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How Internet Algorithms Are Designed to Trap Us

November 07, 2024 | 3 min read

In many of our favorite stories, the hero has a mentor or a guide. It’s part of the “hero’s journey.”

You may not feel like a hero when you’re sitting on the couch scrolling on your phone, but did you know, even then, you have a guide?

It's an invisible one, and it's called "the algorithm."

Meet the Algorithm

An algorithm is a set of rules or a process that your favorite apps follow in order to decide what the app does — most importantly, what content it shows to you.

The algorithm selects what you are exposed to, what pieces of news, what photos, videos, what other types of content are served to your eyeballs. The algorithm decides what you see during your internet journey.

In actuality, there’s more than one algorithm. Google has one, Facebook has a different one, and on and on. But all of them have the same goal: to select content you want to see.

At first, this seems helpful. Considering how much information is out here, it's good to have something that parses and selects to make your journey easier. And the more the algorithm guides you, the more data it collects about you, and the better it comes to know you. That’s great, right?

It really seems that the algorithm wants the best for us. And for free?

Not so fast.

The purpose of serving content that we want to see is not to create an enjoyable experience for us (otherwise, we wouldn’t see so much content that makes us mad!) but instead to enable monetization.

The purpose of serving content that we want to see is not to create an enjoyable experience for us ... but instead to enable monetization.

Follow the Money

Have you ever wondered why social media platforms like Meta (Facebook and Instagram), Reddit, and X are free to use, even though you get valuable content from them?

Social platforms charge businesses to run targeted ads to its users, and because of all the information the algorithm has on you, advertisers can target the people who will really be interested in their services and maximize their ROI (return on investment).

The more targeted content they give us, the longer we stay there, and the longer we stay, the more ads we are exposed to.

That means more money for Facebook.

Sure, we don't pay for this content with money, but we do pay with our attention. And attention is a scarce resource these days.

Sure, we don't pay for this content with money, but we do pay with our attention. And attention is a scarce resource these days.

Your Most Valuable Resource

This idea of attention as a scarce resource is the core of the concept of the “Attention Economy,” as Herbert Simon first named it in 1971.

Before that, information was the scarce resource. You couldn’t just google any information you needed.

But today, the amount of information is so huge that what counts instead is the attention needed to select and consume it.

Simon understood that this wealth of information would create “a need to allocate [our] attention efficiently among the overabundance of information sources that might consume it."

The paradox is that the more information we have, the less we are able to pay attention. This trade-off is a big challenge for advertisers but also for our mental health and sense of personal fulfillment.

This digital economic shift must be considered when navigating the web and assessing our digital habits.

Because, unlike in the best stories, this time, the guide is not here to help the hero succeed. No, this type of guide is actually the villain.

[BACK TO “WHY FOCUS IS DYING”]

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The winning short story in the 2026 Freewrite 500 is "Deathbed Victory" by Rocky Halpern.

I wish my mother could be a little less enthusiastic about losing weight from chemotherapy. Her sharp wrists and angular neck are trophies others remark upon. They look past her hair and eyebrows that are like hay carried away by a thunderstorm and ask if she’s doing keto or mediterranean. 

The world is mesmerized by shrinking things. Mini candy bars, happy meal toys, tiny dogs that fit inside a purse, dollhouses, adults who weigh as much as children. 

My mother wants me to go on Ozempic. I sit next to her hospital bed, and she wraps her wisp of a hand around my thick, pulsing wrist. She asks me to dream of wearing matching bikinis on the shores of a tropical beach. She wants me to share in her religion, recite the sacred text: Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. 

But chemo has rubbed her tastebuds down to a dull throb, so what does she know about it anyway? 

She dozes off as evening begins to creep. The TV mounted to the wall across from the bed plays a muted rerun of Friends, the one where Monica wears a fatsuit. She is half my size, at least. I turn off the TV, let go of my mother’s hand, and head toward the cafeteria. 

I examine limp premade salads, gray tuna fish sandwiches, and an unmanned make-your-own smoothie station. Eating dinner here doesn’t leave me with much of an appetite. Maybe I don’t need weight loss medication after all, I can just skulk the halls and wonder how much time we have left together. 

How much of that time will my mother spend wishing there was less of me? 

How much less of her can there be before she disappears? 

A nurse is checking her vitals when I return to the room. My mother looks at me, laughs softly, and asks the nurse, Can you believe she used to fit inside of me? 

I think of how we must have been, her warm body encasing mine like a bacon-wrapped date. I wonder if she ate hot fudge sundaes when she was pregnant with me. I wonder if there is a single moment of her life where she didn’t feel terrified of her body. 

My mother is a ghost and it’s the proudest she’s ever been, her deathbed victory lap. Somewhere, Jenny Craig sheds a tear and whispers into the ether, It’s not just about losing weight; it's about gaining life.