The protective mechanisms that once kept us safe are the same ones social media now exploits

“I’ve Got Some Real Bad News for You!!!”

You might have just felt the pull, haven’t you? That little jolt, that flicker of alarm or urgent curiosity. It’s a feeling I know all too well, especially when I’m scrolling through YouTube, as I often do. My feed, like many others, is increasingly filled with titles that seem to weigh down the very airwaves with fear and urgency — and the images beside them promise one thing, but often fail to match what actually unfolds.

The video was recent — it had been made about a week earlier, as far as I could tell. It claimed the war in Iran had ended, with President Trump supposedly announcing peace on his birthday. My immediate reaction? Pure relief. “Finally — some good news!” I thought. But the more I listened, the more something felt off. When I tried to find it again, it was gone.

The timing matters. Trump did announce an agreement intended to end the war on 14 June 2026, his birthday, but that agreement was not a settled, lasting peace. The Congressional Research Service reported in September that the memorandum of understanding had collapsed amid renewed fighting. More recent reporting on 21 and 27 October still described negotiations and unresolved conditions for ending the war, rather than a completed peace agreement (CBS News, 21 October; Reuters, 27 October). I could not retrieve the particular video, so I cannot independently establish whether it was AI-generated, reused earlier footage, or misleadingly edited. But if a recently made video presented the war as already over, that claim did not match the reporting available at the time.

It shook me. What caught my eye first was positive news — yet the sobering, more complicated reality pulled me back to examine the claim. And that’s when I noticed the deeper pattern: more often than not, it is the negative headlines that seem to hold the strongest pull.

Look at what fills our feeds:

• “TOTAL MELTDOWN!” — a shouting headline, a map coloured for drama, a face of despair — all designed to make you stop and stare.

• “GET OUT MY HOUSE” / “YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME” — raw conflict, broken glass, screaming — scenes that feel like drama, not news, yet we click anyway.

These are not rare examples. They are everywhere: “They got exactly what they deserved.” “See how it all fell apart.” They are seductive, triggering, and can be designed to bypass our pause button. We become like fish in a pond — drawn in by the bright, frantic lure — hooked before we’ve even asked: Is this true?

Which brings us to the two questions I keep turning over:

Why do we click on these things so quickly? And why do the pictures so often lie?

The Research Backs Up the Problem

Recently, I was exploring this very subject using an application I’ve been developing called the “Research Workbench.” I put in the question: “How does this negativity affect us, and what’s the evidence?” An article caught my eye, highlighting a significant study published in Nature Human Behaviour.

This study, by Claire E. Robertson and colleagues, examined a very large dataset. The researchers analysed 22,743 randomised controlled trials and around 105,000 headline variations, generating nearly 5.7 million clicks from more than 370 million impressions. The study used online news headlines from Upworthy.com. Read the study here.

And the findings are striking:

For a headline of average length, each additional negative word increased the click-through rate by approximately 2.3%. The researchers also found that positive words reduced click-through rates by around 1% per word for an average-length headline.

This is more than a simple correlation. In the conditions studied, negative wording had a measurable causal effect on whether people clicked. The finding is consistent with the broader idea often called “negativity bias” — our tendency to attend closely to negative or potentially threatening information. But the study specifically measured headline wording and clicks; it did not, by itself, prove every explanation for why the effect occurs, or establish that the same effect will apply in exactly the same way to every social platform or YouTube thumbnail.

The results raise an important question. If negative language can make a headline more likely to be clicked, what happens when the pursuit of clicks becomes an important incentive for those producing the content?

This suggests that we may all be vulnerable to some degree to the horrific, the bad-news hook, or the misleading claim that pulls us towards a particular way of thinking. I worry that this can also shape the religious, political and ideological assumptions through which we interpret reality. When recommendation systems repeatedly serve us material similar to what we already watch or engage with, they may reinforce our existing habits. But this headline study did not itself demonstrate that negative wording creates echo chambers, and recommendation systems are more complicated than a single mechanism that forces us into a cycle.

YouTube, for example, describes its recommendations as personalised and based on several signals, including viewing history, clicks, how long people watch, and their feedback. Its stated aims also include relevance and long-term viewer satisfaction. You can read its explanation of YouTube’s recommendation system.

And this raises a critical question: if negative headlines have a disproportionate pull on clicks, might we be missing out on something substantially good for our well-being when we overlook calmer, less sensational or more uplifting content?

My own concern is that this susceptibility towards bad news, amplified by the appeal of sensational titles, may lead us to spend more time with content that promotes fear and stress than with content that offers beauty, goodness and truth. I suspect there may be a wider social cost to our well-being, although that is a further question rather than something this headline study directly measures.

