How oversimplification is rewiring us and not in a good way.
I used to read the encyclopedia as a hobby in my college days.
Today, I catch myself scrolling 60-second Shorts on how to “heal your inner conflict”, “master AI prompts”, or “understand Philosophy in 30 seconds”. Somewhere between volume 5 of Britannica[1] and video 5 of a reel series, something got lost.
Let’s call it Dumbed Down by Design.
We live in the age of dumbing down. And it’s quietly messing with how our minds work, how we learn, how we relate to each other and perhaps most dangerously; how we think we understand the world.
What does “dumbing down” mean now?
Originally, “dumbing down” meant simplifying content to reach a wider audience. Reasonable, right?
But here’s what it means today:
- Leaving out all nuance.
- Reducing truth to soundbites.
- Trading complexity for virality.
Social media runs on it. AI tools often generate it. And most of us, if we’re honest, consume it.
We’re spoon-fed summaries. Fed AI-generated tutorials that feel like copy-paste wisdom. Told to “trust the algorithm”, even if we have no idea what it’s optimizing for.
And when complexity vanishes, we start losing something fundamental: our mental grip.
We’re not learning, we’re skimming
Here’s how I know something’s off.
I read an article headline and think I know the story. I watch two reels on a topic and start forming opinions. I ask ChatGPT something complicated and get a tidy answer and stop digging.
That’s not learning. That’s mental fast food. And like fast food, it feels good in the moment, but eat enough of it and you’ll start noticing the fog.
Psychologists call it cognitive offloading—outsourcing thinking to tools. Research shows this changes how we remember and learn (Sparrow et al., 2011)[2]. Basically, why bother storing info in your brain when Google or AI will give it back instantly?
Short term: it’s efficient. Long term: it hollows us out.
The young mind in a byte-size world
If adults like me are falling for this, imagine what it’s doing to kids.
Today’s teens live in a world where every idea comes pre-chewed. “Explained in 1 minute” is a selling point. Longform anything is a punchline.
I’ve seen 15-second explainers on complex issues like Palestine, depression, or quantum physics, with background music and bold captions like “Let’s break this down 🔥.”
It’s not just laughable. It’s dangerously shallow.
Research from Harvard showed that most young people can’t distinguish between a real news article and an ad or opinion piece (Wineburg et al., 2016)[3]. Why? Because they’re trained to consume, not question. To scroll, not sit. To react, not reflect.
Critical thinking doesn’t come from speed. It comes from wrestling with information, sitting in the fog, doubting, probing, connecting dots. It’s not about being right. It’s about being open to the right.
Short-form doesn’t train that muscle. Neither does Reels. They train a different one: dopamine-based instant gratification.
Misinformation loves it when we’re dumbed down
Oversimplified content doesn’t just dull our minds. It opens the gates wide for misinformation. For example:
Here’s a recipe:
- Take a complex topic.
- Strip out all the gray areas, all the nuances, all the details.
- Wrap it in emotional language.
- Add a bold font + background music (that’s must, turn it off and watch again).
- Post.
Congratulations, you’ve just made a viral lie.
Whether it’s fake health advice (“detox your liver with coke”), warped science (“5G causes cancer”), or political half-truths, simplified content thrives because it feels true, fast.
And the brain loves “fast truths”. They feel safer. Cleaner. Easier to digest.
But clean answers to dirty problems? They usually mean you missed the real work.
In the attention seeking, short “educational” content, the background music is not just for the mood. It directly attacks your senses. It’s like a sedative for your mind. It cripples your ability to rationally think.
The joy of not understanding (yet)
Lately, I have been reading “Freedom from the known” by J. Krishnamurti.
I’m learning to love being confused again.
To reread the same paragraph.
To pause halfway through because I don’t get it.
To say, “I need to think about this more”, instead of pretending I know.
There’s a kind of dignity in slowness. And a weird joy in not having the answer right away.
Studies show we remember things better when we struggle to understand them initially, what psychologists call “desirable difficulties” (Bjork & Bjork, 2020)[4].
Translation: effort leads to deeper memory.
When everything is “too easy”, we stop engaging deeply.
When everything is “too short”, we lose the ability to sit with tension.
How I’m climbing out of the trap
Not preaching here, this is personal.
At some point, I realized I was shrinking. Not physically, but mentally. My attention span was brittle.
I avoided books that made me work. If something took more than five minutes, I skipped it. This went on for over 3 years.
So here’s what I’m doing to rehydrate my mind:
- I read things that confuse me now. Philosophy. Science. Stuff that doesn’t hand me answers on a silver plate. I don’t always get it, and that’s the point. Confusion is a teacher. It stretches the mind.
- I watch slow content. Longform interviews. Philosophical talks. Documentaries without soundbites. It hurts at first. Then it feels like breathing.
- When something’s unclear, I journal it out. Writing doesn’t just express thoughts—it creates them. And writing slowly? That’s the new rebellion.
- I say “I don’t know” a lot. It’s surprisingly hard. But it makes room for learning. For nuance. For truth. And frankly, it’s a relief to stop pretending.
- I laugh at the absurdity sometimes. Yes, I once bookmarked a 20-second video on “how to be master AI”. We live in strange times. Might as well chuckle on the way up.
Finally,
We’re not inherently built to be dumb. We’re just being trained to act like we are. The internet rewards speed. Social media rewards emotion. AI rewards pattern.
But life rewards depth. The kind of depth you can’t shrink into a sentence. The kind of knowledge that isn’t tweetable. The kind of mind that knows when to slow down, and wonder.
Let’s not become vending machines for ideas. Let’s become gardens. Messy. Rich. Slowly growing. Occasionally blooming.
It’s harder. But it’s real.
#Unself
Last updated: 2025-05-30
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