Viral ‘Red vs Blue’ posts test Britain’s resilience against disinformation

A violent TikTok trend dividing London schools has sparked police action and parental fear. While no evidence links it to Moscow, Britain’s experience of Russian online destabilisation makes the suspicion hard to ignore.

Viral violence and fertile ground for fear

More than 50 schools. At least 12 boroughs including Croydon, Bromley, Hackney, Ealing, and Greenwich. A handful of posts recently metastasised into something darker. A trend calling itself “School Wars” or “Red vs Blue” spread across TikTok and Snapchat, dividing London secondary schools into rival factions and awarding “points” for filmed assaults.

The mechanics are disturbingly simple. Boroughs have been assigned colours, red or blue. Meet-ups have been proposed. Young people are being encouraged to arrive armed, not with guns, but with the everyday paraphernalia of the classroom: scissors, compasses, metal combs, rulers. Objects designed for geometry and grooming repurposed as props in a performance of violence. And knives.

The Metropolitan Police responded with Operation Cedarfield, increasing patrols around schools and working to remove inciting social media accounts. Headteachers have issued warnings. Parents have flooded WhatsApp groups with screenshots and rumours. In some neighbourhoods, children are being kept home.

There is, at the time of writing, no confirmed link between the “School Wars” trend and a hostile state, however, if such a phenomenon were to be amplified or manipulated by a hostile power, what would that look like, and what would it seek to achieve?

The hidden tension lies not in proven interference, but in plausibility. Britain has spent the past decade grappling with Russian-linked disinformation, cyber attacks on hospitals and businesses, and what MI5 has described as attempts to generate “sustained mayhem on British and European streets”. In that context, a youth-driven social media panic does not exist in a vacuum. It exists in an ecosystem already primed for mistrust.

To be clear, suspicion is not evidence. Cause must not be conflated with correlation. Yet the architecture of hybrid warfare is designed precisely to blur those lines. A trend may begin organically. It may then be nudged, amplified, or distorted. The question is not simply whether Russia is involved in this instance. It is whether Britain has become structurally vulnerable to the weaponisation of its own anxieties.

The mechanics of a modern playground war

The “School Wars” posts mimicked the aesthetic of gang rivalry, borrowing loosely from American cultural tropes. “Red vs Blue” was not subtle. Nor was it sophisticated. That is partly why it spread. The format was instantly legible to teenagers steeped in meme culture and competitive online gaming.

Points for fights, with filmed evidence required. Rival boroughs tagged and taunted. The algorithm’s logic did the rest. Controversy drives engagement. Engagement drives visibility. Visibility drives imitation.

What transformed the posts from adolescent bravado into a public order concern was the offline translation. Police reported threats of organised confrontations in multiple boroughs. Even where violence has not materialised, fear has. That fear itself has consequences: sense of panic for the parents, anxiety for some children, heavy policing around educational institutions.

Here, the distinction between online theatre and real-world harm collapses. Social media platforms are not merely mirrors of behaviour. They are amplifiers. A handful of instigators can create the perception of mass mobilisation.

If a hostile state wished to exploit such a moment, it would not need to invent it. It would only need to accelerate it. Anonymous accounts could repost and inflame. Bot networks from Russian bot farms could boost divisive content. False rumours could then be layered on top, exaggerating the scale of violence, inventing injuries, and naming schools that were never involved.

This is the logic of accelerationism, a doctrine identified by Europol in certain extremist online communities. The aim is not to advance a coherent ideology, but to hasten social breakdown. Feed every grievance. Stoke every fear. Collapse trust in institutions.

Yet it is equally important not to attribute to Moscow what can be explained by domestic dynamics. British teenagers do not require foreign direction to engage in reckless behaviour. Moral panics have long predated TikTok. The novelty lies in speed and scale.

Russia’s digital playbook in the West

While no evidence ties the “School Wars” trend to the Kremlin, there is extensive evidence that Russia has used online platforms to target Western societies, including young people.

Security agencies across Europe have documented disinformation campaigns aimed at exploiting cultural fractures. Russian-linked accounts have targeted young Ukrainians on TikTok with anti-conscription narratives and fearmongering. In Russian-occupied areas of Ukraine, children have reportedly been sent to camps where military training forms part of the curriculum, embedding loyalty to Moscow from an early age.

The invasion of Ukraine has been dubbed by some observers the first “TikTok War”, a conflict fought not only with artillery but with algorithms. Soldiers and civilians alike have posted real-time footage. Propaganda circulates at the speed of swipes. Narrative dominance has become a strategic objective.

In the UK, counter-terrorism leaders have warned of teenagers as young as their mid-teens being investigated for involvement in state-backed plots linked to Russia and Iran. The method is often indirect. Young people are recruited online, offered money, status, or a sense of belonging. They are used as proxies for vandalism, arson, or reconnaissance.

MI5’s director general stated in October 2024 that Russian intelligence was pursuing “sustained mayhem” on British and European streets. The phrase was carefully chosen. Mayhem suggests chaos for its own sake. Not necessarily a specific policy outcome, but a generalised erosion of stability.

