IN BANGLADESH, as across much of the globe, the rapid rise of short-form video content — those tightly-edited, punchy clips accompanied by music, challenges and original skits — has come to dominate how we consume entertainment and even how we relate to one another. Platforms such as Facebook, Instagram and TikTok have popularised these formats, particularly among the youth. Designed to seize attention and trigger engagement, these reels are often enhanced by algorithm-driven visibility and user-friendly editing tools, making them widely accessible and addictive. What began as a form of light-hearted entertainment has now become embedded in the everyday culture, shaping how Bangladeshis express themselves, socialise and view the world.
Increasingly, people now prioritise capturing a moment rather than experiencing it. A sunset, a concert, or even a religious gathering becomes a backdrop for content. Across the country — from Cox’s Bazar’s beaches to Eid prayers in local mosques — people can be seen holding up their phones, framing the perfect shot. The impulse to share one’s life online has in many cases begun to replace true emotional connection. Life’s most precious moments are no longer lived fully; they are staged, edited, filtered and uploaded. The spectacle often trumps the substance.
Among the most active participants in this trend are adolescents and young adults — students in schools, colleges and universities. Their days, once filled with studies, sports and face-to-face friendships, are now absorbed by content creation and the relentless pursuit of viral fame. Metrics like views, likes and shares have become substitutes for confidence, academic success, or personal growth. In this race for online validation, many young people are sacrificing long-term aspirations for fleeting visibility, undermining their own potential in the process.
This trend has also ushered in a lifestyle that prizes performance over authenticity. On social media, carefully curated profiles project images of happiness, wealth, beauty and trendiness — even if these bear little resemblance to reality. Clothing, speech and behaviour are often tailored not to the self, but to the camera. The emphasis is no longer on being but on appearing. The pressure to maintain this façade has fostered a culture where superficial impressions matter more than real growth or emotional depth. What we see is not who people are, but who they want to appear to be.
Social gatherings are not spared. Weddings, picnics, religious events and family functions are now overrun with phones and professional photo setups. Rather than enjoying the moment — whether it’s a bride’s entry, a child’s laughter, or the beat of a dhol — attendees are often preoccupied with capturing ‘Instagrammable’ shots. In this process, the warmth of human presence is lost. Guests become cameramen; traditions are turned into content; and memory becomes spectacle, curated not for remembrance but for reaction.
The psychological cost of this shift is becoming evident. The constant stream of polished, idealised images can breed insecurity, anxiety, and depression — especially among young people. Exposure to unattainable standards and glamorous lifestyles online often triggers unhealthy comparisons, leading to feelings of inadequacy and low self-worth. The fear of missing out — commonly known as FOMO — drives individuals to compulsively engage with trends, often at the expense of their own peace of mind. Emotional exhaustion is an increasingly common consequence of what is essentially a never-ending performance for a digital audience.
Yet this trend is not merely personal; it is increasingly commercial. In Bangladesh, businesses, influencers and content creators now exploit viral trends for visibility and profit. Sponsored reels, product placements and algorithm-targeted posts flood timelines. While this has opened up new avenues for digital entrepreneurship and creative expression, it has also blurred the line between genuine content and clickbait. Many creators now prioritise virality over originality, reducing their work to formulaic imitations aimed solely at gaining traction, not at conveying meaningful narratives.
The broader cultural implications are equally troubling. Influenced by global content, young Bangladeshis are increasingly drifting away from traditional customs, clothing, language and festivals. Western aesthetics dominate their screens, often at the cost of local heritage. Traditional music, dance and folk celebrations struggle to compete with TikTok trends and Instagram reels. As such, the vibrant cultural identity of Bangladesh risks being diluted in the name of modernity, with heritage replaced by homogeneity.
The pursuit of online attention also raises serious safety concerns. Sharing personal information, real-time locations and lifestyle details can have dangerous consequences. In Bangladesh, women and adolescent girls, in particular, are vulnerable to cyberbullying, harassment and real-world threats stemming from their online presence. What seems like harmless content can be exploited by malicious actors. Without robust digital literacy and boundaries, the thirst for popularity can lead to exposure, exploitation and trauma.
Another long-term effect of this digital obsession is the erosion of patience and the growing dependency on instant gratification. Each like or comment offers a hit of dopamine, reinforcing the desire for more. This loop fosters addiction, shortens attention spans and disincentivises perseverance. Students struggle to concentrate, professionals lose depth in thought, and relationships grow shallow. Long-term goals and meaningful pursuits are increasingly sacrificed at the altar of instant digital validation.
Human connection is perhaps under threat. Where once relationships were built on face-to-face interactions, spontaneous conversations and shared experiences, today they are filtered through screens. Even the most intimate moments — birthday surprises, family dinners, romantic dates — are now often interrupted for a selfie or story update. The performative act of living for an audience displaces the joy of simply being with others. Emotional intimacy is sacrificed for digital performance, turning real life into something curated and broadcasted rather than felt and remembered.
In this climate of ceaseless trends and content cycles, it becomes essential to reassess our digital habits. Social media can be a tool of connection, creativity and community — but only when used mindfully. We must learn to savour the moment first: to laugh, connect and feel, before reaching for the camera. Not every memory needs documentation. Physical presence should never be compromised for virtual applause. By striking a balance, we can remain engaged in the digital world without allowing it to consume the essence of our lived reality.
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MD Noor Hamza Peash is a Law student at the World University of Bangladesh.
