The Internet Never Forgets—But Should It?
Mistakes get screenshotted and immortalized, leaving people with a kind of digital scarlet letter.
Have you ever noticed how, online, we never seem to truly forgive or forget? In real life, when a friend or family member says or does something dramatic or stupid, we can often see it as being human—having a bad day, being stressed, or just making a mistake. But online, it feels different. It’s like every misstep is immortalized and brought back to haunt someone whenever it’s convenient to point fingers.
Sure, we sometimes do this in real life, but the tone online is so much harsher and far less forgiving. Why is that?
Maybe it’s because online interactions lack the nuance of real-life conversations. When we’re face-to-face, we see body language, hear tone, and understand someone’s broader context—their struggles, stressors, or even their humor. That makes it easier to extend empathy and grace. Online, though, there’s a sense of detachment. Mistakes get screenshotted and immortalized, leaving people with a kind of digital scarlet letter.
It’s also amplified by the performative nature of the internet. Online, it’s not just about resolving an issue—it’s about being seen doing so, earning likes, shares, or validation. This performative layer makes it harder for genuine understanding or forgiveness to emerge. Instead, harsh callouts and judgment become the norm, reducing people to their worst moments.
Social media seems to reward outrage and drama over empathy and resolution. And maybe that’s the root of the problem: in a place where every mistake is preserved forever, and public shaming earns attention, we lose the ability to see people as just that—people. Flawed, but human.
It’s easy to write about how we should be more forgiving online, but I’ll be the first to admit: I’m not immune to the same behavior. I’ve judged people harshly online. I’ve let someone’s worst moment shape how I see them, and I’ve felt the pull to jump into a pile-on because it feels justified in the moment. Writing this I'm not on a soapbox I am recognizing something in myself that I don’t like.
It’s hard not to get swept up in the culture of the internet. Outrage is validating. Judgment feels like justice. But the truth is, we’re flawed, and our worst moments don’t define us. I’m trying to remind myself of that, too.
So I ask myself, what if I approached people online the same way I approach the people I care about in real life? Less judgment, more grace. It’s something I’m working on, but I think we all could.