Operation Doppelganger, for instance, involved the creation of fake versions of trusted news sites to spread disinformation. The tactic relied on mimicry. If citizens can no longer distinguish authentic reporting from fabricated narratives, trust collapses.

In this context, a viral trend of youth violence becomes a potentially useful raw material. Even if not initiated by foreign actors, it can be woven into broader narratives: that Britain is lawless, that multicultural cities are ungovernable, that institutions are failing. The story needs only be nudged.

Panic as a strategic objective

If one were to hypothesise Russian involvement in a phenomenon like “School Wars”, the objective would likely not be the fights themselves. It would be the reaction.

Parents panic. Children stay home. Schools tighten security. Police divert resources. Media coverage amplifies the sense of crisis. Social cohesion frays. Fights materialise. Extremism rises. Far-right politicians demand crackdowns. Voters panic. Government collapse.

Hybrid warfare thrives on overreaction. A small spark, magnified by fear, can produce disproportionate disruption. The cost to the instigator is minimal. The cost to the target society is cumulative.

Britain has already experienced Russian-linked cyber attacks on hospitals and businesses. Ransomware incidents have disrupted NHS services, delaying appointments and operations. Corporate data breaches have eroded consumer confidence. Each incident generates headlines. Each headline chips away at the perception of resilience.

The psychological dimension matters. If families begin to see threats everywhere, trust in digital spaces declines. If every viral trend is suspected of foreign manipulation, paranoia takes root. Democracies depend on a baseline of social trust. Hybrid strategies aim to corrode it.

Yet proportionality is essential. Not every disturbance is a geopolitical plot. Over-attribution can be as damaging as complacency. It risks absolving domestic actors of responsibility and inflating the adversary’s power.

The tension, then, is structural. Britain faces genuine hostile activity from Russia in the digital realm. At the same time, it must avoid seeing Moscow’s hand in every instance of youth disorder.

The responsibility of platforms and the state

The “School Wars” episode exposes vulnerabilities that extend beyond geopolitics. TikTok and Snapchat are not passive conduits. Their algorithms prioritise engagement, often at the expense of social harm. Content that provokes outrage or excitement travels further.

The state’s response, Operation Cedarfield, reflects a familiar pattern: reactive policing once online content spills into physical space. Monitoring school areas and removing inciting accounts are necessary steps. They are not sufficient.

If hostile actors are indeed targeting Western youth, as intelligence agencies suggest, then digital literacy becomes a matter of national security. Teenagers must understand how manipulation works. They must recognise bot amplification, fake news clones, AI-generated disinformation, and emotionally charged bait.

There is also a broader societal question. Why are young people so susceptible to trends that valorise violence? Social isolation, economic anxiety, and fractured community structures all create openings. Hostile states may exploit these fissures, but they do not create them from scratch.

In that sense, focusing solely on hostile actors risks missing the deeper malaise. A society confident in its institutions, cohesive in its communities, and attentive to its youth is harder to destabilise.

Between vigilance and paranoia

Britain is engaged, whether it wishes to be or not, in a low-grade information conflict. Its hospitals and businesses have been hacked. Its political debates have been infiltrated by disinformation. Its young people are active on platforms known to host state-linked propaganda.

The unresolved tension is this: open societies rely on openness. The same digital platforms that allow creativity and connection also allow manipulation and incitement. Closing them down would betray liberal values. Leaving them unchecked invites exploitation.

If “School Wars” is purely a homegrown moral panic, it is still a warning. If, at any stage, hostile actors sought to amplify it, that too would fit a documented pattern. Either way, the episode underscores a fragility.

The price of apathy, as the old maxim has it, is to be ruled by evil men. The more subtle price is to be nudged, divided, and frightened without ever quite knowing by whom.

Britain’s challenge is not simply to prove or disprove foreign involvement in any single viral trend. It is to strengthen democratic resilience so that even if hostile actors whisper into the algorithm, the echo finds no willing chorus.

GOING FURTHER

• The four ways Putin is waging war on the UK right now | THE I NEWSPAPER

• TikTok and Snapchat posts urge London pupils to join ‘school wars’ fights | THE GUARDIAN

• Russian intelligence plotting 'mayhem' in UK, MI5 chief warns | BBC

• Russia aiming to generate ‘mayhem’ on UK streets, says MI5 head | THE GUARDIAN

• UK spy chief warns of 'sustained mayhem' from Russian intelligence | REUTERS

• Russia plotting ‘sustained mayhem’ on British streets, warns MI5 | THE TELEGRAPH

• How Russia is using proxies to carry out arson and sabotage in UK | THE INDEPENDENT

• European intelligence agencies warn of Russian sabotage plots | FINANCIAL TIMES

• MI5 head warns of 'reckless' Russian sabotage campaign | SKY NEWS

Sources:

▪ This piece was first published in Europeans TODAY on 26 February 2026.

▪ Cover: Dreamstime/KORWEN.