Published: October 8, 2025, 01:29 AM
In an age where every swipe brings a new face, sound, or story, Gen Z’s minds are adapting and struggling. As reels, TikToks, and shorts reshape how we learn and think, experts warn that the quest for constant stimulation may be costing us our focus, patience, and depth of thought.
Ilustration: The News Compress/ST
A few seconds, that’s all it takes to scroll past a video today. Swipe up, another one begins. A face, a sound, a meme, a dance. Within half a minute, you’ve seen ten different worlds, none of which last in your mind for long. For Generation Z, this rhythm is the new normal. But scientists now warn that this constant carousel of short videos may be quietly shrinking our ability to focus, read deeply, or think patiently.
Once, the challenge of youth was boredom. Today, it is over-stimulation.
In 2020, when lockdowns forced millions indoors, apps like TikTok, Instagram Reels, and YouTube Shorts exploded in popularity. Their format, quick, colorful, bite-sized was perfect for the digital age. What began as 15-second lip-sync clips soon evolved into mini-tutorials, political commentary, recipes, jokes, and motivational quotes.
According to a 2024 Pew Research Center report, 95% of teenagers in the U.S. now use YouTube, 67% use TikTok, and a similar percentage use Instagram Reels daily. Bangladesh, India, and other Asian nations mirror this trend, where short video apps have become cultural phenomena.
But with this rise came a quieter concern among educators, neuroscientists, and psychologists is this new digital diet altering the very way our brains work?
In popular media, it’s often said that Gen Z’s attention span has dropped to eight seconds, one second less than that of a goldfish. Though catchy, this comparison is more myth than science. Still, the underlying worry is real.
A Microsoft study from 2015 first popularized the “eight-second attention span” idea, claiming that the average person’s ability to focus had fallen from 12 seconds in 2000 to eight in 2013. Later analyses found the number simplistic, but the pattern, decreasing tolerance for long, static content, has since been confirmed by multiple research studies.
Dr. Gloria Mark, a digital media researcher at the University of California, Irvine, found that in 2004, office workers focused on a single screen for about 150 seconds before switching tasks. By 2022, that number dropped to 47 seconds. “We are training our minds to crave interruptions,” she says.
Short videos work because they stimulate the brain’s reward system. Each clip offers something new, a joke, a sound, an image and triggers a small burst of dopamine, the neurotransmitter linked to pleasure and anticipation. The next video promises another hit, and so the scrolling continues.
This rapid-reward loop conditions the brain to seek constant novelty. Over time, it becomes harder to focus on slower, more complex activities such as reading a book, studying, or listening to a lecture.
A 2024 paper published in the International Journal of Indian Psychology reviewed 30 studies and concluded that reels “boost engagement but increase distraction and cognitive overload.” Another study from NCBI (National Center for Biotechnology Information) found that excessive short-video consumption was linked to weaker attentional control and higher academic procrastination among university students.
In simple terms: the more reels students watched, the harder it was for them to focus, and the more likely they were to delay tasks that required concentration.
Why our brains struggle with endless scrolling
Psychologists explain this using several mechanisms:
This pattern resembles what behavioral scientists call “variable reward” learning, the same principle used in slot machines. You never know which reel (or video) will delight you next, so you keep scrolling.
Recent studies across continents point toward a consistent trend:
A 2023 study in India found that heavy users of short videos performed worse on sustained attention tests and reported greater restlessness during lectures.
In Kosovo, a survey of 150 undergraduates showed a clear link between time spent watching reels and lower academic performance.
A ResearchGate study (2024) among high-school students found that those watching short videos for more than two hours daily scored significantly lower in exams.
Meanwhile, a Saudi Arabian study (2025) measured attention using the classic “Stroop task.” While results were mixed, students who consumed fewer short videos showed slightly better executive control.
These studies don’t prove that reels cause poor attention, correlation is not causation, but they consistently reveal a troubling pattern.
Teachers around the world are noticing a shift. Lessons that once held attention for 40 minutes now lose students within ten. Reading long paragraphs feels “too much.” Many teachers describe a “TikTok brain”, students crave constant stimulation and struggle with delayed gratification.
A Dhaka-based schoolteacher shared, “When I assign reading tasks, half my students skim or switch tabs within minutes. But when I use a short video, engagement spikes. They are more reactive than reflective.”
This isn’t unique to Bangladesh. A 2023 survey by Common Sense Media found that 68% of U.S. teachers believe their students’ ability to focus has declined due to short-form video use.
Yet, not everyone views reels as villains. Some researchers argue that Gen Z’s attention is not shorter but different. They are skilled at scanning, filtering, and multitasking across multiple streams of information, a form of attentional flexibility.
Short videos can also be creative tools. Educational reels have made science, history, and art accessible to millions. Teachers and activists use them to spark curiosity and awareness in ways traditional lectures never could. The key question is not whether reels exist, but how we use them.
As media theorist Douglas Rushkoff puts it, “Technology doesn’t change us; it amplifies what’s already there.”
Behind the shrinking attention span lies a trillion-dollar business model: the attention economy. Platforms make money by keeping users scrolling. Algorithms study what makes you stop a face, a word, a color, and feed you more of it. Every second you watch translates to advertising revenue.
This business model has little incentive to preserve your focus. The goal is engagement, not education. As Tristan Harris, former Google design ethicist, warns, “We are all lab rats in a global experiment where our attention is the product.”
In this sense, the decline in attention span is not just a personal failing, it’s a public health issue.
If reels are here to stay, how can Gen Z protect their minds?
The danger of a shrinking attention span goes beyond academics. It affects relationships, empathy, and even democracy. When people consume information in fragments, they struggle to see nuance or context. Social media outrage thrives on short attention and fast emotion.
Dr. Maryanne Wolf, a neuroscientist at UCLA and author of Reader, Come Home, warns, “The digital skim reading style threatens the deep reading brain, the very circuitry that allows empathy and critical thinking.”
If we lose our ability to read deeply, she says, “we risk losing part of our humanity.”
Perhaps the solution is not to reject reels but to rebalance. Gen Z grew up in a visual, fast, and interconnected world, expecting them to abandon it is unrealistic. But we can teach them to move fluidly between fast and slow attention.
A healthy digital diet could mean using reels to learn a concept quickly, then turning to a podcast or long article to explore it deeply. It’s about integrating speed with depth, not choosing one over the other.
Despite criticisms, Gen Z remains one of the most creative, conscious, and tech-savvy generations in history. They’ve mobilized climate movements, started social campaigns, and built startups, often using the same digital tools blamed for their distraction.
The problem, then, isn’t Gen Z’s weakness. It’s the environment designed to hijack their focus. Rebuilding attention is possible, but it requires awareness, intention, and collective effort from individuals, educators, and tech companies alike.
As one student told me during an interview, “Maybe my attention span isn’t short, maybe it’s just tired.”
The story of Gen Z’s shrinking attention span is really the story of the modern world: a world where time is currency and focus is luxury. Reels, TikToks, and shorts have reshaped how we see, learn, and live for better and for worse.
But attention, like any skill, can be reclaimed. It begins with noticing when our minds drift, choosing when to scroll, and remembering that what we pay attention to, we ultimately become.
