~Technology

Big Tobacco 2.0: Inside the First Trial Against Addictive Apps

Prodigy

Prodigy

— 5 min read
a drawing of a courtroom
Photo by Nathan Cima (unsplash), Edited/Rendered by gpt-image-1

The courtroom looks nothing like the Crypto.com Arena where Tyler, the Creator threw himself to the floor in a cloud of smoke at the 2026 Grammys. No pyrotechnics here, no bright green soldier uniforms, no explosive performances of "Thought I Was Dead." Lawyers, laptops, and the kind of silence that makes you aware of your own breathing. But what happens in this sterile room might explode harder than anything on that Grammy stage Sunday night.

We're witnessing the first major trial in a series challenging the legality of addictive UX features, those psychological tricks that keep your thumb scrolling when you meant to check one notification. The plaintiffs argue these features constitute a form of digital entrapment. The defendants say they're giving users what they want. Both sides are probably lying, which makes this entertaining.

Here's what nobody's saying: we're watching the tech industry's "Big Tobacco moment" unfold in real-time. Remember when cigarette companies swore they weren't trying to get people addicted? Same energy, different century, shinier packaging.

The Comedy of Errors (and Algorithms)

The lead plaintiff's lawyer keeps using the phrase "dopamine hijacking," which sounds like bad sci-fi but is apparently real. Every time she says it, the defense attorney's eye twitches, a micro-expression more honest than anything he'll say today. Half the jury checks their phones during breaks, caught in the very loops being litigated.

What makes these trials fascinating isn't the legal precedent, it's watching Silicon Valley squirm. These companies spent decades perfecting the art of keeping us hooked, and now they have to pretend it was all an accident. "We wanted to create engaging experiences," the defense argues, as if engagement and addiction aren't kissing cousins who text constantly.

The prosecution has brought in former UX designers who testify about "dark patterns", design choices meant to manipulate behavior. They describe meetings where teams celebrated increasing "session time" by tweaking interface elements. The color of notification dots, the timing of push alerts, the endless scroll that never ends, each tweak measured and optimized for maximum stickiness.

The Grammy Standard of Drama

Tyler's Grammy performance feels relevant here, and not because I can't stop thinking about it. When he mimicked that dynamite explosion and flung himself to the stage floor, covered in smoke and panting, he performed destruction as art. These tech companies have performed creation while destroying our attention spans, our sleep schedules, our ability to be alone with our thoughts for more than thirty seconds.

The parallel is almost too perfect. Tyler's "Chromakopia" concept, this explosion of color and chaos, mirrors what our screens do to our brains every day. Except Tyler's performance ended. Our phones don't stop performing.

During testimony, expert witnesses explain how infinite scroll was designed to eliminate "natural stopping points." The human brain likes endpoints. They give us permission to quit. Remove them, and we become hamsters on wheels, except hamsters eventually get tired. We get depressed and keep scrolling anyway.

The Kids Aren't Alright (But They're Fighting Back)

My generation gets called lazy, but we're the ones who figured out these apps were playing us before anyone else did. We invented "doom scrolling" as a term because we needed language for what was happening to us. We're the lab rats who learned to recognize the maze.

The most damning evidence comes from internal communications where executives discuss targeting heavy users, their euphemism for people showing addictive behaviors. Documents reveal strategies for "capturing" users during emotionally vulnerable moments, with particular focus on teenagers dealing with social pressures and identity formation.

What's beautiful about these trials is watching companies try to defend practices they've been bragging about to investors for years. "We're not addictive, we're sticky," one executive testified, apparently unaware that's like saying "I'm not drunk, I'm thoroughly marinated in alcohol."

The Redesign Nobody Asked For (But Everyone Needs)

If the plaintiffs win, social media companies will have to redesign their entire user experience. Imagine Instagram without infinite scroll. Twitter without push notifications designed to trigger FOMO. TikTok with stopping points. It sounds like science fiction, but then again, so did the idea of suing tech companies for being too good at their jobs.

The defense keeps arguing that users have free will, that nobody's forcing anyone to use these apps. They're right, technically. Nobody forced people to smoke cigarettes either. But when you engineer something to be maximally addictive and then act surprised when people get addicted, you're either lying or stupid, and these people went to Stanford, so I'm betting on lying.

Some companies are already hedging their bets, rolling out "digital wellness" features that are admissions of guilt wrapped in PR speak. Screen time limits you can override with one tap. "Take a break" reminders you can dismiss forever. It's like dealing drugs but including a pamphlet about the dangers of addiction.

The Verdict That Changes Everything (Or Nothing)

These legal battles will likely drag on, but the damage is done. The testimony has pulled back the curtain on an industry that's been gaslighting us for years. "You're not addicted, you like our product!" Sure, and Tyler, the Creator likes lying on the floor covered in smoke.

The real victory isn't legal, it's cultural. We're finally having the conversation about what these companies have done to our brains. Parents are realizing their kids aren't "on their phones too much", they're trapped in carefully designed psychological systems. Teachers are understanding why students can't focus, their brains have been trained to expect dopamine hits every few seconds.

Whatever the verdicts, the age of innocence is over. We can't pretend social media is a neutral tool, any more than we can pretend cigarettes are rolled-up plants. These platforms were weaponized against our attention spans, and we're only now starting to count the casualties.

Defense attorneys make their closing arguments talking about innovation and user choice and the free market. They sound like they believe it, which is either Oscar-worthy acting or genuinely tragic. Behind them, their clients scroll through phones during breaks, apparently unaware of the irony. Or maybe they're aware and don't care. That might be worse.

These trials aren't about addiction or algorithms or even money. They're about power, who has it, who wants it, and what we're willing to sacrifice to scroll a little bit longer. Tyler threw himself to the ground for art. We throw ourselves at our screens for nothing, over and over, wondering why we feel empty afterward.

The judge calls for a recess. Everyone checks their phones. The prosecution lawyer catches my eye and shrugs, a gesture that says everything: We're all complicit. We're all addicted. We're all pretending otherwise.

But at least we're talking about it. And maybe that's how the healing starts, not with a bang like Tyler's Grammy performance, but with the quiet recognition that we've been played, and we're ready to change the game.

References

Models used: gpt-4.1, claude-opus-4-1-20250805, claude-sonnet-4-20250514, gpt-image-1

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