IT IS hardly surprising that netizens eagerly anticipate the next item of digital consumption. The compulsion to remain attuned to the flow of events has become an almost instinctive habit. Newsfeeds refresh by the second, notifications pulse incessantly, and attention is pulled from one fleeting trend to the next. In this digitally mediated reality, filtered images, curated posts and algorithm-driven content have replaced the texture of ordinary experience. Staying informed is no longer a matter of awareness alone 鈥� it has become a social performance, a way to remain visible and relevant within a competitive digital ecosystem.
Natural spaces, too, are increasingly caught in this circuitry of visibility. As winter arrives, mustard fields emerge as seasonal spectacles, not for their agricultural value, but as ideal backdrops for social media content. Visitors, often from urban areas, descend in droves, driven by the desire to capture aesthetic moments among the blooms. The fields become saturated not with pollinators, but with selfie seekers and content creators. The yellow glow of the flowers, the misty mornings and golden sunsets are all transformed into visual commodities 鈥� editable, postable, and primed for digital circulation.
Yet, the enchantment of these landscapes often masks their disruption. Farmers 鈥� whose lives depend on these crops 鈥� find themselves contending with visitors who disturb the orderly growth of plants in pursuit of ideal camera angles. Paths are trampled, crops damaged, and little regard is shown for the labour that sustains the land. For cultivators, the flowers are not symbols of seasonal wonder; they are livelihood. The romanticism projected onto the fields has little resonance for those who must bear the consequences of this digital tourism. The burden of intrusion, littering and disturbance rests heavily on them, yet there is little recourse available.
The commodification of nature extends beyond mustard fields. Sunflower farms have become another hotspot, increasingly managed as ticketed spaces to capitalise on the influx of visitors. Here too, the experience is curated with digital audiences in mind. Natural beauty is packaged, sold and consumed as a visual product. What was once a spontaneous relationship with environment has become a transaction 鈥� a rented moment in a landscape that exists to be seen, not understood.
Such trends reflect a broader pattern. Screen-based consumption has become entwined with everyday existence. From early morning scrolling to late-night swiping, the digital interface shapes how people navigate time, attention and even physical space. Smartphones accompany meals, dominate conversations, and encroach upon private moments. The impact on well-being is evident 鈥� extended exposure to screens, reduced movement, sleep disturbances and other health issues have become common complaints. Still, the habit continues unabated. The pull of updates, stories, comments and reactions is difficult to resist.
The culture of virality reinforces this loop. Catchy songs, humorous dialogues and visually striking content circulate rapidly, designed to trigger engagement. Recent examples include a watermelon vendor whose theatrical sales pitch catapulted him into digital fame. While his lines entertained viewers, the unintended result was a crowd of content seekers who disrupted his ability to sell. Such incidents highlight the precarious nature of digital fame 鈥� it offers visibility but not necessarily benefit, and often leaves the subject overwhelmed or displaced.
Platforms shape not only consumption but also how realities are produced and framed. From stories of migration to glimpses of religious rituals, from snow-covered terrain to historical discoveries, social media pages offer curated slices of global and local life. These fragments, while informative, can often reduce complex experiences into consumable visuals. The distinction between witnessing and watching blurs, as moments are flattened into content for rapid circulation.
This is the paradox of contemporary digital culture 鈥� while it expands access and amplifies voices, it also encourages a form of shallow spectatorship. The urge to document, post and share often eclipses the depth of engagement. As natural spaces, everyday routines, and social events become props in a continual performance, the question remains whether we are shaping our digital environments, or being reshaped by them in return.
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Mohammad Mahfuzul Islam is an anthropologist and teacher in the Independent University, Bangladesh.
