Last week, I caught myself doom-scrolling through three different cybersecurity stories before breakfast. Hackers this. Data breach that. National crisis incoming. By the time I’d finished my coffee, I felt like the digital world was literally on fire.
Here’s the thing though: was it actually on fire? Or had I just been reading the same story packaged in increasingly alarming ways?
This question got me thinking about something an expert recently raised in a Danish tech publication. They challenged the narrative we’ve been living in—the one where every security incident becomes breaking news, every vulnerability becomes a potential catastrophe, and every cyberattack gets amplified into a threat to civilization itself. It’s a fair challenge. And honestly? I think they’re onto something important.
The Amplification Machine

Think of news about cybersecurity incidents like a game of telephone, but with microphones and millions of people listening. Someone discovers a security issue. A tech journalist covers it. Social media picks it up. A news outlet runs a sensational headline. By the time it reaches dinner table conversations, the story has morphed into something that barely resembles the original facts.
The problem isn’t that we’re reporting on security issues. We absolutely should be. Security matters. What’s tricky is the difference between reporting on a real threat and manufacturing panic where none existed before.
Let me give you a practical example. Imagine a software vulnerability is discovered in a system used by 50,000 companies. The vulnerability exists, it’s real, and it needs fixing. But here’s where the roads diverge:
- Responsible reporting: “A vulnerability was found. Here’s what it does. Here’s how to patch it. Most users who update won’t be affected.”
- Amplified reporting: “CRITICAL THREAT ALERT: Millions at Risk. Your Data Could Be Stolen. Is Your Company Safe?”
Both stories are technically about the same incident. But one creates informed action, and the other creates fear. Guess which one gets more clicks?
The Cost of Constant Crisis Mode
Here’s what worries me about treating every security incident as a doomsday scenario: we’re training people to either ignore warnings completely or live in a perpetual state of anxiety. There’s no middle ground anymore.
When I’m talking to developers and IT teams, I see this play out in real time. Some folks have essentially given up on staying informed because everything feels like crying wolf. They assume if a threat was actually serious, it would just resolve itself somehow. Others are so stressed about potential breaches that they can barely focus on building anything new.
The expert making this observation described it as a kind of hybrid war we’re waging against ourselves. We’re not under attack from some external enemy—we’re attacking our own sense of security and trust by constantly amplifying threats to maximum alarm levels.
This matters because cybersecurity fatigue is real. When people are exhausted by fear, they make worse decisions. They skip security updates because they’re tired of “urgent” alerts. They ignore legitimate warnings because they’ve heard too many false alarms. They avoid learning about good security practices because the whole field feels like doom and gloom.
What Actually Gets Damaged?
The most telling part of this conversation is asking: where’s the proof of actual harm? When we spread panic about a cyberattack, are we talking about documented losses, real data breaches, or verified compromises? Or are we talking about theoretical scenarios and worst-case possibilities?
I’m not saying we should ignore cybersecurity. That would be absurd. Your business needs real protection. Your data needs real safeguards. But there’s a meaningful difference between:
- A vulnerability that could potentially be exploited under specific conditions
- A vulnerability that is actively being exploited and causing documented damage
One requires attention and patches. The other requires panic alerts and crisis communication. Most incidents fall into the first category. We often treat them like the second.
Moving Toward Balance
So what’s the way forward? I think it starts with asking better questions whenever we hear about a security incident:
- What actually happened here?
- Who was affected?
- What’s the documented damage so far?
- What specific action should I take?
- Why is this story being told to me right now?
As someone who works in tech, I want to help people build secure systems and understand real risks. But I also want to help people think clearly instead of react fearfully. The two aren’t opposing goals—they support each other.
We need cybersecurity professionals who are informed and engaged, not burned out or cynical. We need regular users who take basic precautions, not people paralyzed by visions of invisible threats. We need journalists reporting on real issues, not chasing engagement with hysteria.
That’s the actual conversation worth having. Not whether cyberattacks are real—they absolutely are. But how we talk about them, when we sound alarms, and whether we’re informing people or simply scaring them. Those choices matter more than you might think.
Source: Ekspert afblæser ‘sort oktober’: »Vi bombarderer befolkningen med historier om hackerangreb. Men…«