Duolingo hooked me hard, and I loved every compulsive, dopamine-fueled minute, until I didn’t. Livia Bernardini, CEO of Future Platforms and MAD//Fest host, shares what happens when emotional memory turns into emotional hijack.

Yes, I once praised its perfect balance of brand and UX. Yes, I am now the hypocrite who binned it after 14 days.

“My husband wisely says he never contradicts me. He just leaves me to it for five minutes and I will do it myself.”

He is right. A few months ago, I installed the Duolingo Super Family Pack on my phone (£89.99 a year, up to six people) and then, within two weeks, deleted it again.

Here is the twist. In my very first MAD//Fest newsletter I praised Duolingo as a near perfect blend of brand and experience. Here is that article, if you missed it. I argued that emotional memory, that little pause, smirk or nudge, is the real moat in digital design.

So yes, I am now contradicting myself. Or maybe proving my husband’s point.

Hypocrite? Contrarian? Perhaps. But definitely a woman who sets healthy boundaries with a virtual bird and says no to being nagged by an owl before her first chai latte of the day, no matter how cute it is.

Why Duolingo worked too well

On paper, Duolingo felt like the perfect idea. I am married to a Canadian Mexican French husband, we are a trilingual household, and I am fluent in French myself (with a terrible Italian accent). It promised to help us practise written French, expand vocabulary and add a dose of competition.

Duolingo is designed to be irresistible. That is its genius. Tiny dopamine hits, bright progress bars, cheeky reminders, and the slightly judgy tone of the owl when you skip a session. For most people, that is brilliant. For someone like me, with a competitive streak a mile wide especially against myself, it was a recipe for disaster.

I was not dipping in for ten minutes a day. I was getting sucked in for hours, first thing in the morning, chasing streaks, trying to outscore everyone else in the household leaderboard, and neglecting meditation. The mission was noble. The reality was compulsive. For me, Duolingo tipped from tool into trap.

The data: digital addiction stopped being niche a long time ago

I am not alone.

  • A recent European study found between 14 percent and 55 percent of internet users show signs of problematic use.
  • In the UK, 38 percent of consumers said they want a digital detox because screen time feels excessive.
  • Around one in eight UK adults now report some form of digital or behavioural addiction.
  • Neuroscience studies show internet addiction literally rewires the brain, weakening networks tied to control and reinforcing addictive loops.

And regulators are reacting. The European Parliament has called for bans on addictive design features like infinite scroll and autoplay. In the UK, the Online Safety Act gives Ofcom the power to hold platforms to account for designs that keep people hooked.

It is no longer about poor self control. It is systemic design and regulators know it. The risks for young people are significant. If you have not read it yet, I strongly recommend parents pick up Jonathan Haidt’s The Anxious Generation.

Education or just another screen trap?

What makes Duolingo insidious is that it is not TikTok and it is not a mobile game. It is an app with a good mission: helping people learn languages.

That makes the guilt double. You tell yourself this is education, not entertainment. You even convince yourself that finding fun ways to rehearse is one of the best gifts you can give your kids. But if the design is so sticky you end up spending three hours on “the” versus “la/le/les” instead of living your life, is that really education or just another way to keep eyeballs glued to a screen?

When I confessed to Katherine, one of the best digital product designers in our studio, that I was wrestling with mixed feelings about ditching the owl, she backed me up and laughed in recognition. She had built up a 600 day Duolingo streak and then flew to Germany, excited to put her new skills to the test. But when she arrived, she struggled to understand anything anyone said.

Her conclusion was brutal but fair. Duolingo is brilliant at keeping you on Duolingo. Turns out 600 days makes you fluent in notifications, not conversations. I felt lucky to have broken up with the owl before it turned toxic for me too.

She still valued parts of the app, but over time became cynical about updates that seemed optimised less for learning and more for usage frequency, session length and in app purchases. As a product whiz, she can spot exactly when her wellbeing as a user is being traded for business metrics.

This is where designers, brands and leaders need to tread carefully. Stickiness is not the same as value. Retention is not the same as meaning.

What I learned (and why I hit delete)

I called Duolingo a masterclass in brand and experience. I still stand by that. But living with it taught me very different lessons, the kind you only learn when you hit delete.

  • I do not need streaks. If I want to learn, I will learn. If I want to compete, I will find an outlet that does not involve me bashing verbs at midnight.
  • Attention is finite. Every minute Duolingo took was a minute away from my creative work, my family, or even just meditating or staring into space, which is seriously underrated.
  • The pause matters. One of the most underused tools in digital design is the pause.
  • Mission drift is real. A tool designed to help me learn ended up becoming a game I played about learning. Subtle difference, but huge.

So I killed the streak. It felt like taking a deep breath.

And my kids? They are back at Saturday morning French school. Pen and paper, no app. Reluctant at first, but three weeks in they have already made new friends. My husband was even invited for coffee by a group of francophone dads. Beyond the learning, it has also brought community and human connection, something truly precious in today’s world.

Sometimes the oldest tools are still the best teachers. If designers forget that, they risk mistaking stickiness for meaning.

The fine line between joy and addiction 

For anyone working in digital design, the lesson is sharp.

  • Do not confuse emotional memory with emotional hijack.
  • Do not assume stickiness equals success.

  • Do not design to trap; design to be missed when absent.

Because what really lasts  is still emotional memory, but only if the emotion is joy, surprise or delight. Not compulsive anxiety about losing your streak.

And here is the kicker. In praising Duolingo previously I was not wrong. It is a masterclass in experience craft. But I also had to share what I saw as its shadow side. That does not make me a hypocrite. It makes me the perfect test case. Even the cheerleaders can become casualties.

Closing confession

So yes, I contradicted myself. Or maybe just completed the loop: praising the brilliance, then living the addiction, then stepping back.

And that is perhaps the most useful thing I can offer here. Seductive design does not only work on other people. It works on us, the so called savvy ones.

If I can get hooked, you can too. And if I can hit delete, maybe you should try it as well. Pick one app. One good cause tool. Delete it for a week. See how it feels.

As my husband would say: do not argue with me. Just leave it for five minutes, and you might do it yourself

Livia will be writing for MAD//Insight throughout the year.