Published in New Humanist, Summer 2025 issue, p56-58.
A moment of silence for my overstimulated brain
My noise cancelling headphones are one of my favourite things that I own. I wear them constantly to listen to podcasts when I’m squeezed in next to strangers on the bus, they enable me to hear my YouTube videos when I’m cooking, and when I need a little boost to go get my steps in, I grab them so I can listen to an audiobook. With the notable exception of the nutters who think it’s okay to scroll shortform videos out loud in public, modern life is increasingly spent in headphones – they represent the option to escape boredom by dipping into the world of entertainment on the devices in our pockets.
But if I spend every moment outside or work or socialising with something piped in through my ears or eyes – words, music, video, images – what am I doing to my brain?
This question stood out to me when one day, I forgot my headphones. It was just a little errand, 20 minutes or so, but the experience of what they call rawdogging life – being out there with no buffer – was so jarring that I had to find a bench and sit down for a moment. I was suddenly extremely aware that my brain was receiving no input – I was just sitting there. The thought of having to do the boring errand without entertainment felt frustrating, and I was itching to use this time to continue my audiobook. But when was the last time I’d been bored?
For a long time, I realised, the only time I was truly free of some kind of input was when I was sleeping, and maybe showering. Modern life means you barely have to go to the toilet without entertainment – not a moment wasted! As I went about my day, the thought stayed with me. I pictured my brain as the spinning beachball of doom, like an old computer straining under too many commands, trying to catch up.
Because as it turns out, boredom has a very specific function. You don’t have to do nothing for very long before your brain realises it’s an opportunity – let’s daydream, mull over what happened yesterday, ponder about the future! Scientists call this the Default Mode Network, which is the brain state that activates when we’re awake but not focused on anything. As we idle, our minds drift and make unexpected connections – a little boredom may actually be a key ingredient in creativity.
Intrigued, I decided to see what would happen if I spent a little less time listening to podcasters debunking moral panics while folding laundry, and a bit more time in my Default Mode Network. That weekend I went for a long walk in the park, my headphones in my bag like a security blanket. As I made an effort to wear my headphones less in the months that followed, I felt my brain resisting, arguing for some light entertainment. But soon, something remarkable happened: I realised I was feeling less tense, my mood lifted, and I was less irritated by interruptions. I’m pretty sure my memory improved too, and I became convinced this was because my brain had more time to process, so it could put down memories and make connections. My brain was no longer being constantly bombarded with stimuli during my every waking moment, I figured, so it was finally able to rest.
But is that actually true? To find out, I called Matti Vuorre, an assistant professor at the School of Social and Behavioral Sciences at Tilburg University in the Netherlands. Vuorre studies human nature in the context of how we use digital technologies, and how it impacts our wellbeing and cognitive functioning. Asked why it can be so difficult to just let our phones be, Vuorre says it’s early days for research in this field: “Many would agree with the sentiment that smartphones or social media are negatively affecting their abilities to attend to things. But the studies are much less conclusive.” The notion of an attention span is very difficult to pinpoint with any scientific vigour, adds Vuorre. “But humans have a natural tendency towards curiosity. We need to learn in a similar vein as how we have to eat. So maybe it’s the case that once we have the so-called information superhighway in our pockets, resisting may be difficult.” That’s good news, I guess – I’m not jonesing for entertainment because I lack discipline, but because information and novelty is simply more interesting than silence.
But then Vuorre drops a clanger: “The brain as a unit of analysis in these questions is actually the wrong thing to focus on.” He explains that we can scan the resting brain in an MRI machine and pick up all sorts of readings, but that doesn’t really tell us anything about human physiology after we’ve been conditioned to using our phones 24/7. “It’s too complicated to quantify at the neural level. So when you say something is doing something to my brain, it’s a bit of a tautology,” says Vuorre. “You might as well say it’s doing something to me.”
So much for my hopes for a neat answer to what happens to a brain that’s never idle. But maybe it’s a helpful reframing: it’s not that my brain is overstimulated, it’s that I myself simply feel better when I take a walk without headphones – and maybe that’s reason enough?
In any case, Vuorre says that studying a brain that’s bombarded with stimuli is “not a common experimental setup”, although “the military might have done something in that space”. I’m reminded of the stories of music being used to “break” detainees in Guantanamo Bay, which is an extreme example of sensory overload if there ever was one. But even though it’s definitely a bridge too far to compare actual torture to the brain rot that sets in after too much infinite scroll, the research into the role of music in prison settings does provide a window into what happens when the brain is bombarded with stimuli. According to research from New York University, loud, repeated loud music stops the psychological process of orientation. The brain is constantly working on detecting patterns and making order out of chaos, and 24 hours of Eminem on loop prevents the brain from organising itself – soon, it breaks down your ability to make sense of the world.
Every generation freaks out about new media. Once we were extremely worried about video games, and what would happen to kids who watched a lot of TV. The initial proliferation of newspapers was maligned for stopping people from talking to each other, and in the 1800s, novels were considered harmful for young women – too many books could inflame passions, spread radical ideas, and make the ladies uppity. By this argument, smartphones are just the newest version of this panic – at least Vuorre seems to think so: “A hundred years from now, some other version of you and me will be having this exact same discussion about some technology that we can’t yet imagine,” he says. “This [conversation] will keep happening.”
But I can’t help but feel that smartphones are actually different. They don’t provide anything truly new, but they’re the first media that we can access anywhere at any time. To have the same experience during my 90s childhood I would have to carry a Discman, CDs and audiobooks, a pocket radio, a portable TV, newspapers, comic books and arts books, a calendar and alarm clock, a set of stationary a walkie talkie, and I still wouldn’t have half the functions of my current smartphone. All of these things existed in the 90s, but because they weren’t in my pocket, there wasn’t the same urge to make use of every moment for productivity and entertainment.
Whenever I look into getting a dumbphone to free me from temptation, I’m distracted by a desire to keep all manner of apps like the weather, banking, maps, and my meditation timer. So I still have my smartphone and my beloved headphones, but I keep a steely grip on the notifications. Most importantly, I keep my phone out of sight when I want to give my brain a chance to chill – research from the University of Texas at Austin has found that simply seeing your phone can be distracting, even if you don’t pick it up.
This summer I’ve been walking the Capital Ring around London, and I’ve been deliberately keeping my headphones in my bag until I’m back on the train. It’s just me on those walks, and hours of placing one foot in front of another. I have to say, it’s been some of the best time I’ve spent with my brain, or should I say, with myself.
Jessica Furseth 