In Praise of Boredom
When was the last time you were bored? Like, actually bored. No music, no TV on in the background, no doom scrolling, no text conversations, nothing. And the shower doesn’t count – although I do know someone who takes their phone into the shower and holds it outside the water, so I guess for some people it does.
We have become immune to boredom. With a constant, endless stream of entertainment at our fingertips, allowing us to fill every waking hour (and sleeping hour if you’re like me and listen to a podcast), then why be bored?
Well, according to psychologists James Danckert and John D Eastwood, there are actually many good reasons. In their co-authored book Out of My Skull: The Psychology of Boredom, they suggest that boredom can be a tool with which we can achieve a more fulfilling and meaningful life. By seeing boredom as a signal, and responding to it in a constructive way (ie. not reaching for the closest and most convenient fix), we ignite our imagination and strengthen our ability to solve problems.
But we alone cannot be blamed for becoming averse to boredom; higher powers are at play.
In recent years, there has been much discussion around the concept of an attention economy. Although initially conceived by psychologist Herbert A. Simon in the early 1970s, it has taken on even greater meaning in the age of smartphones, social media, and streaming. The theory suggests that, in an information-rich world, our attention has become a valuable resource that can be bought and sold. While content can be created in abundance, our attention is limited and scarce (because we can only focus on a few things at once), making businesses compete to capture it.
In an article for The Atlantic, Chris Hayes compares “the rearrangement of social and economic conditions around the pursuit of attention” to “the creation of wage labour”. He says that “Attention now exists as a commodity in the same way labour did in the early years of industrial capitalism.” The difference, he argues, is that “to extract labour from a person, you need to compensate them through wages, coerce them, or use violence… But the extraction of our attention happens in a different way… If someone puts a gun to your head and tells you to dig a ditch, you know you are being coerced. If someone fires a gun in the air, your attention will instantly shift to the sound even before you can fully grasp what’s happening.” To put this into context, the same thing happens when we get a notification on our phone.
“This feature of our attention,” he concludes, “– that it can be taken from us at a purely sensory level, before our conscious will even gets to weigh in – makes it a strange and powerful force.” And it is against this strange and powerful force that boredom dwindles. If our attention can be pulled in any direction out of our control, or consumed for insurmountable amounts of time despite our best efforts to pull away, we are placed in a toxic situation, and one that is difficult to escape.
To make matters worse, very often, the entertainment we are receiving leaves us wanting more. It doesn't actually scratch the itch of boredom because it is not designed to – that would be bad business. By keeping us in this unsatisfying loop of over-stimulation, the entertainment industry makes more money.
You might think of this content like fast food, delivering instant gratification that provides inadequate replenishment, leading you to crave more. And, like fast food, this content can be churned out quickly. It is also highly reactionary, fast-moving and ever-changing. As businesses chase our attention, our attention chases information, creating an ever-quickening downward spiral that has led to the rise in short-form videos and the increased speed of TV shows. The more we get used to this high-speed content, the less tolerant we become to anything less, basically anything that does not satiate our boredom in a 2-minute video.
Danckert and Eastwood also describe how choice (the venerated cornerstone of capitalism) can exacerbate boredom. I frequently find myself a victim of this, spending more time scrolling through Netflix than watching a programme – or worse, giving up and turning to my phone. And often, when I do settle on something to watch, the feeling that there could have been something better tickles at the back of my mind, initiating a sense of boredom that might not otherwise exist.
This is the “paradox of choice”, say Danckert and Eastwood: the more options we have, the less satisfied we are with our decisions. But choice doesn’t have to be a negative thing. Choice can be liberating, it just depends on how we approach it. If we are scared of being bored and seek instant gratification over delayed, then choice can indeed lead to perpetual dissatisfaction. However, if we see choice as a way of getting closer to what we truly desire, then choice can empower us to become more ourselves.
The problem is that choice is tied to convenience – the more choice we have, the less effort we need to exert to find what we are looking for. And when it comes to finding activities to combat boredom, we are not short of options: text a mate, swipe on Hinge, order food, scroll through TikTok, stalk on Instagram, read the news – you get the point. But in reaching for these easily accessible distractions, what are we missing out on?
In boredom, without an overabundance of choice, we are pushed harder to find entertainment. Boredom is a muscle we must put to work. Boredom pushes us forward, keeps us looking for a way to engage ourselves. Boredom forces us to think for ourselves. Without boredom, our brains become saturated by the thoughts of others, squashed down and held back by that which has already been said. As Danckert and Eastwood write, when we are “constantly carried along by a fast-moving stream, we can forget how to swim for ourselves”.
Where do brands lie in all this?
Naturally, brands have become attuned to the demands of the attention economy, desperately churning out content that will turn heads quickly, but ultimately for a short amount of time. In trying to keep up with the ever-evolving world of TikTok trends and niche Instagram subcultures, brands end up looking like the embarrassing uncle at the BBQ who hasn’t quite learnt to grow up.
This year, fast food chain Wendy’s fell into hot water when they tweeted “Can we send her back” in response to Katy Perry returning home from space on the Blue Origin flight. This colloquial use of social media by brands to seem more “relatable” has become a common (and somewhat lazy) marketing strategy over the past few years, with the likes of Ryanair responding to users on TikTok and M&S launching a #FreeCuthbert campaign.
These interjections into the chaotic noise of the internet are heard for a second, before being brushed along by the newest viral meme or celebrity beef on the block. If you’re chasing to keep up with a world that is inherently fast-paced, then, by nature of the game, you're going to have to move on pretty quickly.
Content that makes a lasting impression takes time to make and requires a higher level of interpretation to consume. Brands shouldn’t aim to enter a world that quenches boredom in unimaginative ways, but push to create something that engages us in productive ways and takes us out of this never-ending cycle of empty, unfulfilling boredom fillers.