From political disasters to Facebook, TikTok and videos of cats behaving badly, I have begun wondering whether my daily scrolling is informing, entertaining or simply stealing my time.

I have developed a habit that millions of people share. Every day, I spend approximately 30 minutes scrolling through BBC, CNN news, Facebook, TikTok and whatever else the internet decides I ought to find interesting.

I tell myself I am keeping informed, maintaining friendships, and occasionally learning something useful. Yet I often emerge half an hour later having accomplished remarkably little, apart from discovering that somebody in Australia owns a particularly intelligent dog.

This behaviour is often described by the fashionable term doomscrolling, although strictly speaking, that describes compulsively consuming negative news. 

Much of my scrolling is considerably more cheerful. Facebook offers friends, photographs, humour, and community discussions. TikTok provides entertainment, demonstrations, and occasionally genuinely useful knowledge.

The trouble is that one interesting item leads effortlessly to another, and before long I have forgotten what I originally intended to discover.

The technology is extraordinarily effective at holding our attention. Infinite scrolling removes the natural stopping points provided by newspapers and books, while recommendation algorithms select material based partly on our previous behaviour.

I might begin by reading about international politics and finish by watching somebody restore a Victorian door hinge. Neither subject is necessarily harmful, although I am unlikely to encounter that particular hinge again.

Is this addiction? The evidence demands caution. A 2023 study published in Applied Research in Quality of Life found associations between doomscrolling, psychological distress, problematic social media use, and reduced wellbeing. 

However, doomscrolling itself is not a recognised clinical addiction, and spending thirty minutes online does not establish that somebody has a disorder.

The effects on our thinking are equally complicated. A 2024 report from the US National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine identified both benefits and potential harms from social media, including positive opportunities for connection, learning and entertainment, alongside risks of distraction and the displacement of other activities.

This report concerned adolescents, so applying its conclusions directly to someone of my age would be scientifically questionable. Nevertheless, the underlying question about how we distribute our attention remains relevant.

I sometimes wonder whether I am exercising my brain or merely entertaining it. 

Watching an intelligent discussion might broaden my understanding. Reading an interesting article could challenge my assumptions. But does watching fifteen unrelated videos in 10 minutes encourage reflection, or simply train me to expect something new whenever my interest begins to wander?

There is no convincing evidence that my particular habit is permanently damaging my brain. The more immediate concern is whether I am allowing other people, and the algorithms serving their material, to decide how I spend my time.

And time is where the arithmetic becomes uncomfortable.

Spending 30 minutes every day equals 182.5 hours annually, or slightly more than seven and a half complete days. Assuming the habit remains unchanged, that becomes 76 days over 10 years—a total of more than two months spent scrolling. 

In that time, I could write another book, improve my pottery or sit in the garden doing absolutely nothing, which philosophers might argue is occasionally a worthwhile occupation.

But perhaps scrolling is not automatically wasted time. Enjoyment has value. Maintaining relationships matters. A funny video can brighten an otherwise difficult day. We do not demand that every conversation, television programme or walk in the countryside produce measurable intellectual improvement.

The distinction, I suspect, lies between choosing how to spend time and discovering only afterwards that it has been spent. If I deliberately enjoy half an hour on Facebook, there is little reason for guilt. If I intended to spend five minutes and lost 30 without noticing, 

I have surrendered more than time. I have surrendered choice.

At my age, that distinction is increasingly important. Life is finite, whatever assurances technology offers about unlimited content.

Perhaps the simplest way to regain control over our social media habits is to begin with a question: ‘why am I opening this app?’ 

Too often, reaching for our phones has become an unconscious reflex, something we do while waiting for a kettle to boil, sitting on a bus, or escaping a moment of boredom. Yet there is a considerable difference between using social media with a clear intention and allowing it to consume our attention without purpose.

A practical approach is to pause for five seconds before opening an app, decide what we want to achieve and close it once that purpose has been fulfilled. Try this for a week and observe how often the urge to scroll disappears when we question it. 

We do not necessarily need stricter rules or complete digital abstinence. Sometimes, simply replacing habit with conscious choice is enough to begin reclaiming our time.

After all, the aim is not to spend less time looking at a screen merely for the sake of it, but to make more room for the people, experiences and activities that make life worthwhile.

A healthier relationship with social media begins with using it deliberately rather than allowing it to dictate our attention. Another practical approach is to adopt a simple ‘Purpose, Limit, Reflect’ routine. 

Before opening an app, decide why you are using it, whether to communicate, learn or relax. Set a reasonable time limit, perhaps 15 to 20 minutes per session, and close the app when that time expires. 

Disable unnecessary notifications and establish screen-free periods during meals, family conversations, and before bedtime. At the end of each week, review your screen-time statistics and consider whether that time was worthwhile. 

The objective is not to eliminate social media but to regain control over our attention, ensuring that technology enriches our lives rather than quietly consuming the time we could spend living them.

After all, when my time eventually runs out, I doubt my final regret will be missing a video of a cat falling off a sofa.

Unless, of course, it was a particularly good one.

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