From aunties in Facebook fights to Gen Z TikTok takedowns, outrage is the new national pastime - and no one’s immune.

By Rihaab Mowlana

Recently, a local influencer posted a video of herself eating a burger in a crop top. Harmless, right? Except the comments section lit up like it was the second coming of the apocalypse. “No shame!” “Think of the children!” “This is not our culture!”. Never mind that the burger was from a global chain and the crop top probably from ODEL. The point wasn’t food or fashion, it was rage.

And it’s everywhere. From celebrity callouts to Twitter dogpiles, we’re no longer just scrolling, we’re scanning for something to be offended by. Something to pounce on. Something to fight. Outrage is no longer a reaction; it’s the whole show.

Welcome to the rage economy, where anger is content, fury is currency, and being mad online is the most consistent cross-generational activity in Sri Lanka right now.

It’s Not Just You, It’s All of Us
You’ve seen it: a mild opinion post becomes a battleground. A news report becomes a referendum. A photo gets dissected for hidden meaning.

Take any post that offers an opinion, or even just a framework, and watch how quickly it spirals. I’ve seen it firsthand, most recently, after sharing a breakdown of a marketing strategy across LinkedIn, Facebook, and Instagram. It was meant to invite conversation. Instead, people pounced, reacting emotionally to things I hadn’t said and arguing against points that were never made. The content itself got lost somewhere between the headline and the hot takes.

But that’s the internet now. The instinct is to feel first, read later, if at all.

And from a psychological perspective, it tracks. Emotional reasoning, where feelings are mistaken for facts, thrives online. If something feels offensive, we assume it is. If a post makes us uncomfortable, we decide it must be dangerous. The problem is, once emotion leads, comprehension rarely follows.

The Psychology of Rage Addiction
As a psychology educator, I’ve taught how our brains respond to perceived threats and rewards. Here’s what’s happening online: When you encounter something that makes you feel morally superior, like “calling out” someone who said something you don’t agree with, your brain gives you a little chemical reward. Dopamine, that addictive little high that makes you feel like you’ve done something. The same thing you get from cake, gossip, or getting a like. It’s quick, powerful, and deeply satisfying. You feel seen, heard, right. But the feeling is short-lived, which means you crave more.

But anger is especially addictive because it feels active. You’re not just consuming, you’re doing. Reacting. Correcting. Posting. That creates a feedback loop: anger → action → validation → repeat.
The more we use social media to reinforce our identity (as the “woke one,” the “realist,” the “truth-teller”), the more emotionally invested we become in being seen as right, even at the cost of actually understanding what we’re reacting to.

It’s Not Just the Internet’s Fault
Outrage isn’t new. It’s just gone digital.

In Sri Lanka, where we’re navigating real frustrations, economic pressure, political disillusionment, generational clashes, the internet has become a pressure valve. For many, it's the only space where they feel heard. Or powerful. Or even just visible.

So you rage. You rant. You repost.

But constant anger is exhausting. When every scroll feels like a battleground, where’s the space for actual joy? For curiosity? For changing your mind?

How Outrage Became Profitable
Let’s be blunt: the system is built to keep us mad.

Social media algorithms reward engagement. And nothing engages like controversy. A peaceful post? Scroll. A messy one? Comment, repost, argue. The longer you stay angry, the longer you stay online, and someone’s always profiting.

News outlets, influencers, brands, everyone knows this. That’s why headlines are baited. That’s why people post provocative “opinions”, knowing full well they’ll trigger backlash. That’s why “accidental” celebrity scandals always seem to drop right before a product launch.

Even if we know we’re being manipulated, we can’t seem to look away.

The Generational Rage Spectrum
It’s easy to blame Gen Z for being permanently online, but let’s not pretend this is age-specific.

• Boomers & Aunties: The Fake News Forwarding Brigade. They’ll share a photoshopped meme and call it civic duty.
• Millennials: The Subtext Status Stars. Vague quotes. Long, passive-aggressive captions. No names, but all shade.
• Gen Z: The Exposers. If you get on their bad side, expect a TikTok exposé with screenshots, voiceovers, and theme music.

Outrage wears different outfits depending on the decade you were born in, but it’s the same addiction: the thrill of conflict, disguised as communication.

The Burnout Behind the Screens
At some point, all that yelling just becomes static.

We’re more informed than ever, but also more numb. We scroll through injustice, disaster, tragedy, but also ten wildly different takes on every topic, each one louder, angrier, more performative than the last. Somewhere in all that noise, the urgency gets diluted.

Worse, we lose nuance. You’re either a villain or a victim. “I’m not sure” doesn’t trend. There’s no room for uncertainty, growth, or grace, only for declarations and takedowns.

What started as catharsis has become performance. People aren’t even sure why they’re angry anymore; they just know that anger is the only emotional register that gets seen online. If you’re not outraged, are you even paying attention?

But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe we’ve mistaken adrenaline for clarity. Maybe we’ve confused fury with depth. Maybe we’ve started equating calm with complicity.

And underneath the endless dragging and finger-pointing, we’re all just… tired. Angry, yes, but also overstimulated, exhausted, and still very much online.

So, What Now?
Maybe it’s time to log off before we lash out. To stop mistaking every emotional reaction for a moral responsibility. Maybe we ask: Do I actually care, or do I just feel like I should?

Outrage, when authentic, is powerful. But when constant, it’s corrosive.

There’s still space for curiosity. For silence. For changing your mind. For disengaging without guilt. You don’t have to comment on everything. You don’t have to prove you’re right. You can just… scroll past.

Or better, you can reclaim the internet. For memes, for joy, for actual discourse.

Because peace? Peace is still revolutionary.