It’s been on my mind lately that doomscrolling might be the modern equivalent of smoking.
Growing up in the 1960s and ’70s, cigarettes were everywhere. My parents smoked, people smoked on television, and tobacco companies advertised during sport like it was the most normal thing in the world. Lighting up was seen as calming, something to do with your hands, even—strangely—something that looked cool. I never quite understood the appeal, but it was impossible to ignore. It was part of the fabric of everyday life.
I remember when a close friend of mine, at just sixteen, decided to take up smoking. It changed things. He drifted away from our group of non-smoking mates, and looking back now, I sometimes wonder if I should have tried harder to talk him out of it. The truth is, I probably couldn’t have changed his mind. Smoking had a powerful pull back then—social, cultural, even aspirational.
Recently, that same friend passed away from a smoking-related illness. It’s one of those moments that quietly forces you to reflect on how something once so widely accepted can carry such a heavy cost.
Today, smoking is viewed very differently. The risks are well understood, public attitudes have shifted, and regulations have pushed it out of many shared spaces. What was once normal is now, rightly, seen as harmful.
But it makes me wonder—have we simply replaced one habit with another?
Idle hands, once occupied by cigarettes, are now filled with smartphones. And instead of taking a drag, we scroll. Endlessly.
Doomscrolling—this compulsive habit of consuming negative news and social media—has crept into our lives so subtly that we barely question it. Like smoking once was, it’s everywhere. It fills quiet moments, distracts us when we’re bored, and gives the illusion of staying informed or connected.
But at what cost?
Physically, we’re starting to see the effects. “Tech neck” is becoming common, and younger generations are developing repetitive strain issues in their hands and thumbs from constant scrolling. These may sound minor, but they’re signals of a deeper shift in how we use our bodies.
More concerning, though, is the impact on mental health.
Constant exposure to bad news, comparison, outrage, and conflict chips away at our sense of wellbeing. It can heighten anxiety, distort our view of the world, and quietly erode self-esteem. Just as smokers once believed cigarettes helped them relax, many people now turn to their phones for comfort—only to come away feeling worse.
And like smoking in its heyday, doomscrolling is socially reinforced. Everyone is doing it. It’s normal. Expected, even.
That’s what makes it hard to challenge.
I’m not suggesting that scrolling your phone is the same as smoking a pack of cigarettes a day. But the pattern feels familiar: a widely accepted habit, woven into daily life, offering short-term relief while potentially causing long-term harm.
History has a way of repeating itself—just in different forms.
The difference now is that we’re still early enough to question it.
Maybe the answer isn’t to eliminate technology altogether, just as the solution to smoking wasn’t to eliminate stress or socialising. But awareness matters. Boundaries matter. Choosing when to engage—and when to put the phone down—might be one of the most important small decisions we make each day.
Because if doomscrolling really is the new smoking, it’s worth asking ourselves a simple question:
Do we want to wait decades to fully understand the damage—or start making changes now?
