In the July 5th edition of the Good Weekend, I read an article titled “The Final Chapter”. It delivered a sobering message: fewer people are reading, and when they do, they’re reading less. Bookstores may still exist, but the habit of reading books—especially among young people—is since the 1990s in steep decline. The piece paints a cultural portrait of a society turning away from deep reading and reflective engagement, in favour of screen-based distraction. And there’s a growing body of evidence suggesting that this shift is not just an aesthetic change, but one that carries real social and political consequences.
The digital disruption of reading
The rise of the internet, smart phones and more recently, social media—has drastically changed how we consume information. Attention spans have shortened. The constant ping of notifications undermines concentration. Reading, once an immersive experience, is now interrupted by swiping, liking, and scrolling.
Digital platforms are optimised for quick consumption, not deep thinking. Where novels and long-form journalism once encouraged empathy, analysis, and critical thought, algorithm-driven feeds now reward outrage, speed, and superficiality. It’s no coincidence that the decline of reading parallels the rise of disinformation and polarisation. When reading is replaced by reacting, we lose not just facts, but context.
The gendered impact: boys left behind
This cultural shift has had a particularly damaging impact on boys. Literacy gaps between boys and girls have widened, with boys increasingly disengaged from reading at school and at home. In my earlier article on the movie Adolescence, I noted how boys are growing up in a culture that often dismisses emotional development and reflective habits—qualities that reading traditionally nurtured.
Into this vacuum step poisonous figures like Andrew Tate, who present reading and education as irrelevant or even emasculating. Tate’s influence on young men cannot be dismissed: his anti-intellectual, hyper-masculine message spreads easily through TikTok and YouTube, platforms where literacy is irrelevant and virality is king. For boys already struggling with identity and belonging, this message offers validation—but at a high cost.
Why reading still matters
Reading is not a luxury. It underpins our ability to think critically, to empathise with others, and to participate meaningfully in democratic society. It fosters imagination, strengthens vocabulary, and builds the kind of cognitive stamina that complex problem-solving and decision-making demand. Books create space for nuance—something desperately needed in an age of algorithmic extremism and tribal politics.
When we lose a reading culture, we lose much more than entertainment. We lose our ability to communicate across differences, to question power, and to imagine a better future.
America’s warning: a crisis in education
While Australia’s education system faces its own challenges, as the article states the situation in the United States serves as a stark warning. Under the Trump administration, education budgets were slashed, school libraries closed, and curriculum battles intensified. The result? Declining literacy rates, fewer students reading for pleasure, and a culture where books are now subject to political censorship.
This includes the banning of books that address equality, respect for women, racial justice, and LGBTQ+ inclusion—while Mein Kampf, Adolf Hitler’s manifesto, is freely available. The irony is chilling.
This retreat from literacy is not just a domestic concern. It speaks to a global trend: the erosion of a shared base of knowledge and discourse. Democracies depend on citizens who can engage with complexity, analyse information, and question authority. When reading becomes optional, so too does critical thinking.
Europe’s picture: less dramatic, but not immune
In many European countries, the decline in reading is less dramatic thanks to stronger public education systems and better support for libraries and cultural institutions. Countries like Finland and the Netherlands continue to invest in literacy, and reading remains a core part of school curricula. However, even there, digital media consumption is rising, and efforts to promote reading must evolve to keep pace.
A system under strain
The urgency of Australia’s literacy crisis is no longer speculative. The 2024 NAPLAN results show that one in three students is not meeting benchmark expectations. Nearly 10 per cent need additional support just to function at year level, while roughly one-fifth are still only “developing” toward expectations.
This a “code red,” warning indicating that students who start behind often never catch up. Indigenous, rural, and disadvantaged students are particularly at risk. Despite years of increased school funding, literacy outcomes remain stagnant—a sign that cultural and pedagogical shifts are just as necessary as financial ones.
What can be done?
Addressing this crisis means modernising our literacy strategies without compromising depth. Schools need better support for teacher-librarians and equitable access to physical and digital books. Reading must be embedded in the culture of schooling—not just tested through NAPLAN snapshots.
Technology has a role, but it must be applied thoughtfully. While gamification has its critics—and for good reason, as it can mimic the instant gratification loops of social media and pokie machines—it can also serve as a bridge. Carefully designed apps that reward progress through narrative engagement or peer interaction can reintroduce disengaged readers, especially boys, to the pleasures of storytelling. These tools must encourage focus, not distraction.
Programs that connect reading to boys’ interests, offer positive male reading models, and allow space for movement or creativity can also help rebuild habits of attention and curiosity.
A naïve hope, revisited
Back in the 1980s and 1990s, many of us—myself included—believed the internet would empower citizens and strengthen democracy. In fact, around 2012 I served as the digital adviser to the federal government’s Book Industry Collaboration Council, established to implement recommendations from the Book Industry Strategy Group. Those recommendations envisioned robust digital-skills training, new author funding, and a National Book Council.
Yet the government’s response was underwhelming: only the council itself was formed—and without any new funding. The expert group’s promise of systemic reform faded into roundtables and supply‑chain tinkering, with little emphasis on promoting reading habits or adapting literacy culture to the digital age. In retrospect, the absence of concrete investment in digital literacy and reading promotion stands as a missed opportunity—an early warning sign of today’s literacy crisis.
Today, we’re witnessing how digital tools are being weaponised to undermine trust, promote extremism, and erode truth itself. It turns out that access to information alone isn’t enough; people need the skills, habits, and values to engage with it critically. That’s what reading cultivates—and what we risk losing.
Conclusion: rewriting the narrative
We are not yet at the final chapter—but the warning signs are clear. Literacy is more than a personal skill; it’s a foundation of civic life. If we allow screen culture and social media to dominate unchallenged, we risk raising a generation unable to think clearly, question deeply, or empathise widely.
The antidote is not to ban technology, but to renew our cultural commitment to reading. Before the last chapter closes, we still have a chance to write a different ending.
Paul Budde