In essence, the research shows that negative wording can be an effective driver of online news consumption. It is not just my imagination — the effect is measurable. The question is how that tendency is used, and whether the pursuit of engagement can come to matter more than the accuracy or substance of what is presented.

The Protective Mechanism Within

Of course, nobody wants to be hurt, damaged, or put into a place of fear. We want to look after our families, our friends, and the communities we belong to. In a world that can feel complicated and overwhelming, it’s natural that we would be sensitive to anything that seems to offer advice, draw our attention, or pull our heads out of the sand, shouting, “Behold! Look! Danger! Danger! Danger!” This instinct to protect ourselves and our loved ones is fundamental.

But that protective response can also be exploited. In our modern world, media and technology can be used not only to inform or guide us, but also to attract popularity, advertising revenue, influence and ideological support. This makes us vulnerable precisely because the mechanisms involved can be useful in genuine situations of danger.

We are not weak for responding quickly to danger — there is a good reason for being alert to possible threats. In a dangerous situation, speed may matter more than nuance; hesitation can carry a cost. Our responses to fear, alarm and signs that something is wrong can be fast. They can serve us well. Today, though, that same response can become a handle that is pulled again and again to capture and hold our attention.

The pull towards darkness is not something only outside us — it answers to something deep inside us. What once helped us notice danger can also keep us clicking, particularly when a headline or image has been shaped to meet that instinct exactly where it lives. And if words can pull us this strongly, images can add another layer to the first impression — sometimes before we have considered what the image actually shows.

When the Image Doesn’t Match

We are driven and drawn by what we see. In my own creative work, I’ve recently begun generating images to accompany my videos — like album covers — sometimes leaning negative, sometimes positive. And I am acutely aware: if I wanted maximum attention, I could manufacture headlines and thumbnails that are sensational, exaggerated, or simply do not represent what the content actually is. I could exploit this very loophole.

But it would not feel true. It would misrepresent what I want to achieve through my work. I want my images to celebrate life, to bring beauty, truth, well-being, and flourishing. Will that make me popular? Probably not — because I refuse to buy into the culture of negation that dominates so much of what we see. Yet this choice stands against a powerful current, and understanding how images influence us helps explain why such mismatches can be tempting.

The Illusion of Truth by Ease

Research by Eryn J. Newman and Norbert Schwarz examines how images influence attention, comprehension, memory and judgement — sometimes without our realising it. An image that seems related to a claim can make the information easier to process and, in some circumstances, more convincing. That does not mean the image proves the claim. Read the review in Current Opinion in Psychology.

The authors distinguish five relationships between images and claims: probative, slanted, repurposed, fake, and decorative. A probative image provides evidence for the claim. A slanted image may be genuine but invite a misleading inference. A repurposed image is taken from a different event or context. A fake image may be altered or generated to support a false claim. A decorative image may fit the subject but provide no actual evidence for it.

That distinction matters. A picture can match the tone of a headline without establishing its truth. A genuine photograph can still mislead if it is taken from a different event or presented in a way that gives a distorted impression. An image does not have to be fabricated to be misleading.

Where creators compete for clicks and reach, emotionally striking images can be tempting. Recommendation systems also use a range of audience signals, and their workings differ between platforms. It would be too strong to say that every platform simply rewards the most negative image, or that every mismatch between thumbnail and content is deliberate. But the incentive to attract attention is real, and in some cases it may encourage creators to stretch the truth of what their content actually contains.

Fear as the Amplifier

And when fear enters the frame, the shortcut sharpens. We may respond before we stop to ask why. This is what I call the “memory response” — a habitual, knee-jerk reaction that can arise before deliberate evaluation has properly begun. It is not critical thought; it is an automatic response that may come first.

The negativity study shows that negative wording can increase clicks. In my observation, fear is one of the sharpest triggers of all — it propels us towards the click before our judgement has fully engaged. That is my interpretation of the experience, not a claim that the study measured every person’s emotional response to a headline.

Operating in the Shadows

What makes this difficult to guard against is that some influence happens outside our awareness. Newman and Schwarz note that misleading images can shape attention and judgement in ways that are not always obvious to the viewer. Because we may not notice the influence taking hold, we may not know what to question in the moment.

That does not mean critical thinking is useless. It means the first impression may have already been shaped before we consciously examine it. If this influence can be difficult to recognise, it is worth asking what incentives encourage the use of material that captures our attention so effectively.

The Incentive to Exploit

One of the most important rules of life, especially when dealing with bias, groups, ideologies, politics, or even religion — anything that structures human beings and their actions — is to follow the money, or indeed, follow the power. Both can be important drivers, often intertwined, but capable of operating independently. Money can amplify power, and power can accrue wealth, but one does not always necessitate the other. Understanding incentives can help us ask why something is being done, who benefits, and who is promoting a particular direction. It is an obvious question, but one worth asking.

