I don't know why I spend so much time on the Internet. It usually just makes me cross. But I persist, and then write shouty blog posts about things I could have avoided by just reading a book instead. But here I am again, having just watched a clip on how we define ourselves through social tags like our jobs, our religion and our hobbies. The very earnest woman, with a smile plastered onto her slightly plastic, Botoxed face, claimed that if these descriptors disappeared, we would finally get to our essence.

Ah yes, essence. That thing that defines what we really are. But isn't your essence built from your interests and hobbies? Don't we derive meaning and value from our careers? Don't our interests grow out of our essence instead of masking it?

But still, if you gaze meaningfully and look eager and earnest while you talk, people will automatically applaud your wisdom. They won't question it. That would require, you know, thought. Analysis. Engagement with ideas. Oh, the horror!

Our essence may not be shaped through our jobs, religion and hobbies, but these are signs of who we are. Essence is more than some pure nugget buried deep within us. It’s something that’s continually made and remade through our actions and choices, and the way in which we engage with the world. But when essence is portrayed online it often feels staged. It’s more important to look like you mean it than even to explore your own ideas in any depth.

Bite sized snippets of advice seem to contain a gravitas that can't be reached with solid arguments. But mince it into a McNugget of information, and the most nonsensical statements suddenly seem profound. Particularly if you play Meaningful Music entitled Epiphany in C Minor in the background.

And you know it's true because you saw it on the Internet. (Imagine if someone like me could randomly decide to start a page and post there!) And content is meant to sell. It’s the commodification of wisdom. The problem is that genuine learning is slow, repetitive and uncomfortable. Internet wisdom claims to be quick and easy, but just scratching the surface reveals the thin veneer of understanding. Wisdom has become a brand and insight is performative. We believe what we see because the person speaking looks intense and it’s a high-quality video with good sound and lighting. Whether or not the words make any sense is entirely incidental and we’re not required to think; we are only asked to agree.

But we prefer these prechewed titbits because they require nothing of us. They give us the illusion of learning, so we feel like something has been achieved. We agree because we've only engaged with the idea for a fraction of a second until we scroll to the next post and then we go through the entire process again. It’s the dopamine economy where we are given microbursts of satisfaction through scrolling.

When we nod at these trite platitudes, we’re really nodding at our own reflection. It’s the echo chamber effect where we are comforted rather than challenged.

We prefer this to real learning because it is passive, and by nature, we like ease. And laziness is not always a bad thing. It can inspire efficiency and progress. But here's the thing: when we replace intellectualism with passive acceptance, there can only be regression. We lose the ability to wrestle with our own ideas and we become easy to manipulate as soon as critical thinking takes a back seat to mindless agreement.

This is the paradox of access to information. We’ve never been able to access so much, but we choose to skim the surface. We’ve created a platform where there is endless potential for engagement, but it has become utterly overwhelming. It is easier to engage with curated thought bites than it is to develop ideas of our own. It’s like going to a buffet and trying to taste all the dishes on offer by licking the pictures on the menu!

But passive consumption doesn’t just make us lazy. It makes us vulnerable. We become easy to manipulate socially, politically and economically. These pre-chewed ideas crowd out anything remotely profound and give us the idea that we’ve done the work. People aim for acceptance, self-soothing and inward focus rather than questioning structures or systems.

And this is why essence is exactly the type of content that garners engagement. We crave connection and understanding, but as we scroll endlessly, choosing memes over the endless libraries that past generations struggled to access, we are choosing soothing snack-sized wisdoms that leave little room for nuance.

Essence isn’t found by stripping away our lives, but by engaging with them. If we truly want to know ourselves, we should stop mistaking algorithms for mirrors. Close the tab. Read something difficult. Because if laziness is being engineered, then surely thought is the sign of rebellion.