In the 18th century, gin swept through the working-class neighborhoods of London, offering brief euphoria and long-term devastation. In the 19th century, opium dulled the pain of colonialism and industrial collapse. The 20th century brought methamphetamine and its promise of energy and escape, followed by fentanyl—cheap, potent, and deadly.
Now, in the 21st century, we face a new form of mass addiction: not chemical but digital. The most addictive substances of our time are not smoked, snorted, or injected—they are streamed, swiped, and scrolled.
The internet, once hailed as a revolution in knowledge and communication, has been weaponized into an empire of distraction and dependency. Social media, pornography, and online gambling—backed by surveillance capitalism and unchecked corporate power—are engineered for compulsive use. And like the addictive epidemics of the past, they are eroding individual agency, family life, and the very foundations of civic society.
The Gin Craze and the Algorithmic Binge
In 18th-century Britain, the Gin Craze turned city streets into open-air taverns. Cheap, potent alcohol flooded the market, leading to widespread addiction, crime, and social decay. The state profited from taxes while the poor drowned in despair.
Today’s equivalent is the infinite scroll. Social media platforms like TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook—like gin—are engineered to be consumed endlessly. The user is reduced to a set of engagement metrics. Like the gin drinker numbing pain, the social media user seeks validation, escape, or identity in a flood of curated images and outrage. Depression, anxiety, and loneliness have exploded, especially among teens and young adults. Suicides, particularly among girls, have surged in tandem with social media usage.
Opium Dens and the Porn Empire
The opium den offered oblivion. It soothed pain but eroded will. Victorian elites warned of its moral decay while quietly indulging themselves.
Today, online pornography is the new opium—widely available, hyper-stimulating, and often degrading. Once confined to private spaces, it is now accessible to children, monetized by multi-billion-dollar platforms, and normalized by mainstream culture. The effects—especially on young people—include desensitization, unrealistic expectations, isolation, and difficulty forming real-life relationships.
Research has shown that excessive porn consumption alters brain chemistry similarly to addictive drugs. It hijacks the reward system, rewires sexual expectations, and in many cases, contributes to erectile dysfunction, compulsive behavior, and emotional detachment.
Meth, Fentanyl, and the Speed of the Feed
Meth promised productivity; fentanyl promises relief. Both deliver destruction.
Digital addiction today mimics the frenetic highs of meth and the numbing power of fentanyl. The constant rush of notifications, likes, and headlines overstimulates the brain and crushes attention spans. Apps and games are engineered like slot machines, delivering intermittent reinforcement that keeps users hooked. The average smartphone user touches their phone over 2,500 times a day.
University students struggle to read long texts or concentrate for extended periods. Professors battle declining classroom attention and rising rates of anxiety and burnout. Like meth, the digital feed gives the illusion of efficiency while grinding the mind into dust.
Online Gambling: Casino in Your Pocket
The rise of online sports betting and casino apps has brought Vegas to every dorm room and bedroom. Targeted ads on Instagram and YouTube lure young people into betting with "free" money. Many students—especially young men—develop compulsive behaviors, losing thousands before they graduate. Some turn to credit cards, payday loans, or family bailouts.
States, like governments in the gin and opium eras, have embraced online gambling for its tax revenues. Universities, meanwhile, remain largely silent—even as students destroy their finances and futures through legalized digital addiction.
Higher Education: From Ivory Tower to Digital Trap
Colleges were once sanctuaries of thought and reflection. Today, they are nodes in the digital economy—where learning management systems monitor clicks, and students are nudged toward screens at every turn. Social interaction is filtered through group chats and Reddit threads. Pornography, gambling, and endless scrolling are a click away on the same device used to write term papers and attend virtual lectures.
Even counseling services are digitized. The solution to tech addiction, students are told, is often more tech—apps that monitor screen time, AI chatbots for mental health, or video therapy that feels detached and impersonal.
The Profiteers and the Pushers
In every addiction crisis, there are profiteers: distillers, opium traders, pharmaceutical companies, and cartels. Today, Big Tech plays the same role. Meta, TikTok, YouTube, Pornhub, DraftKings, FanDuel, and hundreds of smaller apps compete for attention with algorithms that exploit human weakness.
Their business model depends on addiction. They study neuroscience, behavioral psychology, and micro-targeted advertising with military-grade precision. Like the drug lords of the past, they deny responsibility while reaping billions.
And just as the poor suffered most in the gin and opioid crises, it is the working class, the unemployed, the chronically ill, and the disconnected who fall hardest into the digital pit.
The Need for Radical Intervention
Digital addiction is not a moral failing—it’s a public health emergency. Like past addiction epidemics, the solution requires:
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Public awareness campaigns
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Stricter age and content regulation
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Taxation on digital vice industries
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Digital literacy education at all levels
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Offline spaces and activities that foster real connection and attention
Higher education must lead. Not by digitizing every service, but by teaching students to reclaim their minds, their time, and their agency. Faculty must model mindful engagement and challenge the corporatization of the university by tech companies. Administrators must reconsider their reliance on LMS systems, data harvesting, and digital surveillance.
Will We Wake Up in Time?
In the past, addiction crises forced society to reflect on what was lost: family cohesion, civic virtue, mental clarity, and freedom itself. We stand again at such a crossroads. The digital drug is in every hand, and the overdose is slow—but devastating.
Like gin, opium, meth, and fentanyl, the internet addiction crisis is about more than chemicals—it’s about despair, disconnection, and exploitation. And like those earlier epidemics, it is not an individual failing, but a systemic one. The good news? As with past crises, awareness is the first step toward recovery. The question is: Will we act before another generation is lost?
The Higher Education Inquirer continues to investigate the intersection of capitalism, addiction, and the commodification of human attention. Reach out if you have a story to share.
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