The same question can arise in politics. Parties make promises about money, security, identity and influence, and voters weigh those promises in different ways. It would be too simple to suggest that people vote only for financial rewards or power. My point is narrower: whenever a message appeals to our interests or fears, it is worth asking what is being offered, who benefits, and what evidence or trade-offs we have been shown.

In the context of media and online content, this question becomes particularly relevant. When clicks, viewing time and visibility are tied to engagement, and negative wording can increase clicks, creators have an incentive to test and use headlines that attract attention. The incentive may involve financial gain, audience growth or ideological influence. That does not mean every creator is deliberately misleading people, or that every recommendation system is designed solely to keep us hooked. It does mean the system can reward attention-grabbing presentation, even when the presentation offers less accuracy or substance than the viewer expects.

Nothing New Under the Sun

There is truly nothing new under the sun. If we look back at Rome around two thousand years ago, we will not find the same tools, but we can find familiar questions about how spectacle, public provision and political power shape public life.

The phrase panem et circenses — “bread and circuses” — comes from the Roman satirist Juvenal’s Satire 10. Juvenal criticised the people of Rome as having narrowed their public desires to food and entertainment. It is a satirical image, not a neutral survey proving that all Roman citizens were passive or that every ruler used spectacle for the same purpose. Still, it has endured because it captures a concern about public attention: what happens when immediate provision and entertainment displace wider questions about power and responsibility?

Public grain distributions were a prominent feature of Roman political life. After the Great Fire of Rome in AD 64, the historian Tacitus records that Nero opened public buildings and his own gardens to shelter people, arranged supplies, and lowered the price of grain. Tacitus also notes that these actions failed to dispel suspicions and rumours about Nero’s conduct during the fire. We should not present the relief effort as proof that Nero was simply trying to manipulate the crowd; the historical account is more complicated than that. The episode does, however, show how public actions, public perception and claims about motive can diverge. See Tacitus, Annals, Book 15, chapter 39.

Later, Cassius Dio described Trajan staging public spectacles on 123 days, during which 10,000 gladiators fought. The scale of these events reminds us that spectacle was a major part of public life in imperial Rome. But it would be an overstatement to claim that entertainment alone kept the people passive. The comparison is more useful as a reminder that political power, public attention and mass entertainment have long existed alongside one another. See the source excerpt from Cassius Dio, Roman History 68.15.1.

This pattern appeared again with the arrival of the printing press. It widened access to knowledge and made it possible for ideas to travel further and faster — but it also gave controversy, polemic and propaganda new means of reaching an audience. Nowhere is this double-edged effect clearer than in the Reformation.

The printing and distribution of vernacular Bibles helped transform how many Christians encountered Scripture. Yet it would be misleading to suggest that ordinary people had previously been entirely excluded from the Bible, or that printing simply transferred interpretive authority from the Church to the individual. Scripture had long been encountered through worship, devotional material and other forms of religious instruction. What changed was the scale and character of access, alongside the intensified struggle over who had the authority to interpret and explain what was read. For further context, see David Bagchi’s discussion of printing, propaganda and public opinion in Luther’s time and Lucy Wooding’s work on encountering Scripture in early Tudor England.

That change brought both renewal and conflict. Printed pamphlets and religious arguments allowed competing interpretations to circulate rapidly, while polemical exchanges deepened divisions. Religious convictions became entangled with political authority and social conflict, sometimes with violent consequences. The same technology that helped people encounter new ideas also made it easier for competing claims, inflammatory arguments and religious propaganda to reach a wider public. The University of Chicago Library’s account of religious controversy in the age of Martin Luther and Andrew Pettegree’s chapter on pamphlets and persuasion offer useful historical context.

The lesson is not that wider access to knowledge inevitably corrupts truth. It is that access alone does not guarantee understanding, discernment or freedom from manipulation. When more voices can reach an audience, we gain new opportunities to examine ideas for ourselves — but we also face a greater need to distinguish thoughtful argument from messages designed to secure our allegiance.

Radio and television brought the world into our homes and gave fear, drama and emotional appeals new ways to reach people. The internet and social media have not created this human dynamic, but they have made it possible for messages to circulate at extraordinary speed and scale.

Long before screens, the apostle Paul warned Timothy: “For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths.” (2 Timothy 4:3–4, ESV). This is not simply a technology problem — it is a human one. And Gustave Le Bon observed a related danger: he argued that an idea could lose much of what made it great when it entered the intellectual range of crowds and exerted influence upon them. I take this as a warning about the pressure to simplify or reshape ideas to gain an audience, not proof that every popular idea loses its truth. What begins in the mind of a creator can be worn down into something easier, louder and more satisfying — sometimes at the cost of its original substance.

