Online incel forums generate “dark emotional energy” that reinforces toxic group identity

A new study published in Acta Sociologica has found that online incel communities maintain their coherence and ideological commitment not through the positive emotions usually associated with social bonding, but through a shared emotional atmosphere dominated by despair, resentment, and nihilism. Drawing on sociologist Randall Collins’ theory of interaction rituals, the researchers introduce the concept of “dark emotional energy” to explain how such communities build group identity through repeated exchanges of negative emotions.

The research focused on Incels.is, one of the most active online forums for self-described incels—men who identify as “involuntarily celibate.” While the site claims to provide a space for those struggling with loneliness or romantic rejection, its discussions are often steeped in misogyny, violence, and despair. The researchers set out to understand how and why users engage repeatedly in these interactions, especially when they seem to cause more harm than comfort.

While many people feel lonely or face difficulties with romantic relationships, incels sometimes interpret these experiences through a rigid, fatalistic ideology that blames women and society at large. Central to this worldview is the belief that physical appearance, particularly facial structure and height, determines one’s romantic success.

This outlook—referred to as the “black pill”—portrays the dating world as a brutal hierarchy in which only the most attractive men have value, while others are doomed to lifelong rejection. Incels position themselves at the bottom of this hierarchy and view their perceived status as both biologically determined and socially reinforced.

Prior research has described how this ideology builds a strong sense of group identity, often by embracing misogyny and nihilism. But the researchers behind this new study wanted to go a step further. Rather than focusing only on what incels believe, they asked how everyday interactions on the forum help sustain the group and its toxic ideology. Specifically, they explored why members stay engaged in a community that seems to deepen rather than alleviate personal suffering.

“I’ve long been interested in radicalization processes and the role the internet plays in them,” said study author Anton Törnberg, an associate professor in sociology at the University of Gothenburg and co-author of Intimate Communities of Hate: Why Social Media Fuels Far-Right Extremism.

“In my research, I’ve mainly focused on various forms of far-right movements and how different types of social media platforms contribute to their development. The incel movement stands out in a fascinating way here. Unlike many other social movements, it centers around a negative self-image and is largely built on a destructive collective identity.”

“Incel ideology is deeply ambivalent and contradictory,” Törnberg explained. “Members often place themselves at the very bottom of the societal hierarchy, describing themselves as ‘subhumans’ in relation to both women and so-called ‘Chads’—men epitomized by physical attractiveness, sexual success, and dominance.”

“But at the same time, they tend to claim moral and intellectual superiority over both of these groups, whom they see as shallow and unintelligent. The incel community also has a strong internal hierarchy, where members compete over who is the most marginalized. All of this raised a set of important questions for us: Given this highly destructive ideology and toxic group dynamic, what is it that actually compels members to repeatedly engage with and reinforce these ideas? And how do internal interactions help sustain and strengthen the ideology within these online communities?”

To investigate this, the researchers conducted a five-week online observation of Incels.is, drawing on a qualitative method known as psychological discourse analysis. In the first phase, they passively observed the forum to identify common themes, language patterns, and interaction styles. In the second phase, they selected ten highly active threads for a more detailed analysis, focusing on how users interacted with one another and how group identity was formed and maintained through those conversations. The study did not involve any direct engagement with forum users, and efforts were made to protect anonymity.

The analysis revealed that incel forums display many of the features of what Collins calls “interaction rituals.” These include a shared focus of attention (such as a thread about a woman’s supposed betrayal), a clear in-group identity marked by special language and norms, and a shared emotional atmosphere. But unlike typical interaction rituals, which generate positive emotional energy—feelings of connection, excitement, or purpose—the emotional energy generated in these forums was largely negative.

In one detailed example, a member posted about a sex worker who claimed to have fallen in love with him. Instead of receiving empathy or constructive advice, most responses were mocking or harshly cynical. Members accused him of being naïve, questioned whether he was a “true incel,” and encouraged him to emotionally distance himself or commit suicide. Despite this, the original poster remained engaged in the thread, continuing to seek advice and reflect on his feelings. His emotional state deteriorated throughout the conversation, culminating in expressions of suicidal ideation.

This and other threads suggest that while incel interactions meet the structural criteria of rituals that build social cohesion, the emotional content is almost entirely negative. Members frequently bond over despair, hopelessness, and shared rage. Some even compete over who is most hopeless, who is the ugliest, or who has suffered the most rejection. These patterns of interaction generate what the authors call “dark emotional energy”—a perverse form of group cohesion based not on joy or pride, but on mutually reinforced hopelessness.

In this context, emotional pain and despair function as symbols of group identity. Sharing one’s depression or bitterness becomes a way of proving authenticity and belonging. Even suicidal ideation is normalized and sometimes encouraged in a dedicated forum subcategory. Positive or hopeful posts are often dismissed or met with hostility, as they contradict the community’s shared narrative of inescapable misery.

While some sociological theories suggest that failed rituals produce low energy and lead people to disengage, this study suggests a different dynamic. In the incel community, repeated expressions of emotional pain do not drive members away; they draw them deeper into the group. The researchers argue that this cycle is not merely a failure of traditional rituals but a different kind of ritual altogether—one that produces cohesion through shared darkness rather than shared joy.

“One thing that stood out was that even communities that seem deeply self-destructive, like these incel forums filled with hopelessness, misogyny, and talk of suicide, can still function as strong social groups,” Törnberg told PsyPost. “What keeps people coming back isn’t support or positivity, but a shared emotional experience based in bitterness and despair. We show how what we call ‘dark emotional energy’ acts like a kind of glue that binds the group together. It’s a powerful reminder that harmful ideologies don’t always spread through hope or vision—sometimes they spread through shared pain and resentment.”

The study also highlights the importance of language and symbols in this process. Forum members use unique slang, memes, and coded language that help define group boundaries and exclude outsiders. These linguistic practices foster a strong sense of “us vs. them,” reinforcing the belief that only incels truly understand the realities of modern gender dynamics.

The researchers caution that their findings are specific to Incels.is and may not apply to all individuals who identify as incel. Many men who struggle with loneliness or rejection do not embrace misogynistic ideologies.

“Our study focused on one specific forum—Incels.is—so we’re not saying this applies to everyone who identifies as involuntarily celibate,” Törnberg noted. “Many men experience loneliness without ever embracing misogyny or extremist ideas. Also, since this was an observational study, we don’t know what members truly feel on a personal level—we can only analyse how they express themselves publicly in line with the forum’s norms. It’s very possible that members feel one thing privately but express another, shaped by what is acceptable or expected in the community. Future studies with interviews could offer deeper insight into that.”

Nonetheless, the findings raise serious concerns about the psychological and social consequences of participation in such online communities. Not only do these forums reinforce a destructive worldview, but they also create an environment where despair and hate are not just expressed—they are rewarded.

“One area I’m especially interested in now is how and when the emotional energy generated in these types of extremist online environments spills over into offline violence,” Törnberg said. “I believe this could give us crucial insights into the connection between online radicalisation and political violence in the real world.”

“This study isn’t just about incels—it’s about the emotional forces that make online hate groups stick. We tend to think of radicalisation as an intellectual or ideological process. But our findings suggest it’s just as much about emotion—how people feel, how those feelings are validated, and how they become the basis for group identity. If we want to counter toxic online cultures, we need to start by understanding that emotional core.”

The study, “Rituals of resentment: How dark emotional energy fuels incel identity and solidarity,” was authored by Patrik Kallio and Anton Törnberg.