THE HYPER-NORMAL DREAM: How social media traps us and deepens inequality

BY MOIRA J.

I started to realise a while back that my phone was making me anxious. I noticed how I kept reaching for it whenever I felt a bit low or a bit bored and how even a short scroll turned into half an hour, then an hour. The little hits of dopamine were subtle, but they were there. A like. A new message. A reel that hit just right. It felt like something. But afterwards, I often felt worse, drained, anxious and foggy. Like my brain had been on a treadmill going nowhere.

That’s when I began setting limits. I deleted some apps. Turned off notifications. Gave myself actual screen-free days. It wasn’t because I’m anti-tech, but it was because I realised it was messing with my head. And I know I’m not the only one. Rising levels of anxiety, loneliness and depression, especially among younger people, aren’t just coincidences. Social media isn't the sole cause but it’s playing a major part. Constant comparison. Information overload. The sense that everyone else is doing better, looking better, living better. It’s exhausting.

There was a time that wasn’t that long ago when social media felt like it could change everything. It was sold to us as this powerful new space where information would be shared freely, where voices that had always been pushed to the margins could finally speak and be heard. It was supposed to bring people together. Level the playing field. Democratise everything.

But somewhere along the way the promise faded. And now it feels like we’re living in a kind of dream and not a good one, but a strange, looping one where everything looks familiar, but nothing quite feels real.

We spend our days and nights scrolling. We tell ourselves we’re keeping up, staying informed, expressing ourselves. But it’s more like we’re trapped inside a system that doesn’t want us to see the full picture. The algorithms are so sophisticated that it knows us too well. It feeds us content that we like and simply reflects what we already think, what we already believe, what already keeps us hooked.

These platforms aren’t neutral. They’ve become vast echo chambers, shaped by algorithms so powerful they can anticipate our reactions before we even have them. And the result is isolation disguised as engagement. We don’t see the world; we see a narrow and filtered slice of it designed to keep us scrolling. All we are really seeing is ourselves – our own thoughts, values and beliefs reflected back at ourselves.

We keep clicking, they (the tech billionaires) profit.

Meanwhile, the real world, the one with actual people in and actual communities, is quietly falling apart. Town centres are empty. Public services are stretched thin. Inequality is widening. The economy feels like it’s hollowed out, working for fewer and fewer people. But those at the top, especially in tech, keep getting richer.

Social media hasn’t closed the gap. It’s made it wider and often more invisible.

Representation and diversity once seen as central to the promise of the internet have become performative, surface-level things. Inclusion is reduced to branding. Meanwhile, the people most affected by injustice are marginalised communities, workers the global poor. They are often drowned out by louder, more algorithm-friendly voices. Or worse, simply not shown at all.

The platforms weren’t built for equity. They were built for engagement.

And somewhere in all this, even politics starts to feel fake. The big names Trump, Putin, Kim Jong Un aren’t just political figures anymore. They’re media personalities, pantomime villains that keep the machine running. They’re designed to provoke, to divide. Not to lead. Their role isn’t necessarily to govern, but to keep us reacting. And when we react, the system thrives. Our emotions are now part of someone else’s business model.

We think we’re part of a conversation. But most of the time, we’re not. We’re just components, data points, keeping the cycle going.

It’s like we’re too deep inside the system to see beyond it. The fakeness isn’t even shocking anymore. It’s normal. Hypernormal. So normal, in fact, that trying to point it out just sounds like paranoia. Or pessimism.

But maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just the truth we’ve gotten used to ignoring.

Because if we’re honest, a system like this can’t really fix inequality. It can’t make society more just. It’s too invested in keeping things exactly as they are, wrapped in the illusion of progress, while the same few people stay in power and the rest of us keep scrolling.

So where does that leave us?

Not powerless. But not free, either.

The first step is seeing it. Really seeing it. Recognising that the dream we’ve been living in isn’t real connection and that it’s distraction. That the system we thought might help us express ourselves is often just using our voices to keep us inside.

We can’t algorithm our way to justice. But we can start to look outside the frame. Listen to those whose stories don’t trend. Centre the voices that don’t get fed into our feeds. Reconnect with what’s real, even if it’s uncomfortable.

Because things don’t have to stay like this. But nothing changes unless we wake up.