Lord of the Feeds
How Boredom Creates Rebels (and Why That’s a Good Thing)
Ok, if there is ever an article where I’ll sound my age it is this one. I miss the 80s and early-mid 90s. I miss the American movies like ET, Flight of the Navigator, The Goonies, Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, Short Circuit and Big.
Ok so Stranger Things gave us some of that vibe back, endless summers on bikes where we felt safe, free and happy it didn’t mind if we were being chased by aliens or experiments gone wrong - we had our mates and life was simple.
And the animation. And the animation soundtracks - Thundercats, Dungeons and Dragons, Gummy Bears, Defenders of the Earth, TMNT, Bravestarr, Care Bears - the list goes on.
I was also reading. Lots. The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, The Hobbit and one of my favourite books of all time Lord of the Flies. We could break rules, and have adventures.
I honestly believe that has changed. I don’t think we’re allowed to break rules as much. More and more we’re being asked to fit other people’s agendas and platforms - we’re measured on a scorecard and placed into a segment.
In Lord of the Flies, when the rules vanished and the routines collapsed, what emerged wasn’t order it was rebellion. Chaos wasn’t a flaw in the system. It was the system once boredom took hold. Left without structure, the kids didn’t sit quietly. They created their own. Messy, tribal, dangerous, and ultimately, theirs.
We talk a lot about how overstimulation is breaking attention spans. But the bigger story might be this: boredom is back. In a recent study I asked tweens and teens about their mobile phone usage and the apps they used. And why they used that app more than once. The most common answer, depressingly so. Boredom.
Boredom, has historically spawned creativity.
But this isn’t the first time boredom broke the system. It happened before—in the late 1970s and early 80s. That time, it sounded like punk, in my childhood it was Nirvana and Grunge.
Punk Was a Response, Not a Trend
Punk didn’t start as a music genre. It started as rejection. Of bloated arena rock. Of economic decay. Of systems that promised a future and delivered debt, strikes, and joblessness. In 1981 (my birth year), youth unemployment in the UK hit 12.5%. Schools were overcrowded. Cities were grey and broken. You can still see architecture from this period as you drive through British cities.
The 1980s faced similar issues as today with increasing Government Debt, Inflation, Income Inequality, Unemployment and decreasing productivity.
There were less distractions, so young people stopped waiting.
They made fanzines with glue and photocopiers. Created their own mixtapes. They booked gigs in abandoned spaces. They customised uniforms and turned fashion into protest. Punk didn’t ask for permission. It was DIY before the term existed.
My friends at Ralph are leaning back into this trend with their magazine Ralph.
The boredom created space. The frustration gave it fuel. And the lack of structure gave kids no choice but to build their own system.
The Psychology of Boredom and Creativity
In modern psychology, boredom isn’t seen as a problem, it’s a signal. It tells the brain: what’s happening isn’t stimulating enough. That gap between what is and what could be is where creativity begins.
The Torrance Tests of Creative Thinking, developed in the 1960s, measure how fluently and flexibly people generate ideas. One study found that boredom increases divergent thinking—the kind of thinking required to come up with original ideas. It’s not just about being idle. It’s about being under-challenged in a way that demands response.
You can’t force creativity through endless input. You need friction. Absence. Space. Punk was a creative response to a world that had nothing to offer. And that’s exactly what made it potent.
Expression Happens in the Gaps
If you only look at digital behaviour, you’ll miss the bigger picture.
Yes, teens are still online. But its declining and the most interesting behaviours aren’t always in the metrics, they’re in the margins.
39% of teens say they’ve cut back on social media use, and 36% have reduced smartphone time — showing growing self-regulation.
Slight declines in platform usage among teens: TikTok down from 67% to 63%, Snapchat from 59% to 55%.
Shift to alternative platforms like Tumblr and Pinterest for more community-driven, less algorithmic experiences.
Zines. DIY fashion. Local gigs. Shared folders on Dropbox. Pinterest growing. And Reddit boards for every niche and infinite detail. Minecraft spaces that make no commercial sense but still get made.
These aren’t trends for the sake of nostalgia. They’re signs of a generation choosing control over polish. Small-scale, self-directed creativity, often offline or semi-private. Because not everything needs to be for everyone.
It’s not a rejection of digital life. It’s a recalibration.
A move away from performance and toward purpose.
That’s why teens increasingly expect more from the people and brands they follow. Not just content that entertains, but something that signals values, or stands for something specific. Not to save the world. Just to feel like there’s a point.
In The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell describes how trends often start in small, close-knit groups. He uses the example of Hush Puppies becoming popular again after people in New York’s gay clubs started wearing them. It wasn’t a campaign, it was a signal of identity.
Belonging is often what gives an idea traction. When something is adopted within a trusted group, it gains meaning and visibility. That can be more powerful than exposure alone.
Today, we see similar patterns in youth culture. Creative behaviours—whether in fashion, games, or music, often spread through peer networks, not platforms. Understanding those early clusters can help us spot what’s coming next.
“The tipping point is that magic moment when an idea, trend, or social behavior crosses a threshold, tips, and spreads.”
Malcolm Gladwell
MrBeast does this well, not because he’s particularly virtuous, but because he’s smart. He ties purpose to spectacle. That combination is sticky. Patagonia does it too, but in reverse: purpose first, product second. Both models work, because both are clear.
In a world of noise, clarity is currency.
Brands need to be ahead, or at least quickly relevant
Most brands are still trying to “catch up” with trends. But they’re chasing the wrong thing. You can’t automate rebellion. You have to recognise it early—and create space for it to thrive.
That means:
Leaving space for interpretation, not just delivering messages.
Creating tools, not just content.
Supporting subcultures without flattening them into campaigns.
The mistake is thinking punk was ever about an aesthetic. It wasn’t. It was a survival tactic in a world that stopped listening. And it worked because it wasn’t built to be scalable. It was built to be felt.
Scheduling Still Matters—But Now It's About Tempo
In my last post (Escape from the Algorithm), I argued that human programming, editorial judgment still has a role to play, even on platforms designed for infinite content.
This is the next piece of that puzzle. In a world where boredom is starting to take hold again, the job isn’t just to fill the gaps. It’s to know when not to.
Don’t flood the feed. Set the pace.
Create a weekly rhythm, not daily noise. Release stories with room to breathe. Treat attention like a finite resource, not a constant faucet.
The punk era wasn’t a 24/7 livestream. It was a series of deliberate moments, released on their own terms.
Final Thought: Boredom Builds Culture
In the 80s, kids weren’t taught to innovate. They were left to their own devices and they did. They built scenes, sounds, styles. Not despite the boredom, but because of it.
Today, we’re seeing the same signals. Teens logging off. Choosing slower media. Making things that don’t “perform.”
It’s not a glitch. It’s a warning.
And for anyone who cares about the future of storytelling, culture, or youth engagement it’s also a gift. Because boredom isn’t the enemy. It’s the invitation.