Emilio does not own a smartphone and does not use banking applications. He keeps receipts in a folder, pays for many things at a counter and calls his daughter on a landline when he needs to check something. He might think digital fraud belongs to another world. Yet one afternoon a worried neighbour visits him: somebody has sent her a message using Emilio's name and asking for money for a supposed urgent repair. Emilio did not write the message, nor does he have an account from which it was sent. But his name, an old photograph shared by someone else and the trust he inspires in the neighbourhood have become material for deception.
This scene reveals an important idea: the reach of fraud is not measured only by who touches a screen. Digital scams move through families, businesses, associations and public services. They can use the identity of someone who does not participate in social networks, create problems for a person caring for somebody else, delay community support or cause a business to tighten procedures for everyone. When we say that someone “does not use technology”, we risk imagining they are outside its consequences. In reality, technology is part of shared relationships, and harm travels through those relationships.
Being outside an application does not mean being outside the problem#
A person may not have email and still receive a false call mentioning a medical appointment, an invoice or a relative's name. They may never shop online and discover that someone is requesting money from their contacts using their identity. They may rely on a trusted person to check a digital procedure and feel embarrassed to ask when something does not fit. Inequality is not only between people who know how to use a tool and people who do not. It also lies between people with a patient network to verify something and people who must resolve a doubt alone.
A person may not have email and still receive a false call mentioning a medical appointment, an invoice or a relative's name.
Fraud exploits these bridges of trust. A call aimed at a granddaughter can affect the grandfather who needs that money for a repair. A false email to an accounting office can delay a support payment sustaining several families. An improper charge against an association can force it to cancel an in-person activity for people who will never see the screen where the deception began. Looking at the full path changes prevention: it is not enough to protect individual accounts; we also need to protect the connections that sustain daily life.
For this reason, it is unfair to turn digital safety into a test of self-sufficiency. Asking Emilio to recognise every technical term, manage complex passwords or resolve an incident only through an application can increase his dependency rather than reduce it. Autonomy is not doing everything without help. It is being able to choose reliable help, understand the steps that matter and retain a route for saying that something seems strange. An institution offering only a fast digital channel can leave people without protection when they need a conversation, a counter or an answer by telephone.
Designing checks that include everyone#
Organisations can begin with a specific question: if someone has no mobile phone, email or easy internet access, how will they confirm a suspicious operation? The answer cannot simply be “ask somebody else to do it”. There should be an official number that is easy to find, in-person help when necessary and short documents in clear language explaining which communications are normal and what will never be requested. Providing several routes is not pointless duplication of work; it recognises that a single barrier becomes exclusion for someone.
In Emilio's case, the neighbourhood civic centre could offer a short session on false messages, not as a class measuring who knows the most. It could invite people to bring real doubts, show how to find an official number on an invoice and practise a response: “I cannot decide that now; I will check through my usual channel.” The aim is not to turn everyone into an expert. It is to make stopping a normal option and to ensure that asking for support carries no cost to dignity.
Families can also agree on inclusive procedures. Before an emergency, they can decide who will call through a known number, which details will not be shared by phone and what to do if someone receives an urgent request in another relative's name. The agreement should include people who do not use digital tools rather than leave them as spectators. Asking how they prefer to be informed and which contact they recognise strengthens their ability to participate. Speaking with them, not merely about them, stops protection becoming control.
Accessibility is also a matter of time. Scams pressure people to act quickly; safe processes must allow a pause. If a bank closes telephone service too early or an administration requires appointments only online, someone needing to check may feel there is no way out. Guaranteeing a sufficient human route is not technological nostalgia. It is a safety measure: it reduces the incentive to accept the first message promising an immediate solution.
Preventing protection from becoming isolation#
There is a risk in responding to fraud: treating older people, people with disabilities or people who do not use the internet as if they cannot make decisions. Taking away all their capacity can isolate them further and make them dependent on exactly one person. Respectful protection offers options, explains risks without infantilising and asks what support each person wants. Emilio may want to keep paying at the counter and learn to verify a message with the civic centre's help. That choice differs from forbidding him to participate out of fear.
Services should not penalise people who ask for an alternative. If an account-recovery process requires a selfie, a particular application or a series of steps someone cannot carry out, the harm of fraud expands. There must be a way to prove identity and ask for help that does not depend exclusively on one technology. This protects not only Emilio: it protects someone who has lost a phone, has an unstable connection, is in hospital or needs an interpreter.
Prevention campaigns often say “do not share your data”, but few explain what to do after a doubt arises. Good communication says where to call, which information is useful to keep and how to alert someone without continuing to talk to the person attempting the deception. It should be visible in posters, letters and conversations, not only on a webpage. When a help message uses the same language as a fraudulent alert—urgency, links, codes—it can easily fail to reach the people who need it most.
A learning network protects more than a lonely warning#
If a neighbour receives a message that appears to be from Emilio, they should be able to check it without fearing that they will offend him. If Emilio learns that his name was used, he should be able to warn his circle without feeling that he has failed. A care network can agree on simple phrases: “I received something strange in your name; I will confirm it with you.” “Thank you for asking before acting.” These responses restore value to the pause and reduce the power of deception to isolate its targets.
Local businesses and associations can contribute. A cooperative can tell its members about payment changes by letter and through a known telephone number, not solely by a link. A pharmacy or library can display updated information about official channels and direct questions without asking people to disclose data in public. These actions do not turn those places into police. They use their role as trusted points so people can find safe guidance before a costly decision.
After an incident, the response must preserve privacy. Sharing the pattern may help others, but there is no need to disclose the whole story of the person affected. Organisations can record which channel was imitated, which step was missing and which change they will make, without turning someone into an example. Shared learning works better when nobody must choose between seeking help and preserving dignity.
It is also worth watching indirect effects. If an anti-fraud measure adds five screens, who stops using the service? If it requires a modern phone, who must borrow one? If every enquiry becomes digital, who is left without a clear answer? Safety that shifts the problem toward people with fewer resources is not complete safety. A control is better when it reduces risk without making ordinary participation into an obstacle course.
Trust needs shared paths#
Digital fraud can reach Emilio even if he never downloads an application because he lives among people, institutions and agreements that do use technology. Recognising this does not mean he must abandon his habits or that others should decide for him. It means building verification paths that do not exclude: an official contact, human support, a family that asks respectfully and services offering genuine alternatives.
The strongest prevention is not the one that claims to be most technical. It is the one allowing every person to pause, understand what is happening and seek help without shame. When a community cares for these paths, a false message loses some of its power: it no longer finds an isolated person facing a screen or telephone, but a network able to check, accompany and protect the trust that makes shared life possible.
