The Great Instagram Decay: How we chose chaos over creativity

Right now, someone is posting a random selfie asking Suniel Shetty and Ahaan Shetty to comment or they will not watch Border 2. And they are actually commenting.

This is 2026, where Instagram has become a digital wasteland of zero-effort content, raking in millions of views while actual creators struggle to breathe. But here is the uncomfortable truth we need to swallow: this is not Instagram's fault. It is ours.

Instagram's algorithm has transformed dramatically over the past year. Research shows the platform now deprioritises reposted content and favours original creation. December 2025 introduced "Your Algorithm," letting users control what topics appear in their feeds. These changes were meant to help quality creators. So why does it feel like the opposite happened?

Because we, the consumers, keep feeding the beast with our attention. We scroll past educational content in three seconds but watch a thirst trap for thirty. We skip a carefully crafted tutorial but share a lazy screenshot of a tweet. The algorithm is not pushing garbage—we are pulling it toward us with every double-tap and share.

Think about it. When was the last time you sat through a three-minute informational video without checking if there was a "hook" in the first three seconds? Our brains have been rewired to expect instant gratification, and Instagram simply became a mirror reflecting our deteriorating attention spans back at us.

Your brain on short-form content looks concerning. The science is alarming. Average attention spans on screens have plummeted from 2.5 minutes in 2004 to just 47 seconds today. Dr Gloria Mark, who studies attention spans, documented this dramatic decline over two decades. We are not just distracted—we are cognitively restructured.

Studies on teenagers who spend over two hours daily on social media show lower test scores and reduced academic performance. The constant bombardment of brief, engaging content creates what researchers call "cognitive overload." Our working memory capacity decreases, cognitive control weakens, and maintaining focus becomes genuinely difficult.

Here is what happens inside your skull when you scroll through Instagram Reels for an hour: Your brain enters a state of "constant partial attention," never fully engaging with anything. The prefrontal cortex, responsible for decision-making and focus, gets overwhelmed. Meanwhile, dopamine hits from likes and views create a reward cycle that makes longer, complex content feel boring or difficult.

Research specifically examining short-form videos found they create "fragmented attention spans" that struggle with structured information delivery. When students transition from watching 60-second Reels to sitting through hour-long lectures, they report physical discomfort and inability to concentrate. This is not laziness. This is a neurological adaptation.

Let us talk about what actually gets views now. Some "comedy content creators"—and I use that term very loosely—are making videos first trolling actors like Varun Dhawan, then making follow-up videos asking people not to troll him. No script. No creativity. Just a face talking at a camera. These videos get millions of views.

Meanwhile, educators creating comprehensive guides on financial literacy or mental health struggle to cross ten thousand views. Artists posting intricate time-lapse videos of their work get buried. The effort-to-reward ratio has completely inverted.

The Border 2 phenomenon perfectly encapsulates this insanity. People are literally posting random selfies saying they will not watch the film unless the stars comment. And the stars are commenting. This is not marketing genius—this is desperation meeting delusion, and Instagram rewards it.

Thirst traps pull millions of views and shares. Not because they are creative or valuable, but because they trigger immediate visual response. Our brains are wired to notice attractive faces and bodies—evolution did that. But we were also supposed to develop beyond our base instincts. Instagram built a platform that profits from keeping us trapped in them.

Remember when songs had bridges? Remember when music built toward something instead of hooking you in five seconds and repeating the same eight bars? Those days are dying, murdered by TikTok and Instagram's demands.

According to data from last year, 84 per cent of songs entering the Billboard Global 200 went viral on TikTok first. Artists who once wrote four-minute songs now target 2:30 because anything longer gets skipped. Taylor Swift's tracks averaged nearly five minutes in 2010. By 2019, they had shrunk to 3.5 minutes. This is algorithmic compression.

Musicians are literally told by record labels they cannot release songs unless they can "fake a viral moment on TikTok." Halsey spoke openly about this pressure, revealing how an eight-year career with 165 million records sold meant nothing compared to a 15-second TikTok snippet.

