Sunny Side Up: Breaking the cycle of bullying

Adolescents live intensely in the present, with their sense of consequences blurred by the immediacy of peer approval. They can be cruel without pausing to think about what their actions might mean for someone else. — Graphic: 123rf

October marks National Bullying Prevention Month in some countries, and serves as a reminder to us all to help foster kindness, understanding, and inclusion, especially among young people.

As a mental health counsellor, I’m always keen to understand what makes a message stick and campaigns effective. What doesn’t work is providing simplistic messages to complex problems or when efforts are reactive rather than proactive and ongoing.

When it comes to bullying, adults can respond with strong protective instincts, wanting both to safeguard the victim and ensure the bully is held accountable. These impulses are understandable, as bullying is always cruel and can lead to devastating consequences.

Adolescents live intensely in the present, with their sense of consequences blurred by the immediacy of peer approval. They can be cruel without pausing to think about what their actions might mean for someone else. This doesn’t excuse the behaviour at all, but it does mean that lecturing young people about kindness, while morally correct, doesn’t always land meaningfully. Messaging has to go further, helping students connect impulses with an understanding of impact.

Scandinavia has long been at the forefront of anti-bullying work. In the early 1980s, Swedish-Norwegian psychologist Dan Olweus launched what became the Olweus Bullying Prevention Programme, a whole-school approach that set the standard for others to follow.

Olweus argued that the entire school ecosystem – teachers, administrators, parents, and students – had to be involved. Clear rules were laid down, teachers were trained to spot early signs, and schools worked to create climates where inclusion and respect were expected. The results were striking: within two years, bullying dropped by half, school environments improved, and the programme became a model exported around the world.

Finland followed with the KiVa programme, which targeted not just the bullies or the victims but also the bystanders. Most bullying thrives on an audience. The laughter, the attention, or the turning away provides a kind of social fuel. KiVa turned that logic inside out, empowering peers to act as “upstanders” rather than passive witnesses. With classroom lessons, online games, and structured support for victims, it helped shift the culture of entire schools.

Research showed 98% of bullied children reported their situations improved after KiVa interventions. The emphasis wasn’t on moralising but on changing group dynamics, cutting off the social rewards bullying depends upon.

These examples underline a crucial point: Piecemeal approaches rarely work. Workshops, awareness weeks, and posters might be well-intentioned, but on their own they don’t change behaviour. What does work is a sustained, multi-layered strategy. 

Schools that take bullying seriously establish clear policies, supervise spaces where harm is likely to happen, provide training for at-risk students, and ensure mental health support for those affected. Prevention happens at the universal level, support at the selective level, and tailored interventions at the individual level.

Another pillar is social-emotional learning (SEL). When students are taught to recognise and regulate their emotions, to take the perspective of others, and to resolve conflict constructively, bullying has less fertile ground in which to grow. Skills like empathy and perspective-taking sound simple, but research shows they need to be taught well and practised.

Role-plays, reflective journaling, and guided discussions help adolescents connect their own feelings to those of their peers. Just as important, SEL emphasises agency – teaching young people they’re not powerless bystanders but participants who can intervene, offer support, or speak out.

Messaging must be clear. Students need help distinguishing between playful banter and harmful behaviour, and parents need to know how to spot signs of distress without leaping to blame. Teachers and administrators also need training to identify small behaviours before they escalate. In today’s world, this includes digital literacy since online bullying doesn’t end when the school bell rings. Education about the permanence of digital behaviours and real-life consequences is vital.

Mental health support completes the picture. Those bullied often carry wounds of anxiety and low self-esteem long after bullying ends. Perpetrators are frequently struggling themselves, whether with self-image, difficult family environments, or unprocessed anger. Even bystanders can be left with a sense of guilt or helplessness. Counselling and other skilled support services are central to ensuring no young person carries the weight alone.

All of this points to a different way of thinking about bullying prevention. Rather than treating it as a matter of discipline or morality alone, we have to see it as a public health issue – something that demands structure, investment, and persistence. When schools, families, and communities commit to long-term, evidence-based strategies, bullying can be reduced, climates can improve, and young people can thrive in environments that feel safe and respectful.

Reactive efforts aren’t enough. The real work is in the daily commitments: teaching empathy in classrooms, listening attentively at home, and making sure policies are enforced fairly. Bullying isn’t inevitable – behaviour patterns can be interrupted and replaced, but only if we’re willing to take prevention seriously and consistently in all our schools and universities.

Sunny Side Up columnist Sandy Clarke has long held an interest in emotions, mental health, mindfulness and meditation. He believes the more we understand ourselves and each other, the better societies we can create. If you have any questions or comments, e-mail [e-mail]. The views expressed here are entirely the writer's own.