Loneliness and Capitalism

Loneliness wasn't engineered—it's been monetized. How the attention economy turned isolation into profit, and why every human connection is now an act of rebellion. —

I don't think the world was built to make us lonely.

I think loneliness became such a profitable side effect that it's now built into the system itself.

It wasn't a secret plan. It was an accident that got turned into a business model.

When Facebook launched, it didn't want to destroy social life. Google didn't want to become a manipulative oracle. Twitter didn't want to polarize public discourse.

They were tools — born with ideals of connection, knowledge, voice. But along the way, they found something far more powerful than any vision: data.

They realized our attention, our time, our emotions could be converted into money with an efficiency no other industry had ever known.

And from that moment on, the goal wasn't to connect people anymore. It was to keep them there.

The attention economy

The attention economy isn't an abstract theory. It's the modern form of capitalism.

It doesn't produce goods, it produces addiction.

It doesn't sell products, it sells habits.

Every scroll, every notification, every ad is a carefully calculated attempt to capture one more second of your life.

And there's no conspiracy behind it: just the inertia of profit.

Companies discovered that isolation makes people docile, anxiety makes them consume, boredom makes them click.

And so, bit by bit, we traded freedom for frenzy.

Relationships for connections.

Community for engagement.

Units of emotional consumption

We went from “social beings” to units of emotional consumption.

More lonely, more fragile, more impulsive.

Sadness today gets fixed with a trip to Amazon. Boredom gets managed with a reel. Anger with a comment.

Every emotion gets monetized, and every interaction feeds a machine that never rests. And the machine, ironically, is built by humans who are victims of it too.

The system's consistency

Big tech companies aren't evil. They're just consistent.

They follow the rules we've all accepted: infinite growth, better quarters than the last, metrics going up.

Doesn't matter if it drains collective attention or burns out a generation's mental health.

Doesn't matter if it destroys trust between colleagues, between friends, between citizens.

All that matters is the curve goes up. 📈

Meanwhile, we — the ants — look around and can't figure out who the enemy is anymore.

There's no “evil boss” or “ruling class”: there's a system that pits us against each other, competition everywhere, empathy dropping.

We work, we consume, we scroll. And at the end of the day we feel empty, but also guilty for feeling that way.

The rebellion of connection

Yet in the midst of all this, one truth remains: humans are social by nature.

Isolation isn't sustainable.

No matter how much the system tries to sell us loneliness as freedom, real freedom is in reconnecting.

Talking, listening, sharing. Saying hi to someone who doesn't say hi back. Being kind to someone trapped in their own bubble.

Not out of niceness, but out of rebellion!

Because in a world that monetizes distance, every act of connection is a political act.

Conclusion

We can't stop the system.

But we can defuse it, one human contact at a time.

And maybe, in the end, that'll be the real “update” to consumerism: remembering to be human.

Books to read

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