On 10 September 2026 the Australian government unveiled what it called “world‑leading” reforms that would compel social platforms to let users opt out of algorithmic curation, branding the initiative “my feed, my way”. The same day, journalist Caitlin Cassidy decided to test the idea herself by activating a little‑known Instagram setting that strips away the AI‑driven feed and shows only posts from accounts you follow, in strict chronological order.
Turning Off the Algorithm
Instagram’s hidden toggle limits the timeline to content from people you actually follow, displaying it exactly as it was posted. Cassidy described the move as an attempt to travel back to 2012, before every scroll felt like an advertisement. She noted that the feature is tucked away in the app’s settings, barely advertised, and that activating it instantly reshapes what appears on screen.
A Trip Down Memory Lane
Before diving into the chronological feed, Cassidy scrolled back to her earliest Instagram posts, finding sepia‑toned pictures of trees, gigs and friends that had garnered a mere eight likes each. She then went through her contact list and unfriended roughly one hundred accounts that were not people she had met in real life, bidding farewell to favourite chefs, meme pages and even the Dallas Cowboys cheerleader she used to follow. The purge left her feeling both liberated and a little wistful.
The Void of Chronological Feed
After the unfollowing spree, Instagram informed her that she had reached the “End of following”, declaring there were no more posts from accounts she followed in the past thirty days. Each refresh yielded nothing new, leaving her instinctively tapping the app out of habit only to find the same static screen. Cassidy described the sensation as being “floored and unmoored”, questioning whether a feed stripped of algorithmic surprise could ever feel engaging.
What the Reform Means
The Australian proposal, announced by Prime Minister Anthony Albanese as part of a digital duty of care draft law, aims to give users control over the opaque recommendation engines that have been blamed for amplifying divisive content and unhealthy trends. Cassidy’s experiment highlighted both the promise and the pitfalls: while a chronological feed can curb endless scrolling and reduce exposure to rabbit‑hole material, it can also leave users staring at an empty screen if their network is too small or too inactive.
During her lunch break, instead of reaching for her phone, Cassidy picked up a book and observed her surroundings, finding the pause oddly refreshing. She reflected on how the algorithm usually serves her a mix of animal videos, food reels and reality‑TV gossip, all tailored to her tastes, and wondered whether the constant personalisation was numbing her critical thinking.
Why it Matters
The trial offers a concrete glimpse into what life might look like if the Australian opt‑out rule becomes law: users could regain a sense of agency over their feeds, but they may also confront the reality that social networks thrive on algorithmic discovery. Policymakers will need to balance the desire for transparency and user control with the risk of making platforms feel deserted, potentially driving people away from the very services the reforms aim to protect.