Passive Consumption
Somewhere, deep in the bowels of one of TikTok’s many data centers, exists a copy of you. Another one rests in the data centers of Meta, and yet another in Google. There is no flesh, no blood, no organs, no physical representations, but you nonetheless. A documentation of your innermost desires, your primal wants, your hobbies, your friends, your family, your grocery lists, your childhood nicknames, your dreams, and your nightmares. Instagram knows exactly how long you spent lingering on that ad for new running shorts. TikTok knows exactly how many times you watched that GTA V clip. Every touch of the screen, every swipe of the finger, every like, comment, save, every profile viewed, every name searched. All data is saved, compiled, and fed through monstrous algorithms to recreate you as accurately as possible. They predict your every move, constantly testing you to see what you like and dislike, always learning, always growing. The end goal: a personalized feed, tailored just to your liking. The perfect rollercoaster every time you open the app. Millions of man-hours have been put into designing these algorithms, and to what end? The name of the game is time.
The longer that these apps can keep you engaged, scrolling, watching, and reacting, the more ads they can show you; the more money they can make. It is a business model that heavily rewards addiction and cares none for enrichment. The most successful manifestation of these algorithms has been through the outlet of short-form video content. These algorithms have not only optimized what content to show us but also the format through which to show it. It’s the TikTok, the Instagram reels, the YouTube shorts. These platforms provide the perfect combination of novelty and familiarity and make hours of scrolling feel like only minutes.
A core element of how these platforms work is that the user is no longer the main curator of content. When engaging with other forms of content, such as movies, books, and TV, you must seek out specific content to engage with. On TikTok, all of the decisions are made for you. All you must do is sit back and watch. This can be damaging for a variety of reasons. In seeking out media you take an active role in what you consume, building connections with the material and those involved with its production. You develop tastes, preferences, and opinions to help determine what you may seek out in the future. You are forced to consider why you gravitated towards some movie or show or topic, if that was a good decision, and if you would consume more of it. You must evaluate your own choices and thinking. There are no choices on TikTok and Instagram reels. You can like a post, maybe even save it. That is it. It may come up again, the algorithm may be tipped off to a preference you have, but you will never know, much less would you ever get to decide.
The bigger problem, though, is time. One of the most potent and ruthlessly efficient tools of these platforms is their utilization of time. Content is presented for just long enough to be perceived, reacted to, and then is gone. In a movie, hours can be spent expanding upon the same ideas, developing the same characters, and constructing the same theme. A book can do the same over a period of days or even weeks. A TV show can do the same over a period of months. This amount of time allows your brain to gain an understanding of the implications of the content being consumed. There is time to think, to form opinions and ideas of your own, comprehend the events, interpersonal relationships, and motifs. There is enrichment to be had and knowledge to be gained. Short-form video content seldom brings such mental engagement. An understanding can be had in the moment, you can feel like you are learning, but after three hours of scrolling, can you recall a single video watched? The interesting facts presented are not given enough time to be remembered before they are replaced by a podcast clip or Minecraft parkour footage. A week later, periods of time spent scrolling feel like gaps in memory. So much can be consumed, but so little is gained.
There can be an element of hopelessness in all of this. On a bigger scale, there is nothing to be done. This is the inevitable march of technological advancement, and without a major cultural shift or extensive government regulation, these companies will only keep marching on. The side effects of these kinds of technology invading our lives - that of anxiety, depression, and reduced attention spans - are only just that: side effects, inevitable harms of a system designed not to care about harm being done. For now, the only solution is an individual one. Delete these apps, or at least be mindful of their involvement in your life. These apps can still provide some service through communication with others, news consumption, and temporary stress relief when really needed. But use these apps as a tool, and try not to let them use you as a tool instead. Scrolling on TikTok, Instagram reels, or YouTube shorts may feel exciting, interesting, informative, and important, but only because it was designed to make you feel that way. These apps are in no way a replacement for learning, interaction, engagement, and experience. So, when you can help it, close these apps, and try to do something that’s better for you. Almost anything else is.
Written by Nathan Brooks, Design: Morgan Tran, Social Media: Matthews Naranjo, Videography: Antonio Gutierrez