The Con in Economy
or, Modernity’s Faustian Contract
Modernity promised us many things. Shared wealth. Human flourishing.
We pooled our ingenuity, poured it into machines. Built global networks, brought down borders (virtually). Cured diseases, and extended lifespans by decades.
Civilization advanced. The economy grew.
But did we?
We were promised a share of the spoils. All we got was a slice of rotten pie.
We signed the Faustian contract with a click. “Agree.”
We bought into the lie. Sold ourselves out.
That’s the Con in Economy.
I. Consume
You work 50-hour weeks jumping through bureaucratic hoops.
You burnt yourself out. You ground yourself to the bone for a faceless machine. You earned every cent. It is your right to spend it.
But what do we spend it on? Minimalist furniture at maximum markups. That fidget toy on sale via TEMU. Things we don’t really need, nor do we truly want. To cauterize that gnawing void with another pointless purchase. Just for that short-lived surge of serotonin, delivered right on your doorstep.
They say, “buy experiences, not things”. So fork out $3,000, to immerse in a pre-curated culture. To feel alive on a path already trampled flat by 40,000 other lost souls.
Self-care? Heal thyself with manufactured products: smudge sticks, bath bombs and a weekend retreat to help soothe that pain you can’t name. Fill that hole in your heart for just $79.99.
We’ve commoditized salvation. Like Indulgences that sedate our sorrows. A product product with same-day delivery. (Spend $150 and shipping’s free.)
II. Discontent
The internet was supposed to free us—Enlightenment 2.0.
A knowledge economy built on the Information Superhighway. Humanity’s collective brainpower unearthing truths buried since the foundation of the world.
Instead, we got bullshit at scale.
We got thoughtless leaders. They don’t lead. They LARP.
We got platforms delivering 280-character sermons, monetizing our distraction.
Content creators? No. Dis-content creators. They don’t make. They manipulate. Performative stunts packaged for clicks. Your misery fuels their metrics.
The Influencers? What influence do they peddle? Nothing more than human billboards. Peddling authenticity™ with affiliate links.
We were warned about subliminal messaging. Banned them too. Now we pay $15/month to mainline slop.
The algorithm doesn’t care what you love. Only what keeps you hooked. Drip-feeding you dopamine through doomscrolling.
And you wonder why you feel sick.
III. Hollow thy Soul
We’re overfed, overstimulated, overmedicated—and deeply malnourished.
We confuse validation with value. We swap purchases for purpose. We traded away reverence for relevance.
All this—for comfort, for convenience, and a shot at virality.
Was the bargain worth it??
But you feel it, don’t you?
That dread.
That existential static in your scrolling thumb. The hollow at the center of all this. A space once hallowed and reserved for awe.
Sold for clicks and change.
IV. A Crack of Light
And yet—the world holds space for the real.
A warm hug.
A shared laugh.
The involuntary smile when eyes meet across a room.
Real things. Things worth staying alive for.
Still moments that slip through the cracks in everything.
That’s how the light—faint and flickering—gets in.
Refs and Inspos
“Choose Life” scene from Trainspotting and T2: Trainspotting
Howl by Allan Ginsberg
Meditations on Moloch by ACX (fka SSC)