill, then got an implant, and now uses a combination of the Clue app and condoms. “Clue is awesome,” she says. “It makes me feel in control of my body and tells me when I’m fertile. I’d be open to using it alone, except for my concerns about STIs.” Since coming off the pill, she has had a “massive mood boost”.

***

One woman told me she saw the pill as “the lesser of several evils”, which is probably a good expression of most women’s view of their choice of contraception.

There’s an ingrained, insurmountable biological unfairness throughout the contraception debate, since women, even as we near an age of male pills and longer-term contraceptive options for men, bear the brunt of the decisions, health effects and stress around contraception.

Marie* went off the pill following dramatic mood swings, but now, her new boyfriend is “a bit less forgiving” when it comes to using condoms. “He’s really keen that I use something else, so I’m currently looking.”

Zoe* started out using Cerazette in 2012, which she says sent her “a bit loopy”, tried the coil, which was “incredibly painful”, then returned to the pill. Her boyfriend was unwilling to use condoms, and throughout, “I certainly felt that finding the right method of contraception was in my hands only, not a shared endeavour.”

These long, winding medical histories, reeled off at a moment’s notice, are common among women who use contraception. In this sense, to be fertile is a health condition which many women struggle with for much of their lives.

Meanwhile, society contains a frustrating contradiction. Women’s bodies are mythologised and sexualised, and yet discussion of their intimate workings are taboo in many forums. In 2010, a student at Dartmouth College in the US handed out nearly 2,000 hand mirrors to women so they could see their own genitalia, perhaps for the first time. A student paper called her campaign “disrespectful” to women of faith – and yet one has to wonder what motivates a religion to hide a woman's genitalia from its owner. Other students, meanwhile, saw the mirrors as an “in-your-face show of sexual profligacy”. 

Meanwhile, we ask women to make decisions about their uteruses which could affect their mental and physical health for years to come, based on a dearth of support and information which begins in the schoolroom and continues in the doctor’s office. “I was just shown some leaflets” was a common refrain among the women I spoke to. The online movement around contraception is a sign that advice and guidance serves aren’t working offline. 

So what’s the solution? Perhaps the most positive story I heard throughout this research came at the conclusion of one of the most distressing. Lisa*, whose pill interfered with her anti-depressants, eventually decided to get a coil. “My GP, who I don’t think had ever put in a coil before, tried to install a coil and did it wrong. It was one of the most traumatic medical experiences I have had – even as someone who lived in and out of hospital for two years for other reasons.”

She then found the Margaret Pyke Centre, a contraceptive and reproductive clinic in King’s Cross. The centre offers one-on-one appointments where women can discuss their decision, and Lisa says they “took me through all my options, with models [of the coil] which i could play with and loads of proper information”.

She opted for the coil again, which surprised me given her previous experiences – even a standard coil insertion procedure can range from uncomfortable to painful. So what changed her mind? “If you go to Margaret Pyke on your own for the operation, there is quite literally someone there to hold your hand.”

In an age of shrinking health budgets and ever-more confused messaging around women’s bodies, safe contraception chosen by women with access to all the information should be a right, not a privilege. Meanwhile, continued research into the pill's side effects should be a much higher priority, as the hormonal dosages may be lower, but the drugs have developed little since the 1960s. The male contraceptive pill has been hampered in its development by the fact that 63 per cent of men say they wouldn't take it if it caused side effects like weight gain and acne; side effects which most women would consider par for the course, compared to the far worse effects some experience.

The pill and the general normalisation of contraception in the UK helped shrink families, ratchet up gender equality, and increase prosperity across the second half of the twentieth century. Yet since then, progress seems to have slowed to a crawl.

“The lack of research into contraception’s side effects is unreal,” Yara says. “But it’s such a fundamental part of being a human with a uterus. To be able to not be pregnant.”

*Most names have been changed.

For advice on contraception, try your local GP surgery, the Family Planning Association, or specialist sexual health and contraceptive services, a list of which can be found here

You can join the fight to save the Margaret Pyke Centre here

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.