Social media’s double-edged sword – cut out the negative, raise the positive

SOCIAL media was once a beacon of hope.

In Malaysia, it played a decisive role in the 2008 General Elections, bridging the gap between the people and power, shifting political landscapes, and giving ordinary citizens a voice.

Sport quickly embraced that same energy. Fans could connect directly with teams, players could engage with supporters, and stories travelled faster than ever before. For many, the digital sphere became a new kind of stadium — alive with colour, debate, and passion.

But somewhere along the way, that passion soured.

Today, the same platforms that once inspired unity now feel toxic, even nauseating. Opinions are hurled for the sake of noise, not nuance. Criticism, once constructive, too often drifts into personal attacks. If I feel unsettled just reading them, imagine the athletes who live under that glare every day.

Some may thrive on pressure. But many wither under the relentless weight of it.

Take singles shuttler Lee Zii Jia.

Returning to the World Championships after five months out with an ankle injury, he fell in the first round. The reactions? A mixed bag - some fair, many cruel. Words questioning his hunger, his ability, even his worth.

Yet if you watched closely, you saw something else. A man diving for returns, stretching at the net, unleashing his trademark smashes.

You saw a player trying - after months of pain and doubt - to rediscover his rhythm. That alone should have been reason enough to welcome him back.

Before facing South Korea’s Jeon Hyeok-jin, he admitted that during his layoff he wrestled with depression and even contemplated quitting.

That confession reveals the unseen battles. What we see on court is just the surface. Behind it lies sacrifice, sleepless nights, and a fight against demons we may never understand.

Football tells the same story, only on a louder stage.

One stray pass, one tactical tweak, one off-night, and the avalanche begins. Local players, already juggling expectations and limited resources, are battered online for every slip.

And it is not just players. Clubs and organisations, too, live under this unforgiving spotlight.

A transfer, a coaching hire, even a kit reveal can descend into ridicule. Scrutiny is part of the game, yes. But when every conversation turns venomous, what are we really building?

Every defeat sparks calls for sackings. A handful of poor results, and suddenly players are “finished,” managers are “frauds,” and clubs are “clueless.”

Two or three games into a season, the panic button is smashed as if the table is already set in stone.

But football is not that simple. Teams evolve. Players wrestle with form, fitness, injuries, and pressures that most of us cannot imagine. Tactics take time to click. Chemistry on the pitch is not forged overnight.

Some teams start slow and rise. Others stumble mid-season and recover. That is the beauty of the game - its unpredictability, its ability to twist and turn.

But social media thrives on outrage. And outrage feeds itself. The harsher the take, the more attention it attracts.

Here lies the truth - sporting success is not conjured overnight. It is built brick by brick. From grassroots drills to international arenas, from physios patching up bodies to coaches refining strategies, from families sacrificing time to athletes enduring doubt - every block is laid with unseen effort.

To tear that down with a careless tweet or a barbed comment is to dismiss years of sweat.

Criticism has value. It sharpens, it corrects, it holds institutions accountable. But without empathy, it corrodes. It ceases to be support and becomes sabotage.

If we love our football, our badminton, our sports, we must relearn balance. To cheer in triumph, to console in defeat, and to remember that athletes are not machines but human beings - fragile, flawed, yet striving.

In the end, sport is not just about medals and scorelines. It is about respect, resilience, and unity. That is the spirit we should amplify online. Not poison, but passion. Not cruelty, but care.

Because the true strength of a sporting nation lies not just in the athletes who rise but in the fans who lift them when they fall.