Consumerism and emptiness – manufactured desire in media

The machine tells you that you need something. That life will be better with it. That you must have it, get it now, it’s on sale, that you won’t be complete until you do. That’s how it runs, not by force, but by suggestion, repeated until it feels like your own thought. Selling satisfaction when satisfaction is not something that can be bought.

The same need on the highway-fast isn’t fast enough. Someone doing the speed limit, maybe a hair over, and there’s already another driver locked on their bumper, desperate to get past. They push, they wait, they finally get by, and they end up at the exact same red light, the exact same stop sign, thirty seconds later. No time saved. Nothing gained. But there was a feeling in that moment of passing, the other car sliding back in the window, that same satisfaction as pressing the last piece of a puzzle into place. Real enough while it lasted. Worth nothing after. Perceived accomplishment, dopamine rush ever so momentarily lasting.

Movies are just the polished version of the same trick. They show you who to be, what to want, what’s missing from your life that you never knew was missing until the right lighting and the right soundtrack made you feel its absence. Now you want it. But whose want is it, exactly? Did you come to that on your own, or did the screen suggest it and now you can’t tell the difference? And then there’s the celebrity, perfect, famous, omnipresent. What did they do to earn that? Nothing in particular. No matter. Hand over the money, watch them buy the mansion, and call the whole thing culture.

Then there’s the office. Did you hear? This person’s quitting next week, don’t say anything. Did you hear about so-and-so and what’s-his-name? They broke up. Oh my God. And people stop everything for this. They lean in. They lower their voices. They are genuinely, completely entertained. Which says something. Because these are people capable of real thought, living inside a civilization built on that capability, and this is where the hours go.

The question isn’t why the machine exists. The question is why we keep feeding it. How many people know they’re feeding it and how many are oblivious? Advertising and marketing in business rely on this hungry creature to sell products and experiences to people. When will the monster wither away, will it ever?