From seconds to hours: How reels are changing the way we think

I unlocked my phone for ‘just a minute’, but forty-five minutes later, I was still there, watching a ‘get ready with me’ video, a baking recipe, a celebrity skincare routine, and a stranger’s breakup story unfold in rapid succession. Yet, forty-five minutes later, my mind felt oddly occupied with bits and pieces of information while simultaneously feeling completely empty.

How often do we encounter this phenomenon, where a two-minute scroll turns into an hour lost to a mindless stream of aesthetically pleasing clips? Are these reels merely a source of entertainment, or are they a form of engineered addiction quietly shaping our cognitive infrastructure?

An analogy from history can be drawn with this modern-day reels culture. The Roman poet Juvenal once coined the phrase “Bread and Circuses” to describe how necessities and shallow entertainment were used to keep citizens distracted and disengaged from politics and social issues. A similar pattern seems to have evolved into a new form of social control that is far more ubiquitous and deeply embedded in our everyday lives within a hyper-connected cosmopolitan culture. The social media platforms we roam for entertainment deliberately use algorithms that tailor content to our individual tastes, providing us with a non-stop stream of quick dopamine hits.

Lately, a very popular meme has been circulating on social media that jokes about being in a “reelationship” with someone simply by exchanging reels on a regular basis. It may sound harmless, even relatable, but it reflects a practice we should be careful not to normalise. When human interaction is reduced to sharing snippets through a virtual world, we are supplanting real-life communication with an artificially simulated and hollow form of intimacy. In doing so, we may be leaning towards a pattern of severe isolation and loneliness.

Doomscrolling often disguises itself as an escape from a mundane routine of life, offering us the illusion of exploration within our own comfort zones. But this façade of escape is, more often than not, a quiet form of avoidance.

This shift reveals itself in subtle yet consequential ways. It is not merely a change in our behaviour, but a transformation in how we think, what we believe, and how we react. Reels culture rewards feeling good over depth, quick reactions (likes, comments, and shares) over reflection, and consumption over genuine engagement. It conditions us to regard reels as a more palatable source of knowledge than sources that require effort and sustained attention to learn from. Learning that once demanded research, patience, and deep immersion is now being replaced by surface-level engagement. Consequently, writer’s block and reader’s block have become increasingly common struggles as our attention spans grow accustomed to these bite-sized pieces of content.

While this culture is often framed as a youth problem, frequently associated with Gen Z, it is a shared experience that is not confined to any particular demographic. When my seven-year-old niece casually spoke about recreating a trending TikTok she had come across while scrolling through social media, it became evident to me that this is no longer a niche internet phenomenon. Younger users may be more active and technologically adept at navigating these digital spaces, but they are not entirely immune to their adverse effects. Boomers and others left behind by this digital revolution, being less familiar with the technical workings of these platforms, may be even more vulnerable, often consuming content uncritically and struggling to distinguish between authentic and AI-generated material.

This raises an uncomfortable question: why are we so enthusiastically hooked on this reel addiction?

Doomscrolling often disguises itself as an escape from a mundane routine of life, offering us the illusion of exploration within our own comfort zones. But this façade of escape is, more often than not, a quiet form of avoidance.

The structure of reels culture is undeniably powerful, and it is not that reels have nothing fruitful to offer; they do. They can provide fast, surface-level insights, curated to inform or entertain in seconds. They offer a great space for creativity, expression, a sense of unity, and the ability to capture attention in ways few other formats can. But the real concern is whether we are subconsciously living through social media for the sake of fleeting dopamine rushes, euphemistic narratives, and easily digestible information.

An analogy from history can be drawn with this modern-day reels culture. The Roman poet Juvenal once coined the phrase “Bread and Circuses” to describe how necessities and shallow entertainment were used to keep citizens distracted and disengaged from politics and social issues. A similar pattern seems to have evolved into a new form of social control that is far more ubiquitous and deeply embedded in our everyday lives within a hyper-connected cosmopolitan culture. The social media platforms we roam for entertainment deliberately use algorithms that tailor content to our individual tastes, providing us with a non-stop stream of quick dopamine hits.

Reclaiming control does not require radical or revolutionary changes. It can begin with small, intentional choices that we make, such as reading at least a few pages instead of scrolling aimlessly, treating surface-level content as a starting point rather than a substitute for deeper learning, engaging more in real-life moments rather than defaulting to virtual ones, staying mindful of how much screen time we are spending, and choosing to actively create instead of merely consuming. These actions may seem insignificant in isolation, but gradually they can reshape the very way we deal with digital burnout. Every page of a book read can be a micro-rebellion against the algorithm designed to prevent us from finishing a single thought.

Consumerism will always try to entice us to acquire more: more material possessions, more content, more trends, and more information. However, more is not necessarily synonymous with growth. The fear of missing out, commonly known as FOMO among young people, makes us believe that we have to stay as updated as possible. Yet it is ultimately up to us to prudently navigate a structure designed to keep us glued to our screens, so that we can leverage its content in our favour rather than allowing that content to manipulate and consume us. After all, we cannot truly care about political, economic, or social issues if we choose to retreat into a life primarily lived through a screen. We may still talk about inequality, governance, and human rights, but we will do so as spectators rather than active participants. And a society of spectators cannot truly repair itself.

Adrita Islam is a lecturer specialising in political science and streaming media culture. She also works in broadcast journalism and is currently employed as a part-time news anchor.

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