Do any of you remember the story, “The Three Billy Goats Gruff?” It is a Norwegian fairytale about three goats who try to cross a bridge guarded by a troll who threatens to eat them, but is ultimately defeated by the biggest goat, who head-butts the troll into the river.
In the fictional story, the troll is the one who taunts and attacks the goats, but in this realm, it is the character who scours social media to intentionally antagonize writers and readers alike. Their goal is to poke fun at us, post offensive comments, spread disinformation, and generally just stir up crap. They sit beneath the digital bridge, waiting for someone – anyone – to cross, just so they can strike.
But here’s the thing: trolls don’t build bridges. They don’t help people across. They don’t connect ideas, inspire dreams, or unite communities. Their only function is to obstruct, to intimidate, and to drag things down into the mud. When a campaign is built on hope and optimism – on the belief that we can create something better together – there is no room for that kind of energy. Hope is about seeing light in the distance and moving toward it. Trolling is about blowing out someone else’s candle just to feel clever in the dark.
Some might argue that trolling can be wielded “strategically,” to ridicule bad-faith opponents or expose hypocrisy. But even when it’s dressed up as satire, the result is often the same: division, defensiveness, and a race to the bottom. Trolling thrives on performance, not progress. It attracts attention, sure – but not trust. And trust is the currency of hope.
If we want to build a campaign that lifts people up, that makes them believe change is possible, then we can’t sound like we’re shouting from the shadows. We have to be the ones who build the bridge, not the ones who live under it.
So the next time we feel the urge to clap back, post a snarky comment, or mock someone we disagree with, let’s take a breath. We all have a right to our opinions – let’s make sure they offer value.
Nancy