When I say “the algorithm,” I’m talking about that voodoo magic social media platforms alike do to keep you hooked to their services. I.e., how they get you to keep doom-scrolling. I don’t need to write a whole preface to why that’s a bad thing. So it’s obvious that we should avoid pages of this nature. But it’s also obvious that it’s hard to do so—otherwise, everyone would’ve done it already; and the term “the algorithm” wouldn’t have been that dominating in the ever-popular narrative of social media addiction.
Originally, social media was a place to keep up with the things your friends are doing. Emphasis on your friends (if you consider celebrities as your friends, then sure, that works too). Because why should anyone care about what random strangers are doing with their lives? As such, social media of the olden days were pretty boring. It’s like scrolling on the home page of Goodreads. It lacks the substance to hook you because new content isn’t always there every time you refresh. And because you most definitely do not have an infinite number of friends, ten minutes of screen time daily is enough to get their life updates.
I can’t exactly remember when platforms started adding content from random strangers into a dedicated “explore” page. That definitely contributed to my social media addiction as a teenager, but what really got me hooked was when they started using the “slot machine effect.” Psychologist B.F. Skinner, in his theories on Operant Conditioning and Behaviourism, concluded that mice pressed a lever more obsessively if it only sometimes—rather than always—reward them with food. In the same way, social media platforms would give us an unpredictable mixed bag of interesting and dull content, so that our brain puts itself in a constant state of high anticipation. This is because dopamine spikes higher during the anticipation of a reward rather than when we actually get that reward.
Virtually all social media platforms exploit this natural human behavior. So, unless you want to completely disconnect yourself from updates of your friends’ daily activities, you have no choice but to pull the lever on the slot machine. When I think of it that way, I realize that trading our mental well-being for connectivity isn’t a fair transaction. Which is why I fundamentally think that it’s not wrong to intentionally block all the “algorithm”-induced features of social media platforms while keeping the bits we want[1]. Cherry-picking, so to speak.
It’s easier said than done, I agree. But there are ways. One is to exclusively use their web apps and remove features that feed you an endless stream of content through web extensions. And by “endless” I don’t mean just things like the recommended videos page on YouTube, but also things like comment sections. That is, all the bottomless pits. For YouTube, Unhook allows you to remove exactly those kinds of things. For Instagram, you can read my post on how I ditched Instagram’s home and explore pages but kept the DM feature.
A positive side effect of doing such a thing is the return of mindfulness for us when we connect with others. You start opening these apps with intention. No longer do you return to it again mindlessly within two seconds of closing it. “Social media” can return to what it originally was: a way to connect with and stay updated on our friends—no strings attached. And, if we ever need any specific content from random strangers—like restaurant recommendations in nearby areas—we can just whip up the search bar. What we see is dictated by what we want, not what the platform thinks is going to keep us staring at the screen.
Some may argue that our attention as users is how those platforms make money, and that it’s unfair for us to use their services to our advantage while preventing them from gaining revenue. The fact is, I’ll gladly pay for a monthly subscription to get rid of the doom-scrolling inducers. But they’re not going to make a premium “freedom from the algorithm” tier—because that will be like admitting that there’s a problem with the algorithm in the first place. ↩︎