(Credit: Photo circulating online provided by Angy Choufany)
Angy Choufany is a student at the American University of Beirut.
My phone lit up with a notification: “Get ready. You might have to leave the South tonight.” Suddenly, my mother was packing my whole life into a black bag, that same bag we have used for emergencies since Oct. 8, 2023. Just hours earlier, my biggest concern had been finishing assignments and preparing for university classes. At that moment, it all felt trivial. More texts appeared, one after the other: “Are you leaving tonight?” Ping. “Did you hear that?” Ping. “Are you OK?”
Bags were packed quickly. We left our home and locked it without knowing when, or if, we would return. Meanwhile, my phone kept lighting up.
Tap. A video of explosions is circulating on Instagram.
Tap. A cat video.
Tap. Another breaking news alert.
Tap. A skincare reel.
Tap. Another headline.
Tap. A meme.
Scroll, gasp, smile, repeat.
How can one process what’s going on in the world if it all hits them in one scroll?
When the brain tunes out
Our nervous systems cannot tell the difference between “just watching” content and experiencing it. Repeated exposure programs us to absorb media without reacting to it. Because we constantly experience the world as a violent and hopeless place, our empathy has become stunted.
Our generation was born into a world of mass tragedy. From COVID-19 to the Beirut Port explosion, instability was never distant from us. In Lebanon, moments of crisis are often met with the phrase “taawadna”— meaning “we’re used to it.” But something is troubling about this acceptance.
People often say our generation is “too soft.” I beg to differ. If anything, we are desensitized. We are constantly exposed to the world's suffering. We scroll, thinking we’re informed and aware. But in reality, “bread and circuses” are constant distractions that keep us from processing and feeling. We scroll past suffering until it no longer moves us.
Neuroscience researchers confirm that this kind of overstimulation does not make us more aware. Instead, it dulls our emotional responses.
A study conducted at the American University of Beirut’s Faculty of Medicine examined more than 207 school-aged Lebanese children who were exposed to war and media violence. It found that repeated exposure can lead to desensitization and reduced emotional responses to suffering.
But why do people become desensitized? It is not that they don't care; their brains rather adapt. When we are repeatedly exposed to intense emotions, shocking events, or even constant bad news, the nervous system begins numbing its response as a coping mechanism.
Physiologically, the goal is not to become numb — it is to survive. The brain tries to conserve energy and shield itself from emotional overload. It is the nervous system saying, “This is too much.” Desensitization is a form of emotional self-protection, but it comes at a cost. People may begin to feel disconnected, less empathetic, or even guilty for not reacting “enough.”
Memes, machines, and the politics of numbness
There is also a political dimension to this desensitization. One concept that has emerged in many corners of social media in recent years is “memetic warfare.” The term refers to a form of information warfare conducted online through memes and other tactics to achieve political, strategic, or ideological objectives.
For example, the countless memes circulating about the U.S. Department of Justice’s release of millions of items in Jeffrey Epstein's files: Many young people have encountered the story through jokes about his island, where many of his human trafficking crimes were reportedly committed.
Humor, in this sense, can act as a shield. It allows us to acknowledge something troubling without taking it seriously.
Popular culture also plays a role in desensitizing us. Long before people encounter war in reality, they encounter it through movies, television, and video games. Shock becomes comfort with repeated exposure.
Since 1983, films have explored the idea of algorithmic warfare, systems making strategic decisions, algorithms influencing military action, and machines operating without hesitation. Today, this has become our reality in Lebanon. Drones fighting drones, AI choosing targets. Zero emotion, zero hesitation.
Yet, if we allow ourselves to sit with the reality of suffering instead of scrolling past it, that discomfort could lead to solidarity and action. Some people speak out. Others volunteer, organize, or donate.
There are many ways to respond to the atrocities, and AUB’s culture of civic engagement makes that more accessible. But perhaps it starts with something smaller: pausing, even for a moment, to resist desensitization and sensory overload, and to hold on to our humanity.
Exceptional!
22 May 2026 18:15