BMonths pass with minimal updates on streaming platforms surpassing traditional television. YouTube remains the leader with 2.5 billion viewers monthly. For those of us around 28 and younger, YouTube is less of an application and more of a response to the omnipresent background noise of today’s life. While my mother fills the house with Radio 4 or has BBC News flickering in the background, I’m engrossed in a video essay on Japan’s innovative urban planning. It’s not that I entirely avoid traditional TV (though I primarily access it through various streaming services), but after a long day, the thought of enduring another hour of intense programming feels overwhelming. More often than not, I gravitate towards YouTube, meaning it’s improbable that we’re viewing the same content.

When Google acquired the platform for $1.65 billion in 2006, the amount seemed outrageous. Many critics doubted whether any video platform could justify such a valuation. The reasoning was straightforward: Unless YouTube could eclipse television, it would never attain that worth. Fast forward nearly two decades, and that perspective significantly underestimates YouTube’s evolution. It hasn’t merely replaced TV; it has also pioneered entirely new content formats, such as vodcasts, vlogs, video essays, reaction videos, ASMR, and its controversial counterpart, mukbang. The platform has effortlessly adapted to emerging trends, establishing an alternate ‘online mainstream’. Long before podcasters, TikTokers, substack writers, or influencers emerged, there were YouTubers.

I began my YouTube Premium subscription during the COVID-19 lockdown when I found myself with ample time, no commute, and extra cash. Currently, it’s the only subscription I don’t question in terms of value; instead, I contemplate whether it significantly impacts my personal growth. Regrettably, my gym membership doesn’t match this criteria.

The standout advantage of a premium subscription is the absence of ads. Additionally, the smart downloads feature, which automatically curates episodes for your queue based on viewing habits, has been invaluable during lengthy subway rides. I rarely experience boredom nowadays. On my daily commute instead of staring vacantly out the window, I enjoy sports highlights or listen to podcasts. I find myself immersed in YouTube without a second thought.

I feel a bit sheepish admitting that a random burst of short stories about guitar instructors and teenage garage bands reignited my passion for playing. It’s akin to confessing you met your significant other on Hinge. Yet, that’s precisely the point. YouTube has democratized expertise in a manner that traditional media never achieved. Moreover, it aligns with the social norms around media consumption on mobile devices. I wouldn’t dare watch a Spielberg or Scorsese film on a 6-inch screen; it feels disrespectful to the artistry. However, behind-the-scenes footage and promotional tour clips? That’s the ideal use for YouTube.

I indulge in a mix of homegrown YouTube creators, such as Amelia DiMoldenburg’s Chicken Shop Date, XXSyHighroller for NBA analysis, Tifo Football for tactical breakdowns, and Happy Sad Confused for film interviews. Additionally, I consume a steady stream of content initially designed for television and print but now reaches vast audiences through YouTube, including shows like Graham Norton, Saturday Night Live, and fellow journalists like Owen Jones and Mark Kermode. Sports highlights also thrive on the platform, providing an unparalleled convenience that traditional broadcasters struggle to offer, especially regarding paywalled sports like cricket and the NFL, which demand significant financial and temporal investment to access live.

Nevertheless, this convenience isn’t without its challenges. YouTube’s intensely personalized algorithms ensure that everyone’s viewing experience is unique. While previous generations could bond over the question, “Did you catch that last night?” now people are entrenched in their individual algorithmic bubbles. Despite the abundance of choices, we’ve lost the shared cultural experience. Even YouTube’s significant moments are splintered in a way that Saturday night television never was. When far-right politicians lament societal divisions, their focus might be better directed toward our viewing behaviors instead of immigration concerns. My enjoyment of algorithms might be more aligned with a 28-year-old in Bangalore than with the 45-year-old neighbor next door.

While this reality can be unsettling, there’s a noteworthy exception. Although YouTube intensifies viewing discrepancies across many demographics, it has forged a near-monoculture among younger audiences. Figures like Joe Rogan, Theo Von, Rex Fridman, and a revolving group of intellectuals, including podcasters aligned with President Trump and the late Charlie Kirk, have fostered a pervasive and relaxed dialogue among men in my age group. Although YouTube has democratized access to long-form discussions in enriching ways, it has also facilitated a pipeline for increasingly detrimental content. The platform’s algorithms not only highlight what piques your interest but also what captures your attention longer, which aren’t always the same. This phenomenon tends to elevate extreme viewpoints and fringe theories, leading viewers on a gradual journey from innocuous to genuinely harmful misinformation without them realizing it. Furthermore, it’s challenging for communities to self-regulate since everyone within a demographic shares a similar experience.

Recent statistics show that YouTube users consume over 1 billion hours of content daily around the globe. For better or worse, YouTube has emerged victorious, and I’m mostly okay with that. You might want to consult your outdated TV guide to figure out what’s on BBC Two at 9 PM. However, perhaps we should reassess the balance—not only between YouTube and competing platforms but also between YouTube and everything else. I’m uncertain about the solution…but I’m fairly confident there’s a video essay that can tell me what I should think.

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