THE COST OF ATTENTION. - by Trixie Wrights

What if we're asking the wrong question? The Olodo Uprising asks whether we're rewarding ignorance or authenticity. I don't think that's the real debate. I think we're rewarding inauthenticity through attention. Hear me out. Attention is the internet's currency. It doesn't care whether something is intelligent, authentic or foolish. It only cares whether we stop scrolling. We're all "olodos" somewhere. I know very little about tech, but creativity is one of my strengths. Ignorance has domains. That isn't the problem. The problem is when ignorance—real or performed—is used as a strategy for attention. To me, the Olodo Uprising isn't just the rise of people seen as ignorant. It's the rise of content where ignorance—real or performed—is packaged as entertainment because it attracts attention. Not everyone trending for the "wrong reasons" is necessarily ignorant. Some creators understand that confusion sparks debate, memes travel faster than facts, and controversy keeps people watching. In those moments, ignorance stops being a limitation and becomes a performance. The audience sees an "olodo." The algorithm sees engagement. Imagine two creators. Tunde creates insightful educational content for 2,000 followers. People respect his knowledge, but his videos rarely travel beyond his audience. Dele also knows how to create good content, but he intentionally exaggerates confusion and plays into stereotypes. He has over two million followers because his content keeps people talking. Tunde understands his subject. Dele understands how to get attention. The uncomfortable truth is that the internet often pays more for the second skill—not because Dele is more knowledgeable, but because he understands what keeps people watching. Every view, repost, comment or quote is a reward. Whether we engage because something is brilliant, ridiculous or frustrating, our attention tells the algorithm to show it to more people. That's why I don't believe the real issue is choosing between authenticity and ignorance. The bigger problem is inauthenticity—when people discover that performing ignorance is more profitable than demonstrating competence, and audiences unknowingly finance those performances with their attention. But what if they're not performing? What if the ignorance is real? Then that's a real problem and should be part of the discussion. Wilful ignorance can stunt individual and collective growth. The danger isn't that ignorance exists. It always has. The danger is that attention has become blind enough to reward performance as quickly as substance. If we want a different internet, we have to become more intentional about what we reward. But based on this discussion, performative ignorance is a form of inauthenticity—and that is the problem. Every click is a vote. Every share is an endorsement. We are giving them the go-ahead to continue. And whatever we repeatedly reward, people will eventually learn to produce. That is why the question isn't only whether we're rewarding ignorance or authenticity. We should also ask what our attention is teaching people to become.

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