Social media has not suddenly destroyed our social life; it has gradually replaced small parts of our social environment including neighbour, one habit at a time.
There was a time—not very long ago—when visiting a neighbour required very little planning. You simply walked over. Perhaps you found someone sitting on the verandah. Perhaps a few people had already gathered. Conversation began without an agenda. News travelled from one household to another. Children played outside while adults talked. Sometimes nothing important was discussed, yet something important happened: people remained connected.
Today, we are more connected than ever. Yet one wonders whether we are still truly neighbours in the way we once were. Social media has not suddenly destroyed our social life. The change has been much quieter than that. It has gradually replaced small parts of our social environment, one habit at a time.
We no longer always visit someone to know how they are doing. We check their Facebook status. We do not have to ask what happened at an event. Someone has already uploaded photographs and videos. We may know what our friends ate for dinner, where they travelled, and what they are thinking about politics—but we may not have sat down and spoken with them for weeks.
The strange thing is that we can feel socially informed while becoming socially distant. That may be one of the quietest changes social media has brought into our lives. From visiting neighbours to visiting profiles.
In Naga society, community has traditionally been built through physical presence. People visited one another, young people gathered, and children played outside. Neighbours knew what was happening in neighboring homes—not because of notifications, but because they lived close to one another. Of course, we should not romanticise the past as if everything were perfect. Every generation has its problems. But something has undeniably changed in the ordinary practice of being together.
Today, before visiting someone, we may first send a message: “Are you home?” And sometimes the conversation that might once have happened face-to-face is completed entirely on WhatsApp. The neighbour is still next door. But increasingly, we meet them through a screen.
Communication scholars sometimes describe our media environment as an ecology. The idea is simple: just as we are shaped by the physical environment around us, we are also shaped by the communication environment in which we live. Social media is therefore not merely something we use occasionally. It increasingly becomes part of the environment in which we form relationships, spend our time, and understand the world.
This may appear to be a small change. But social life is made up of small habits. When enough small habits change, the entire environment of human relationships changes with them.
Is every fifth person becoming a content creator? Walk through Nagaland today, and one gets the impression that almost every fifth person is a content creator—or wants to become one. There is nothing inherently wrong with that. Content creation has created opportunities. Young people are discovering talents, building audiences, promoting local businesses, showcasing Naga culture, and even earning income. Some of our content creators have brought Nagaland to audiences far beyond the state. That is the positive side.
But there is another question worth asking: What happens when ordinary life increasingly becomes content? A meal is no longer simply a meal; it may become a video. A journey becomes a vlog; a family gathering becomes a reel. A festival becomes content. Even a private moment sometimes appears to need an audience before it feels complete. The issue is not that people are creating content. The issue is whether we are slowly learning to experience life for the camera.
There is a difference between recording a beautiful moment and being unable to experience a beautiful moment without recording it. One preserves the experience; the other can gradually replace the experience.
The playground has moved indoors. Perhaps the most visible transformation can be seen among children. Many of us remember spending long hours outdoors. We played games that did not require charging. We ran, argued, formed teams, fought, reconciled, and returned home when someone finally called us.
Today, the screen has become a major part of childhood. The outdoor playground increasingly competes with YouTube, mobile games, short videos, and social media. And the problem is not limited to children. Parents too are looking at screens. A family can now sit together in the same room while each person inhabits a completely different world. The father is scrolling through Facebook. The mother is watching videos. The child is playing a game. Another child is watching YouTube. Everyone is together. But is everyone together?
This is perhaps the question our generation must learn to ask. Technology has brought people into the same digital spaces while sometimes quietly removing them from the physical spaces they occupy. We are not simply using social media; this is the deeper issue. We often say: “I use Facebook.” “I use Instagram.” “I use YouTube.” But over time, these platforms also shape the environment in which we live.
They influence what we notice, they influence what we talk about, they influence what we consider important, they influence what makes us angry, they influence what we desire, and increasingly, they influence how we spend our time.
The danger is not simply addiction. The greater danger may be that we stop noticing the changes because they happen gradually. Nobody woke up one morning and decided; "From today, I will stop visiting my neighbours and spend my evenings scrolling.” That is not how social change usually happens. One small habit changes. Then another, then another. Eventually, a whole generation discovers that its social environment has changed. Perhaps we need to become neighbours again.
This is not an argument for abandoning social media. That would be unrealistic—and unnecessary. Social media is now part of our world. It has brought opportunities, communication, education, entertainment, and new forms of creativity.
But perhaps we need to ask a simple question: What should social media never be allowed to replace? It should not replace friendship; it should not replace family conversation; it should not replace children playing outdoors; it should not replace visiting someone who is lonely; it should not replace sitting with another human being without constantly checking a phone, and perhaps it should not replace the simple practice of being a neighbour.
The next time we wonder why people feel increasingly isolated despite being constantly connected, perhaps we should look around. Our neighbours may still be there. The problem is that all of us may be looking somewhere else. At our screens.
Mughalu T. Kinimi