Why your newsfeed feels like a family reunion gone haywire – Part 1

Illustration of a Group of people staring emotionlessly into their phones

October 31, 2025

Picture this: You land on the couch, exhausted, and reach for your phone. Instantly, you’re bombarded by angry rants, polarizing memes, doomscroll news… and then, every so often, a raccoon in a shower cap baking banana bread. Thank goodness for that reminder that the internet still has surprises. If your online world sometimes feels smaller, louder, and more predictable than your book club’s WhatsApp group—it’s not just you.

Your personal algorithmic circus – Maybe don’t feed the lions

Say you lingered a few seconds too long on one video about sourdough bread. By lunchtime your feed is all “10 Ways to Bake Bread,” “Bread breakup” and “Watch Me Prove Sourdough’s Been Cancelled.” That’s not magic—it’s manic math.

Think of social feeds as engineered by an invisible stage manager who’s read your diary, eavesdropped on your phone calls, and still gets your taste in memes mostly wrong. TikTok can adapt your feed in less than 10 minutes. Instagram and Facebook monitor every reaction, scroll, and pause—updating your profile within a few hours. Want to see the world like a sheep? Just click the same thing twice.

Algorithms aren’t just spying; they’re comparing you—literally—to millions of others, nudging you into online behaviors and communities you never dreamed of.

Escape the Bubble—or don’t

Personalization sounds wonderful at first: fewer LinkedIn humblebrags and fewer tofu salad posts (which, by the way, polls suggest are among the most muted by social media users in the US) The catch: these platforms build comfy, invisible cages around us, sealing us in with people and opinions just like ours. “You like shoes? Fantastic! Here’s 14,000 more shoes, and opinions just as snug.” That safety blanket quickly becomes an echo chamber, and it’s measurable.

Why is it so hard to break free? It’s simple: comfort. We’re tribal animals. The more our feeds reinforce our tastes and beliefs, the cozier we feel—even as the walls close in. Platforms double down on what earns clicks and keeps us online longer. Algorithms reward you for “staying in your lane”. It’s the world’s comfiest traffic jam.

When debate turns into a pillow fight

What happens inside these cozy cocoons, where critical thinking slips quietly out the side door. “Intellectual friction” is the jostling of mixed, even clashing ideas—the thing that makes real debate spicy and, occasionally, personal growth possible. But as your online experience gets sanded down until no offending sliver is left behind, the biggest arguments are about whether a shrimp emoji can be used as a verb.

You’ll see fewer opposing viewpoints, which feels either like existential boredom (for the average scroller) or a turbo-charged group therapy session (if your bubble is one of the zealots— right or left). Right-wing extremist groups online tend to radicalize faster, push further into conspiracy land, and—let’s be honest—throw scarier parties. The hard left has its own echo chambers and passionate outliers, but as a rule they’re less violence-prone, more into manifestos, collective action, and often endless “self-criticism circles” (think, a debate club where the only topic is why you’re wrong). Either way, the algorithm is delighted: for some it breeds loneliness, for others, adrenaline and a matching club jacket.

Who picked all these sides anyway?

Left, right, center—these used to be solid squares on the chessboard of debate in any culture. The board’s gone. The pieces move wherever the latest viral clip pushes them. Platforms now declare their leanings, even in the wording of their ‘Terms of Service’.

Truth Social, Parler, and Gab? Proudly right-wing, with algorithmic cheerleaders for outrage, bigotry, and endless “patriot” soapboxing. It’s a parade where the only confetti allowed is red, white, and blue—and don’t ask about the rainbow streamers.

Of course, left-leaning spots pop up too: Bluesky is the indie coffee shop where progressive voices host poetry night; Mastodon is the digital commune where every group sets its own rules; Reddit is that chaotic university common room—one minute an earnest teach-in, the next a brawl over memes, with every flavour of politics shouting over the din. But here’s the kicker: every major platform, wherever it started, can become an echo chamber or swing politically faster than you can say ‘x’.

