Every time a shocking incident rocks public opinion—a violent act, a case of intimidation, an unpredictable explosion of behaviour, a suspicious death, particularly in a state institution—the infamous “copycat fear” springs up almost automatically from TV screens and social media.
Suddenly everyone remembers the danger that others might copy the same event. And then, with great pomp, various “experts” on absolutely everything and café know-it-alls—invoking codes of conduct and regulations with the bearing of a thousand cardinals—wag their fingers, demanding the silencing of information, censorship, and protection for the “psychologically” vulnerable.
People who’ve become vulnerable to everything—not by chance, but because we, collectively and consciously, stripped them of every coping mechanism that might have kept their psychological existence standing. We isolated them within a society that idolises self-sufficiency and ridicules weakness. The result: they’ve become so fragile they shatter at the merest touch. We’ve built a world without resilience, yet we demand it.
And so, once again, public debate unfolds at its shallowest level. Those who invoke copycat behaviour are the very ones refusing to see its real root—not in the coverage of an event, but in the mentality of a society that cultivates it daily. Because genuine copycat behaviour isn’t born from a news report or a “leaked” video, but inside our homes, on our screens, in our own hands.
The same hands gripping a controller, virtually committing murders, looting, and destruction without a second thought. The same eyes glazed over for hours watching “crime series” and “horror films,” where violence is served up as entertainment, not as a lesson. And then these same people rush to wag their fingers about “imitating bad role models.”
How easy! What hypocrisy! The copycat behaviour these self-appointed guardians denounce is nothing but a mirror of their own choices. The very people who screech about “toxic role models” and condemn the media for publicising such incidents are the ones who leave them unchecked day and night on the internet and in gaming. They’re the ones feeding their children an indiscriminate diet of television culture, where arrogance, aggression, and sensationalism are rebranded as “entertainment.”
And naturally, no one considers that the real danger isn’t that a child will “copy” an event, but that they’ll learn to live in a world that constantly tells them to imitate. To imitate role models, images, behaviours. Not to think, but to reproduce. To become yet another copy in a society of copies. A society that trains its members to copy and reproduce without judgement—from their clothing purchases to their opinions and reactions on the internet.
Copycat behaviour, then, isn’t some random danger lurking when something negative happens. It’s the foundational mentality upon which we’ve built our entire social functioning. From schools that discourage independent thought to media outlets that reward the easy and superficial. From political debates conducted as televised shouting matches to the daily reality of social media where imitation passes for creativity.
So let’s stop inventing imaginary culprits every time something shocking occurs. Invoking copycat behaviour is nothing but a convenient alibi to avoid looking in the mirror. To avoid acknowledging that violence, disrespect, and apathy don’t visit us from outside—we produce them ourselves, through our habits, our omissions, and our hollow culture.
If we genuinely want to talk about imitation, let’s first talk about imitating irresponsibility, convenience, and pseudo-ethics. About the imitation of adults who play at being serious whilst reproducing the very stereotypes that cultivate indifference. About the imitation of “wise” commentators who pontificate about everything whilst knowing virtually nothing.
The truth is we’re not at risk of becoming imitators of an isolated episode. We’re at risk of remaining imitators of a society that’s lost its voice. A society that produces not reflection, but copies of its own emptiness. And the more we keep labelling every undesirable act as “imitation,” the further we drift from the self-criticism that might pull us out of the swamp.
“Copycat behaviour” isn’t a threat. It’s the outcome of a society that’s forgotten how to think for itself. And as long as we keep searching for blame in others, we’ll keep producing new generations who’ll do exactly the same—imitating us.
