Written by Anna-Marieke Lechner-Scott
Illustration by Faith Freshwater
This piece was originally published in ‘Chimera’, Bossy’s 2022 print edition.
StudyTube is weird. I jumped in, expecting Lo-Fi music and aesthetic bullet journaling tips. In horror, I travelled down a rabbit hole of self-help channels that finally led me to Jordan Peterson’s top tips on being a far-right wanker. I won’t lie, I fucking hate self-help, and StudyTube is no exception. On one end, it’s dominated by self-important men, like Jack Ma, Elon Musk, Richard Branson, and other ridiculous billionaires who think that because they have a big number to their names, they have “won” the dogfight of success. On the other end, dripping-with-nostalgia clean girls present a stylised, perfect aesthetic. Between these extremes lies a plethora of creators, all of whom present a similar message: “This video will
change your life.”
I struggle to come up with a definition for StudyTube. Five years ago, the StudyTube genre of online content was mainly notebook recommendations and tips on how to make your dorm room look like an early 2010s Tumblr post. Now, StudyTube has developed into a fully-fledged ecosystem of travel vlogs; humble bragging about getting into “OxBridge” or Harvard; day in the life vlogs; and long-form video essays about anything from racism in society to stock market investment advice. It presents a life that is better than yours, no matter how privileged you may be. Video titles like “MY 6AM STUDY MORNING ROUTINE AT UNIVERSITY” present a desirable and peaceful university life, more insidiously romanticised than anything a marketing department could come up with.
StudyTube is like a new version of reality TV, except it’s not fun. Instead of a hyped-up, larger-than-life spectacle, it presents a Lofi, romanticised student life. You know the vibe: bumps and crackles
of a record playing non-penetrative hiphop, maybe some rain effects, pastel or natural colour palettes. You all know her: the little cartoon anime girl who is trapped in an eldritch study prison, doomed to wiggle her pen on a matte background notebook for eternity. The YouTube channel Lofi Girl is probably the largest dedicated content creator in the genre, with more than 12 billion views and counting. I’ll admit, as far as white noise for studying goes, this channel makes great content. Lofi extends beyond just the sonic content of these pages—the composition of shots, the design of interiors and set-ups, even the mechanical keyboards and retro-tech all seem to amplify feelings of nostalgia, calm, and quiet in the audience. This feeling is perhaps the soundtrack to your quiet times; perhaps even what you’re listening to now. It is now a product that you can consume.
Worst of all, unlike reality TV, StudyTube isn’t self-aware. The fourth wall of reality TV, the one that separates you from the drama on screen, is totally absent from StudyTube. As a viewer, I don’t think you
feel jealous or inferior as other critics have suggested, but you do dream of an easy way out of the struggles of modern student life. StudyTube gives you simple solutions to systemic problems, such as morning yoga, bullet journaling, and the Pomodoro Technique. Most viewers watch maybe one or two videos before they move on to what they consider to be more interesting media. This is reflected in the massive difference between the view counts on top videos versus regular viewers. Maybe viewers implement positive changes espoused by these creators; maybe they don’t and move on. Maybe (unlike me) they even keep these habits for more than two weeks. For viewers who stick around, though, the allure of these channels is
more like digital escapism than healthy living techniques. Viewers switch on to consume a vision of student life free from any of the barriers or injustices that any one of us may face. To consume the fundamental myth: this lifestyle is possible, if only you had the right techniques.
The lack of real student struggles is epitomised in the narrow vision of student life StudyTube presents. For this piece, I surveyed 25 StudyTube channels with 25 million subscribers and more than 32 billion views. Creators are rarely international students, they rarely show financial difficulty, and all of them attend prestige universities—a term I and others critical of the veneration of particular academic institutions dreamt up to group together Ivy league, Sandstone, Oxbridge, and other self-righteously “elite” schools. Not one of these
creators mentioned working during their studies. StudyTube is a space where the audience can live out their fantasies of being rich, powerful, and successful. It paints student life as a fundamentally
accessible pathway out of adversity. You aren’t faced with the mental health crisis, the lack of job opportunities, or the financial hardship that students deal with every day. Our own prestige university continues to be plagued with student homelessness, a lack of mental health services, and constant financial stress. Instead, StudyTube showcases a fantasy of what it means to be a student; or, as we peel back the layers of ideology, it pretends that a stable, healthy, middle-class life is achievable for you, too. The travel vlogs, celebrity interviews, and study routines all reflect a lifestyle that is simply unobtainable for most people.
