In modern world, your digital identity is not just an extension of your life – it is your life. It holds your business, your reputation, your relationships, your income, your memories and your voice.

So when that identity is stolen, hijacked or erased by a hacker, the damage goes far beyond inconvenience. It becomes a human crisis – one that exposes a profound imbalance of power between ordinary people and the corporate giants that govern our digital existence.

For millions of users, Meta Platforms – owner of Facebook, Instagram and WhatsApp – is not a luxury. It is infrastructure. Small business owners rely on it for revenue. Creators depend on it for visibility.

Families use it to stay connected.

Entrepreneurs build careers on it. Yet when those accounts are hacked, a stark and troubling reality emerges: there is no meaningful customer service for the average user – unless you are verified.

And even then, there is no guarantee of resolution.

Meta’s customer service apparatus effectively does not exist for the non-elite user. There is no direct phone number. No accountable human being. No real-time support. No escalation pathway that actually works. You are directed to automated forms, dead-end help pages and AI-driven responses that never resolve the issue. Your appeals vanish into a digital void. You submit identity verification documents repeatedly. You receive canned responses. You are told to “secure your account,” even when the platform itself has locked you out of it.

Then comes the most devastating policy twist: after a hack, you cannot get a second profile verified. That means you are permanently excluded from the only tier of service that offers any form of human support. In effect, being hacked disqualifies you from help.

It is an extraordinary contradiction. You are punished for being a victim.

For the corporate elite, the experience is different. Verified users – often public figures, celebrities or those who can afford monthly subscription fees – have access to real support channels. They can speak to a human. They can escalate issues. They can resolve problems in days or weeks instead of months or never. The divide is unmistakable: one class of user is protected; the other is abandoned.

For the ordinary person, being heard and seen becomes impossible.

And so people do what desperate citizens always do when institutions fail them: they seek legal advice. They hire attorneys. They threaten litigation. They draft formal complaints. They write demand letters.

Only then – sometimes – does Meta respond.

But legal advice is not accessible to everyone. Not everyone can afford a lawyer. Not everyone has the resources to engage in a protracted legal battle with a trillion-dollar corporation. Not everyone has the time, the emotional capacity or the financial stability to pursue justice through the courts.

So the platform’s message becomes painfully clear: your rights only matter if you can afford to enforce them.

The human toll of this system is devastating.

Being hacked is not just a technical failure. It is a psychological trauma. It is watching your digital life being taken over by a stranger while you stand helpless on the side-lines. It is seeing your photos, videos, and business pages repurposed or erased. It is losing years of work, income streams, professional relationships, and credibility overnight.

It is humiliation.

There is something uniquely degrading about having to publicly explain that your account was hacked while impostors post under your name. About asking friends and clients not to engage with your stolen profile. About being told by strangers that they don’t believe you. About being ignored by the very company that hosts your identity.

The mental toll compounds daily.

You refresh your inbox endlessly, waiting for a response that never comes. You submit the same appeal form over and over again, hoping the algorithm will finally notice you. You feel invisible. Powerless. Dismissed. Dehumanised.

Sleep becomes difficult. Anxiety spikes. Trust erodes. Productivity collapses. The platform that once empowered your voice becomes the source of your distress.

For business owners and creators, the consequences are existential. Revenue drops. Contracts are jeopardized. Brand credibility is damaged. Audience trust weakens. The work of years disappears in seconds, with no recourse.

And still, there is silence.

Meta Platforms has built one of the most powerful data empires in human history. It profits from user-generated content, digital advertising and personal information. Yet when that system fails the very people who fuel it, there is no accountability, no transparency and no meaningful support.

This is not just a customer service problem. It is a human rights problem.

In a society where digital platforms control access to communication, commerce and community, denying people due process, support and recovery mechanisms after cybercrime is not a minor inconvenience. It is a form of institutional negligence.

The powerless are left pleading into automated voids.

The powerful are ushered into human support queues.

And the rest of us are told – implicitly – that our suffering is not worth addressing unless we can afford to escalate it legally.

That is not innovation.

That is not progress.

That is not ethical technology.

Being hacked should not disqualify you from help.

Being ordinary should not make you invisible.

Being a victim should not require hiring a lawyer to be taken seriously.

Until these corporations build real accountability into their systems, the human toll will continue to rise – quietly, invisibly, devastatingly – one hacked life at a time.

And the silence from the platforms will remain the loudest injustice of all.

• A Tell Media report / By Alycia Barnard – A Florida-based American politician, businesswoman and Director of  US Doors Direct Corporation