Scrolling Ourselves to Sleep: Why Malaysians Can’t Log Off

Scrolling Ourselves to Sleep: Why Malaysians Can’t Log Off

The blue glow is the last light many of us see before sleep. It’s the first thing we reach for upon waking. In the mamak stall, at the traffic light, during family dinners, our thumbs are in perpetual motion, endlessly scrolling through a digital stream of updates, reels, and tweets. We are a nation perpetually online, and the question is no longer what we are looking at, but why we seem physically incapable of logging off.

On the surface, the reasons are simple. Social media offers a potent escape. It is a digital lepak space, a temporary refuge from the pressures of work, the rising cost of living, and the complexities of daily life. For a few minutes—which often bleed into hours—we can disappear into the curated travels of influencers, the drama of celebrity gossip, or the satisfying simplicity of DIY videos. It’s a cheap, accessible form of entertainment, a digital pacifier for our weary minds.

But the pull runs far deeper than simple distraction. These platforms are expertly engineered to exploit fundamental human needs. The intermittent rewards of a like, a share, or a new notification trigger a dopamine response, creating a feedback loop that mimics a slot machine. We scroll in anticipation of that next small hit of validation. In a society with strong communal ties, this digital validation has become a new metric for social belonging. The fear of missing out (FOMO) is powerful; if you’re not online, you might miss the latest viral news, an inside joke, or a crucial community update.

This is compounded by a specific cultural fabric. For many Malaysians, social media isn’t just a pastime; it’s a primary news source, a marketplace (think Mudah or Facebook Groups), and a vital line to family and friends abroad. Our real-world communities are mirrored and amplified online, making disconnection feel like social suicide. The pressure to stay informed, to stay connected, and to stay relevant is immense. To log off is to risk being left behind, to become yang terkebil-kebil in the fast-moving current of the digital kampung.

Yet, this constant connection comes at a cost. It fragments our attention, steals our sleep, and can ironically fuel loneliness as we substitute deep, real-world interaction for shallow, digital engagement. We compare our behind-the-scenes to everyone else’s highlight reel, often to the detriment of our own mental well-being.

The solution isn’t a mass deletion of accounts—that’s neither practical nor desirable for most. The answer lies in conscious consumption. It’s about setting digital boundaries: no phones at the dinner table, turning off notifications after a certain hour, and asking ourselves, “Is this scroll adding value, or just killing time?” We must learn to use these powerful tools with intention, rather than letting them use us.

We deserve to be more than just users; we deserve to be the authors of our own attention. It’s time to reclaim the quiet moments, to look up from the screen and reconnect with the world right in front of us. The feed will always be there when we get back.