The music industry now operates on a terrifying premise: if your song does not hook listeners in the first few seconds, it is dead. Intros are extinct. Build-ups are liabilities. Complexity is commercial suicide. We have reduced centuries of musical evolution to the attention span of a goldfish—and research suggests even goldfish might have us beat at nine seconds.

If you think Instagram Reels represent peak content degradation, vertical short dramas tell a different story. These 60-90 second episodic shows, pioneered in China, have exploded globally. Apps like ReelShort, DramaBox, and GoodShort generated hundreds of millions in revenue in 2024.

China's micro-drama market alone hit 50.5 billion yuan (approximately 7 billion dollars) in 2024, with 576 million users. The international market is following the same trajectory, with U.S. downloads reaching 370 million and revenues hitting 700 million dollars—a 500 per cent year-over-year jump.

These are not quality productions. They are formulaic, melodramatic, cliffhanger-driven content designed for one purpose: keeping you swiping to the next episode. Each "episode" lasts one to two minutes—roughly the length of time we can now focus on anything.

The existence and massive success of these platforms is not a coincidence. It is a symptom. We have collectively decided that complex narratives, character development, and meaningful storytelling are too exhausting. We want betrayal, revenge, and resolution in 90 seconds, then we want the next hit.

India is not immune. Similar platforms are emerging here, adapting the formula for local audiences. The fact that we are importing content formats designed around shrinking attention spans should terrify us more than it apparently does.

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Here is something most people do not realise: follower counts now determine if artists get hired. A talented musician with 5,000 followers loses opportunities to an average one with 50,000. Photographers, designers, writers—all face the same reality. Your skill matters less than your Instagram metrics.

This is not just about vanity. Brands and companies use follower counts as a proxy for reach and influence. They assume high followers equal valuable voices, even when those followers came from follow-for-follow schemes or were straight-up purchased.

The result? Artists spend more time gaming algorithms than honing their craft. They post content they know will perform rather than work they are proud of. The Instagram grid becomes a performance space where authenticity dies, and engagement farming thrives.

And we enable this. Every time we follow someone because they are already popular, every time we scroll past genuine talent because it does not grab us in three seconds, we reinforce this broken system.

So who is to blame? Not the creators grinding out whatever content the algorithm favours—they are trying to survive. Not even Instagram, really. The platform gives us what we demonstrate we want through our behaviour.

The blame sits with us. We trained the algorithm with our clicks, shares, and watch times. We told Instagram we prefer quick hits over deep dives. We signalled that effort does not matter if the hook is weak.

Research shows we open TikTok and Instagram about 20 times daily, spending 58 minutes on these platforms. We are actively choosing to feed our brains this diet of fragmented, low-nutrition content. We know it makes us feel empty and distracted, and we keep coming back.

Even this article—if you made it this far without checking your phone, congratulations. You just demonstrated attention span capacity that is becoming increasingly rare. But be honest: how many times did you think about scrolling to something else?

This is not just about social media annoyance. Studies link excessive social media use to impaired attention, reduced working memory, diminished executive functioning, and increased anxiety. Teenagers showing signs of social media addiction struggle with everything from academic performance to basic task completion.

We are raising a generation whose brains are developing in an environment of constant distraction. Their neural pathways are being shaped by algorithmic feeds designed to maximise engagement, not human flourishing. The long-term consequences are unknown, but early signs are deeply concerning.

And it is spreading beyond just youth. Adults report difficulty reading books, watching full movies, or having extended conversations without checking their phones. We are collectively becoming worse at being human—less capable of deep thought, sustained focus, and meaningful connection.

Instagram did not degrade on its own. We degraded it through our collective choices. Every view we give to zero-effort content, every skip of something meaningful, every like on hollow engagement bait—these are votes for the world we are getting.

The algorithm will give us exactly what we show it we want. If we want substance, we need to consume substance. If we want creativity, we need to reward creativity. If we want platforms that enrich rather than exploit us, we need to act as it matters.

Look at your own behaviour. What are you rewarding with your attention? What kind of internet are you voting for with every tap and scroll? The Instagram you deserve is the Instagram you create through your choices. Right now, we are choosing chaos. And chaos is exactly what we are getting.