The Death of Essays
I spend a lot of time on Instagram and TikTok. They are easy to watch, so hours slip by.
I spend far less time reading essays and books. It used to be a thing for me in middle school, but nowadays not so much.
Occasionally, I revisit essays I've loved in the past. "In Praise of Idleness" by Bertrand Russell or "This is Water" by DFW — beautifully written. Yet these days, working through a 5,000-word essay and connecting all the ideas feels more like torture than pleasure.
Sometimes I read a good article and send it to my friends, fully aware that none of us really has the patience for that. We have a phrase: “not reading allat essay!” Then we all laugh and go back to sending reels in the group chat.
This is year 2025, and essays are dead. I’m not sure if i should be happy or sad about it. I just vaguely remember when essays were still “a thing.”
In school we were taught to read good essays and follow their structure: anecdotal introduction, key arguments, evidence, elaboration, counterarguments, rebuttals. The format could vary, but the core is constant: you bring the readers on a journey of discovery.
First you show them: “look, there is something interesting.” They take a peek and become curious.
Then you walk them through this logical chain: “here’s some research; here’s a historical fact; oh btw, let me tell you this true story… Hey look, we have arrived.”
“Wow! Now I see it too.”
People often ask: “Everything we need to know can be found online, why bother with schools? why read books? I can get ChatGPT wisdom all day.”
I think the real value of schools, books, and essays isn't "what to know," but "how to think." The value lies in the journey of intellectual exploration itself, not just the destination. We learn how to gather evidence, organize thoughts, form arguments, and evaluate information.
Long-form reading digests fragmented knowledge in order, and builds internal systems with it.
But today that art, namely the art of “thinking”, seems to be lost or undervalued.
The standards for “good writing” has also quietly changed. Content is now evaluated by virality, not intentionality.
In fact, algorithms are designed to discourage the latter, since the journey of thinking is inherently exhausting and rigorous. It is not a pleasant experience to sit there for 10 minutes just to digest what some random person has to yap about a subject matter.
Algorithms save readers that rigor, and hand you the comfort of “not having to think” on a silver platter.
Much like the "Brave New World" described by Huxley, the real dystopia, it turns out, doesn't even need to suppress thought with force. It simply replaces the hard mental labor with sweet treats. Critical thinking, and subsequently the urge to challenge the system, becomes optional, then obsolete.
Given our luxury of passive consumption, the principle of “good writing” today has become “just cut to the chase.” Don’t bother with the journey; just show a picture of the destination. Have them drool over it so you can sell.
Ask: how to make them click? Not: how to make them think?
If you’ve ever been on any social media platforms, the most viral posts always sound like “marketing slogans”: provocative hook + key ideas + call to action. Instant dopamine, like caffeine shots straight to the head, so that your reader will want to hit that like button.
To be a creator in 2025, the golden formula is:
- Hook (0–5 s): start with an intriguing line or question (“Most people do this wrong…”)
- Story or tip (6–45 s): show real action, a transformation, or teach something quick.
- Sound cue + visual appeal — sync a trending sound or jingle with visual punch.
- Call to action (last 5 s) — ask to comment, follow, share.
Is this "good writing"? I would still say so. It's highly optimized, metrics verified, and serves its purpose well. But I'm wondering if ten years from now, this will be the new "essay format" taught in schools.
Then we can finally say: the machines didn't replace us; we willingly became them.
Essay is dead. This could be an eulogy, but I’d rather detach myself from grief. Old things die. Like handwritten letters, essays may simply become a memory from the past.
One thing I know about funerals, is that the next day everyone goes back to work. I may want to stay a little longer, but the world keeps turning, and tomorrow has already begun.