We are not facing something entirely new. We are looking at an old human vulnerability, now channelled through brighter images, faster delivery and sharper hooks. The question is not whether this has always been so — it is whether we will recognise it and choose differently.

The Pause Before We Click

We have journeyed through how negativity can grip our attention, how images can shape our first impressions, and how the incentives surrounding content can reward emotional appeal. From the “bread and circuses” of ancient Rome to the printing press and the Reformation, the historical examples show that greater reach does not automatically bring greater discernment. Each comparison has its limits, but they raise a shared question about the relationship between attention, influence and judgement.

The research suggests that negative wording can increase clicks and that images can influence attention, comprehension and judgement, sometimes outside awareness. It does not show that every negative headline is dishonest, that every image is manipulative, or that every platform works in the same way. It does give us reason to pause when a title or image seems designed to provoke an immediate reaction.

So, what can we do? The key lies in that moment before we engage — the pause before we click.

How to Practise Discernment and Cultivate Well-being

1. Recognise the Pull: Be aware of your own emotional responses. If a headline or image triggers strong fear, anger or outrage, treat that as a reason to pause. Negative wording can attract attention, whether or not we know the creator’s intention.
2. Question the Source: Who is providing this information? What might their incentives be? Is it a reputable news organisation, a known expert or an anonymous account? Consider the “follow the money and power” principle, without assuming motive before examining the evidence.
3. Look Beyond the Thumbnail: Don’t let the image or headline do all the work. Check the actual content and whether it delivers on the headline’s promise. Is the image evidence for the claim, or is it repurposed, decorative or presented in a slanted way?
4. Seek Multiple Perspectives: Don’t rely on a single source, especially for complex or emotionally charged topics. Look for independent reporting and cross-check important claims.
5. Embrace Nuance: Reality is rarely black and white. Be wary of overly simple narratives, “us versus them” framing, or information that confirms your existing beliefs too easily. Thoughtful arguments often involve complexity.
6. Cultivate Critical Thinking: Ask questions, evaluate evidence and be willing to change your mind when presented with better information. This will not remove every automatic response, but it gives us a way to examine that first impression rather than simply follow it.
7. Actively Seek the Positive: Occasionally, instead of being drawn towards negative clickbait, over-emotional hooks or images that stimulate our fearful instincts, make a conscious choice to look for something positive. Seek out a good picture, a well-reasoned statement or even a seemingly “boring” headline. This may help you find content that uplifts, encourages gratitude or supports worship and trust, if you are Christian. Your viewing choices may also influence future recommendations, although platforms differ and no single action can guarantee a more balanced feed. The aim is to discover what nourishes the mind and soul, rather than continually consuming material that leaves us anxious or depleted.

By consciously practising these steps, we can begin to reclaim some control over our attention, foster better understanding and navigate the information landscape with greater clarity, well-being and a more balanced perspective.

References — Why Bad News Travels So Fast… and Why the Picture Often Lies

Research and media systems

• Robertson, C. E., Pröllochs, N., Schwarzenegger, K., Pärnamets, P., Van Bavel, J. J., & Feuerriegel, S. (2023). “Negativity drives online news consumption.” Nature Human Behaviour, 7, 812–822. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41562-023-01538-4
• Newman, E. J., & Schwarz, N. (2024). “Misinformed by images: How images influence perceptions of truth and what can be done about it.” Current Opinion in Psychology, 56, 101778. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.copsyc.2023.101778
• YouTube Help. “YouTube’s Recommendation System.” https://support.google.com/youtube/answer/16533387?hl=en

History and theology

• Juvenal. Satires, Satire 10 — the passage commonly associated with panem et circenses (“bread and circuses”). For scholarly context, see Theodore Ziolkowski, “Juvenal Delinquents,” Cambridge University Press.
• Tacitus. Annals, Book 15, chapter 39 — Nero’s relief measures following the Great Fire of Rome. English translation.
• Cassius Dio. Roman History, 68.15.1 — Trajan’s public spectacles. Source excerpt and context.
• Le Bon, Gustave. The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind, supplied edition, pp. 31–32.
• The Holy Bible, English Standard Version. 2 Timothy 4:3–4.

Reformation and the printing press

• Bagchi, David. “Printing, Propaganda, and Public Opinion in the Age of Martin Luther.” Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Religion. Chapter page.
• Wooding, Lucy (2021). “Encountering the Word of God in Early Tudor England.” The English Historical Review. Article page.
• University of Chicago Library. “Flame Wars: Religious Controversy as Fodder for the Printing Press.” Exhibition page.
• Pettegree, Andrew. “Pamphlets and Persuasion,” in Reformation and the Culture of Persuasion. Chapter page.

Contemporary context for the Iran anecdote

• Congressional Research Service. “U.S. Conflict with Iran,” updated 18 September 2026. Report and timeline.