“It’s not that deep.” A phrase ubiquitous in social media comment sections and algorithms. 

The retort is short, simple and versatile. It can be used in response to various scenarios. From seeing a negative film review about a genuinely bad movie you loved? “It’s not that deep.” To the urge to laugh at a slightly racist joke when some “woker” in the comments is calling out the offensive repercussions of it? “It’s not that deep.” 

Although meant to present a more philosophically laidback approach to life, in reality, the phrase turns more of a blind eye than it does examine things through rose-colored lenses.

The issue presents itself in spaces of art and literature; there, depth is treated as pretension rather than genuine engagement. The popular musician Sombr admitted on the “Switched On Pop” podcast to making music more focused on TikTok algorithms than lyricism and poetry. Audience resistance to critical examination overshadows innovation in favor of platforming unoriginality.

The normalization of “reading what you want” labels those who seek more complex literature as elitist, taking away the nuance of reading as a means of learning, challenging or growth rather than just mere entertainment.  

In a media environment that prizes nonchalance and irony, where young people are encouraged to equate emotional detachment with coolness, I’m tired of the phrase and the notions that follow. This culture breeds future generations into apathetic and selfish individuals who are unconcerned about their impact on the broader world.           

“It’s not that deep” not only promotes anti-intellectualism, but is an action of self-sabotage — it’s an excuse to disengage from further interpretation, critique and meaning altogether.  

At the end of December 2025, Netflix released “Stranger Things’” grand finale — and to be frank, it sucked. Coupled with the corny dialogue and the actors’ constant prioritization of serving face instead of acting, the expectations of the show were missed. It was evident that the writing and storytelling was lazy. Nearly ten years of anticipation and build-up ended in quite literally six minutes of resolution. 

While I would love to wholeheartedly place blame on the twin menace Duffer Brothers, it’s also largely attributed to Netflix’s “casual viewing” algorithm, which is also a broader industry trend. In a 2025 n+1 essay, “Casual Viewing: Why Netflix looks like that,” Will Tavlin writes how the streaming giant began to increasingly create content specifically for distracted consumption — shows meant to be half-watched alongside the presence of other media. 

Distracted consumption means viewers are more likely to miss out on nuances. Therefore, media platforms no longer feel the need to include them, resulting in overexplained, repetitive and recycled stories that are not worth analyzing because they’re simply uninteresting.  

“Instead of acquiring films by auteurs, which had gotten them into trouble …  they turned to a safer, more uniform product that could be made in-house, and replicated and tailored to the diverse tastes of their enormous subscriber bases,” Tavlin wrote.

Media industries continue to churn out meaningless projects that can be consumed passively. And by continuously pushing for the idea that nothing is deep and everything should be absorbed at the surface level, we are perpetuating this consumerist mindset, prioritizing surface-level engagement over risk, nuance and experimentation. The concept of “show, not tell” is now foreign, and it’s starting to become noticeable. 

This phenomenon is additionally present in contemporary publishing. Literary success used to take years of poring over drafts, tirelessly seeking a publisher and waiting years for a hit. Now, this work has fallen short, with many books earning the title of “New York Times Bestseller” with juvenile writing that focuses more on explicitness or shock factor rather than cohesion or depth within storylines. 

Anti-intellectualism is the reason why audiences had to suffer through the screen adaptation Colleen Hoover’s “Regretting You” (2025) and face threatening rumors of Sarah J. Maas adaptations. It is also the reason why we will continue to be disappointed by new film releases and series finales. 

The issue isn’t any one author or genre — if we continue to promote the idea that nothing should be examined beyond the surface, we are failing ourselves as intellectuals and consumers. 

Ignorance is being conditioned into our daily lives, bleeding into humanitarian issues and already proving to have dangerous consequences. Eventually, anti-intellectualism will run deeper than an unwillingness to think critically and transform into an inability to be empathetic with other humans. Ignorance will not just be tolerated, but normalized.

TikToker @teejtown describes this mindset bluntly, calling it a failure of humanity.

“You failed at the simplest thing there was to do, and that was to be a human, to be a person,” he said. “You get it hammered into your head from birth to treat others the way you want to be treated. The golden rule. Have feelings. That’s the point.” 

Why are we as a generation so afraid to feel deeply? It’s a question I continue to ask my peers and answer confidently: I feel because I can’t help it and I don’t want to be unfeeling. If I wasn’t emotional and overeager, I wouldn’t be who I am. So, I encourage you to feel and think deeply so as to remain intelligent, vigilant and empathetic — it really is that deep.