Shame is a powerful emotion and one of the most challenging aspects of the human experience. What is it that makes us feel shame? At its core, I believe shame arises when we’re caught doing something we inherently know we shouldn’t have done. It’s the deepest, most personal form of embarrassment, often tied to our sense of identity and values. With the rise of the internet, however, shame has taken on an entirely new dimension—one that amplifies its effects exponentially.

Consider the Monica Lewinsky scandal. I still remember when the story broke. As a young lad, I even joked about it, doing a Bill Clinton impression. At the time, it was the hot topic, dominating news cycles for months. But eventually, as all scandals do, it faded from public discourse. People moved on. Today, however, the internet ensures that stories, comments, and actions have an indefinite shelf life. What might have once been a passing moment of public shame can now be preserved forever in digital archives.

This permanence has serious consequences, especially for young people. Imagine a teenager saying or doing something inappropriate online. As they grow up, their brain continues to develop, their views evolve, and they gain maturity. But years later, that youthful misstep resurfaces—perhaps in a crucial moment, like a job interview. Should someone’s teenage errors define them forever? I firmly believe there should be a kind of statute of limitations on youthful mistakes. It’s unfair to hold people accountable for things they said or did before they had the life experience or cognitive development to truly understand the impact of their actions.

Then there’s the other side of the shame coin: the “keyboard warriors” or “cyber Karens.” These are the individuals who actively seek out old posts or comments to criticize and shame others. For shame to work, someone has to dole it out, right? But here’s the thing: I believe people should mind their own business. What drives someone to dig through a stranger’s digital history, searching for a reason to call them out? Is it boredom? Vindictiveness? A sense of self-righteousness? Regardless of the motive, this behavior feels like a form of cyber vigilantism.

In the court of law, the principle is clear: you are innocent until proven guilty. On the internet, however, it’s the opposite—you’re guilty until proven innocent. And even when you’re proven innocent, it rarely matters. The masses have already moved on to the next scandal, leaving behind the wreckage of your reputation. That’s the reality of online shame—it’s swift, merciless, and often careless.

So, what’s the solution? Maybe we need more grace, more understanding, and a greater willingness to let people grow. We’ve all made mistakes, but those mistakes don’t have to define us forever. Shame should not be wielded as a weapon, and the internet shouldn’t be a battlefield of endless judgment.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Rob