X (or Twitter, for the stubborn among us) shifted immediately to the right under its new owner—it’s algorithmic, policy, and culture change all rolled into one. Musk promised to make Twitter a home for “healthy debate” on every idea under the sun—even as he’s cozied up to right-wing movements, overhauled platform rules to favor his new political tribe, and turned Twitter/X into the world’s hottest open mic for fascist crusaders.

Gaza and the Newsroom Tightrope

Mainstream news outlets aren’t immune from algorithmic pressures—they have to play by the platform rules or risk their work getting lost in the noise. In effect, social media’s algorithms are now part of the “editorial staff,” deciding what’s seen and what’s sidelined—no matter how carefully the journalists themselves weigh their words.

If politics online is a painting, Gaza has become the canvas no outlet can ignore. The Guardian plays earnest friend at the table—quick to spotlight injustice, but just cautious enough to avoid risking its next round of reader pledges or a slap from the algorithms that decide who even sees the story. The closer you get to words like “genocide,” the more you see editors waltzing around them like there’s a trapdoor built by pageview metrics and social-media reach. It’s empathy, right up to the moment a headline might spook the bots or the donors.

The BBC now writes its headlines with one eye twitching at the algorithm. Say the wrong word and you risk being tossed into the digital penalty box, shadow banned or watched by the platforms’ invisible bouncers. So the language gets smoothed out and lawyered up, flooding the coverage with “alleged” and “reportedly,” even when the evidence is overwhelming. And no one wants a summons to Westminster or a budget review before lunch. Critics inside and outside the Beeb wonder: “If you won’t call this massacre a genocide, what apocalypse are you saving that word for?”

Tightrope, no net

Al Jazeera’s newsroom skips the tiptoe—they’ll call a massacre a “genocide” if witnesses and NGOs do, no matter how squeamish it makes officials or social media overlords. The trouble is, algorithms have gotten very good at deciding whose outrage makes it past the velvet rope. Platforms have been caught more than once quietly shadow-banning or demoting Al Jazeera’s coverage, especially on Gaza—sometimes your feed serves the carnage, sometimes it swaps in a cat doing parkour.

For those of us who can confirm stories through contacts on the ground, that’s gold. But for almost everyone else, if you don’t see it, that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen—it might just mean the algorithm decided you needed kittens instead of war.

You start out just browsing, no axe to grind,
But algorithms are busy, rewiring your mind;
Discussion seems strange,
Views no longer range—
Trillionaires smile as free thought’s resigned.

When “Free Speech” means “Cashing In”

Rage, not reason, pays the bills. Platforms chase engagement, and right-wing outrage is algorithmic gold—so much so that even as big sites once talked tough about banning extremists and conspiracy cheerleaders, many have quietly rolled out the welcome mat again. Sidelined groups flood to alternative networks, but now they’re just as likely to reappear, blue-check in hand, back on X or Facebook—as long as the outrage keeps the ad dollars flowing. In the outrage economy, the only real rule is whoever gets clicks, gets paid.

Why the left can’t catch a break (or a big cheque)

Trying to build a left-wing platform online is like coaxing a dozen cats into group therapy—everyone has claws, and half of them swim in opposite directions. Moderation is tough without strict rules. Money dries up fast when you refuse ads or data mining. And unlike right-wing spaces, the left’s internal squabbles are legendary. According to a recent tech industry analysis, right-wing and centrist platforms receive up to five times more venture and donor funding than anti-capitalist projects—a multi-billion-dollar gap that’s not going away soon.

The world isn’t as angry as your feed

Life online feels like combat, but offline? Most people are kinder, moderate, and actually enjoy debate— “intellectual friction,” also known as real conversation. Western societies still value civility and compromise, even if online, rudeness and drama generate the most clicks—thanks, algorithms.

If escaping algorithmic sleepwalking matters, try this:

Pause before snapping back—who’s winning if you get mad?
Mix up your sources; when every story sounds the same, walk away.
Debate someone offline—no phones, just brains.

You don’t need tech skills. Curiosity and pushback are all it takes. You never chose these invisible boundaries, but staying curious is political self-defense.

Control online is raw muscle—one code tweak, new CEO, and your feed flips overnight. Governments use the same tools to track dissent now. Stay tuned for Part II, where the algorithm stops shuffling memes and starts moving people and politics.