The fantasy of moving to a prestige university and following a disciplined, yet simplistic, routine that is entirely focused on a study/life balance is totally removed from the real difficulties of living away from home. Moreover, it doesn’t include the real anxiety of not
knowing how you will make a living in an economy that increasingly disregards academic thought while also requiring a fully completed degree, unpaid work experience, and hours of futile volunteering. It reinforces university as the foundational meritocratic institution, which proves the success of liberal capitalism. In reality, university is only accessible to those with enough capital to pursue grades or the elaborate early entry schemes offered by Australian prestige universities. StudyTube isn’t a reflection of reality, but a fiction of
student life—a propagandistic dream of the way society works.
One of the main criticisms of StudyTube is its fostering of “parasocial relationships”. The term is often used in criticisms of the Internet, and changes definitions depending on which discipline you draw from. The most consistent definition comes from psychology, where an enduring relationship is formed between a media user and a mediated personality. Critics of StudyTube often use the idea
of parasocial relationships to take issue with StudyTubers’ attempts at replacing study partners— particularly their livestreams and
lifestyle/Study with Me videos—however, this is a misapplication
of the concept. “Parasocial relationships” emphasise a connection between individuals. Instead of a systemic criticism, it points to both the creator and the individual viewer as being responsible for the interaction, rather than the systemic erosion of real social connection. Every time I see people on the Internet using the term, it’s always tinged with a condescending criticism of women who work in media; it’s often used either to stereotype young girls who take their One Direction phase a little too seriously, or as a way to justify predatory men stalking celebrities.
If we shift our focus from “parasocial relationships” to a systemic pattern of social atomisation, we can draw a more meaningful criticism of online personality porn. The StudyTube audience is driven
by a feeling of loneliness, and the desire to fill the social void left by the pandemic. More accurately, though, the StudyTube influencer is part of an online ecosystem that thinks it can recreate the way that
we interact with each other. Hanging out with your friends (even on a Zoom call) is supplemented with a Twitch stream where you can tip the creator so that they acknowledge your existence. The “social” relationship becomes commodified, where you can emulate the lifestyle of your chosen superstar, and even communicate with them,
without ever actually having access to the privilege that they wield. This superficial capitalist replacement for real human connection has darker effects, too. As has been well documented by tech specialists in The New York Times— Becca Lewis’s critique in FFWD is also particularly comprehensive—YouTube has a general problem with putting people on a trajectory to consuming far-right propaganda, and StudyTube is no exception. Even while watching more
progressive BIPOC creators, the algorithm put me toward content that was less socially aware, but similarly diverse. After no more than two or three videos, the top recommended video in my sidebar was Jordan Peterson reading his silly little lobster book.
StudyTube is more than just a toxic point of self-comparison or advertisements for various study aids. It’s a genre that presents a fictional paradise within which students live. Student problems are
distilled into little self-contained boxes like “anxiety” or “focusing”—boxes that are easily managed with small changes to the way you live your life. In the StudyTube universe, the fundamentally flawed work environment is a product of your lack of discipline, not the decadeslong erosion of workers’ and students’ rights. I don’t want to blame StudyTube creators for the insidious ideology that
underpins their work, but the Pomodoro Technique isn’t going to help a student make the decision between food or rent. StudyTube isn’t the whole problem, but a symptom of a system that is crumbling at the seams. The ideal of a university life free from the demands of living in a capitalist economy is over, and StudyTube is only a product of decades of neoliberal propaganda.
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