The Cost of Comparison - How Social Media Fuels Overconsumption
Santiago Bel
February 5, 2025
A quick peek at Instagram - or TikTok - reveals a constant stream of enviable lifestyles: fresh kicks, glowing skin, exotic vacations. It appears lighthearted, yet this display fuels something bigger; social platforms have cleverly monetized our tendency to measure ourselves against others. These days, platforms do more than link us up; they nudge what we buy, boost wanting things, then worsen excess. They use tactics – showing what others have, playing on worries about being left out, making purchases seem worthwhile – so shopping feels like fitting in.
People generally seek what makes them happy – economists call this ‘utility,’ a feeling derived from things we buy or experiences we have. Ideally, folks pick options to boost that happiness most effectively. However, social platforms throw a wrench into how that works. Folks frequently purchase items hoping to boost their image rather than fulfill actual desires. Seeing others show off possessions leads us to value those things - a $90 hoodie seems justifiable not for warmth or construction, yet due to the impression it gives regarding status or being current.
People often look to each other to figure out what’s worthwhile. It’s a natural tendency; if many are drawn to an item, it seems good. Social platforms amplify this effect, prominently displaying how popular things are through reactions like likes and shares. When people see others enjoying something, they want it too - businesses know that well. Consequently, they employ tactics like partnerships with popular figures, paid promotions, alongside boosting visibility online so items seem universally embraced.
The dread of being left behind - FOMO - really kicks things up a notch. It transforms buying stuff into a frantic competition. Apps such as Instagram alongside TikTok employ never-ending feeds also fleeting posts (think stories or viral crazes) so they manufacture a feeling that you must keep pace. It’s simple: hesitate, then lose out. Repeated nudges twist how we see value – lacking something feels like a real loss, even socially. Especially for those figuring things out, seeking connection, this builds pressure. Consequently, they might spend quickly, acquire too much.
It’s less about wanting things because they’re useful, more about wanting them because others have them – a change that fuels endless desire. People judge what they buy by what their peers possess, not genuine necessity; consequently, demand stays inflated. Things that suddenly get popular shout for notice, not usefulness. Since fads shift fast, any joy feels fleeting, building a loop of quick highs alongside lasting discontent.
These sites boost certain actions via setups built to hold attention - not help how people feel. Posts triggering strong feelings, wanting what others have, or chasing ideals get favored because they ensure folks stick around longer, then spend more time there. These days, ads feel custom-made thanks to what you look at online - they pinpoint things you’re inclined to want. It’s almost like social media hosts an ongoing sale of your focus; marketers compete to appear in your view, aiming to sway what you buy.
It really matters for the whole economy. Buying too much leads to bigger credit card bills, harms the planet via throwaway items alongside trendy clothes, likewise fosters a sense of self-worth based on what we own. Moreover, it warps how we see thriving – seeming like luxury lifestyles equal success instead of genuine security or contentment.
Comparing things carries a price beyond money - it affects how we feel, also how we live together. As comparisons grow, contentment shrinks, despite increased spending. To stop falling for this, just realize online places make money from your insecurities. Spotting that trick lets you decide what things are really worth, so you buy stuff because it helps you – not because others approve.
These days, when everything chases your focus, maybe refusing to buy something is a quiet defiance.