At the dawn of digital, when cell phones were new and culture dominated by cable television, most of my friends and family considered me an ‘early adopter.’ I was usually the first of my crew to engage with any new digital device or service – the Mac, email, the web, search, wifi, even nascent social sites like Friendster, Orkut, and LinkedIn. I was one of the very first people on Instagram, back when it was just a photo site. I was the guy friends and family called when they had a computer problem, and later, when their smart phone acted up. It wasn’t that I was particularly adept at coding or solving IT problems. I was just the guy who everyone knew had spent the most time in the digital world. You know, the Wired guy.
For nearly three decades, I stayed current with all things digital. But about ten years ago, I started pulling back. At first it was more of a vibe – I didn’t like how the digital world was starting to feel. Insistent, needy, demanding. I’d worked for most of my life inside digital spaces, but before the web went world wide, digital was more of a solo act. You, the “user,” were in charge. You decided which applications to pay attention to, which documents to read or write, which sites to visit. That was starting to change, and it didn’t feel right.
I think it started with my first Google Nexus (now Pixel) phone, which I switched to from the iPhone around 2010 or 2011. I was drawn to the Android platform because I felt that Apple – a company I loved for its creation of the Macintosh – was starting to act like a controlling force, as opposed to, as Apple co-founder Steve Jobs once put it, “a bicycle for the mind.”
About this time I started turning off all notifications on my phone. All of them – ringing, new messages, Twitter mentions, IMs, news, apps, the lot. Instead of being constantly hit with the false serotonin of digital fixes, I developed a habit of checking my digital universe proactively – one service at a time, on my schedule, when it suited me. More than a decade later, I find myself wondering: Am I different because of how I’ve used my phone?
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Within my close social circle, I think the answer is no. Nearly everyone I know – both professionally and personally – keeps their phone on silent. It’s been months, if not years, since I’ve been with someone whose phone pings with an Insta or even a text notification. That was once the norm. Something’s changing, and I think it’s a good shift.
This leads me to my first prediction for 2026 – the decline of the feed. The algorithmically induced sugar sludge that has dominated culture for more than ten years is failing, and 2026 will be the year most of us notice that trend. And the company that will be most impacted? Meta and its flagship Instagram app.
Earlier this week Instagram chief Adam Mosseri posted one of his occasional proclamations on the future of his service, this time focused on the impact of AI. AI’s ability to create false reality threatens “creators,” which are the lifeblood of Insta’s current economic model. “Authenticity,” he declared, is the new currency. And Instagram will focus on ensuring that authenticity.
“People stopped sharing personal moments to feeds years ago,” he continues. “That feed is dead.” Well, I agree, but where I differ with Mosseri is whether any algorithmic feed will prosper in coming years. I think the entire model of “push” is abhorrent, and 2026 will be the year society starts to agree. Good riddance, and RIP.
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This is the first in a series of post I’ll be doing on predictions for 2026. When I get to #1, I’ll post a roundup like I usually do.