The Global Consumer Class is Wrecking the Planet
How My Teeny Shopping Ban is Part of a Really Big Picture
It came to my attention this past week that there’s an entire sub-set of folks who take serious issue with the idea of ‘budgeting’ with particular vitriol aimed at “the phoniest financial fix of them all: the no-spend challenge.”
Of course, it’s no surprise that the idea of No-Spend January is rather popular (it’s really the epitome of a New-Year-New-Me mainstream panic), but naysayers have taken a slightly different position: “All that joy and comfort you experienced over the holidays? Those budget culture gremlins are just around the corner with a heaping dose of judgment and shame to snap you back into restriction and discipline.”
Oof.
This assessment, although it wasn’t hurled directly at me, instinctively made me want to curl into a ball for fear of being perceived as a real-life grinch. I am, after all, in the middle of a 3 month shopping ban.
I’ve engaged in several no-buy challenges over the years, including shopping bans and #NothingNewNovember. But here’s the thing: I’m not voluntarily engaging in some form of budgetary punishment or deprivation. This time around, I’m not even trying to reach a particular financial goal.
For me, a shopping ban is like a soothing hug that reminds me that I have everything I need.
Weird analogy, sure. But I appreciate that my brain gets to be quiet because there are fewer decisions I have to make.
I’ve been diving lately into the neuroscience behind our consumer habits. I’m not a neuroscientist, and never will be (I can assure you that science is not my calling in the world), but I was struck by this aside in Dr. Ann-Christine Duhaime’s fantastic book, Minding the Climate*: My brain is not meant to handle every decision of modern life.
This intuitively makes sense: Our brains were designed to respond to urgent threats and to small but variable rewards— like, for example, unexpectedly stumbling on delicious berries. Finding the berries somewhere I didn’t expect to, in addition to meeting basic caloric needs, motivates prehistoric me to go searching for blueberries again tomorrow.
In the modern world, the delicious berries are more often than not found at the local grocer (where it’s an extreme inconvenience if they are out of stock). But advertisers have stepped in to provide our brain with a modern exercise in these variable rewards: The threat that we’ll miss out when the limited edition drop sells out, the temporary (and, by design, ‘unexpected’) win of a sale, the dopamine hit when a package arrives a day earlier than expected.
But this instinctive brain exercise can be just a tad exhausting when you perform the same mental calculus for each of the thousands of advertisements you interact with every day.
Of course, I recognize that not everybody is deeply soothed by a shopping ban— particularly at first. The first few days or even weeks of a shopping ban can be brutal, because your brain goes into what feels like ‘fight or flight.’ Much like abstaining from social media, if you are used to constantly searching for these small-but-variable dopamine hits through shopping, your brain will still be searching for those rewards when you give it up.
This is why the brain reset is exactly what you might want to better understand your own shopping triggers and to decide what things add real value to your life. In a world of fast conveniences, it’s a beautiful thing to know what spending brings you real joy.
You also might not be motivated by this particular brand of ‘soothing hug, and that’s okay. In fact, you might be the kind of person who has to freeze your credit cards in a block of ice, switch to a cash-only system, or have a 5 a.m. accountability partner to make it through. You might even be the kind of person who thinks a shopping ban is the stuff of nightmares, and that’s okay too.
I’m also not saying that I’ll never shop for anything ever, ever again. I’m very cognizant of the amount of consideration and planning that goes into a shopping ban, particularly when you have to make sure your toddler won’t be rocking high-water pants a mere six weeks into the challenge (whoops).
The Murphy’s Law of Buy Bans
Of course, the buy ban isn’t without its challenges. Every time I’ve undertaken a no-buy challenge, I’ve noticed a truly bizarre number of tiny inconveniences emerge. In the past 6 weeks…
One of my 4 pairs of jeans got a substantial rip.
All but 2 of my shirts have developed multiple irritating, pin-sized holes where the fabric rubs against my jean button. (This NEVER used to happen— but in the past year, I’ve noticed it with every brand, from Bombas to Pact. If this is a depressing spread of fast fashion, I’m SO NOT here for it).
The lid of nearly every Pyrex I own has cracked, unceremoniously depositing little plastic fragments on my counter (or worse, my food).
A can opener broke, and our cutting board split fully in half (this one, did, in fact, require replacing— because the alternative of slicing through plates or countertops didn’t seem very appealing).
Even the universe needs a little laugh.
But here’s what didn’t happen over the last few weeks:
I didn’t wake up with a desperate need to join the hot pink Stanley craze (the point of a reusable water bottle is, rather by definition, to not collect them).
I didn’t succumb to the perfect-toddler-birthday urge to purchase 1,000 mermaid themed ball pit balls that would be destined for a very pastel-colored future in the landfill (I did, however, get a handful from my Buy Nothing group).
And guess what? I’m not shopping, and the world is still spinning on its 23.5 degree axis (or, at least, the scientists— again, I’m not one— haven’t informed me that my shopping ban has changed this). Nobody has alerted the news media or political leaders.
In fact, nobody would notice that I wasn’t shopping if I wasn’t writing about it. It’s not like you would see me on the street and exclaim, “UGH there’s that shabby looking girl who hasn’t been shopping for 45 days. Just look at her shoes— so last month!”
And that’s exactly the point: If I viewed shopping bans as nothing more than deprivation and an exercise in tolerating inconvenience, I can assure you I would not be here. But I know that the stuff life is made of can’t be found on Aisle 5, and a shopping ban is (for me) a great reminder of this.
But there’s also a much bigger, global motivation behind these challenges:
We live in societies that consume more than we need, and more than the Earth can handle.
Substack tells me that I have readers from all 25 countries across the world, including the United States, Canada, the UK, South Africa, Australia, and even India (hi!).
These cultures have plenty of differences— whether January brings frigid temperatures or beach-going weather, the state of our maternity leave policies, and even whether we call fizzy beverages ‘soda,’ ‘soft drink,’ or ‘pop’— but they have one thing in common: A robust ‘consumer class’ of people who can engage in spending beyond basic necessities.
This isn’t a bad thing, of course. It’s generally a positive thing for economic growth, life expectancy, and a host of other factors to be able to make discretionary purchases. But a number of social ills have followed the growth of the consumer class, from fast fashion to highly processed diets, that don’t contribute to life satisfaction (like, at all) and do create serious environmental challenges.
A number of social ills have followed the growth of the consumer class, from fast fashion to highly processed diets, that don’t contribute to life satisfaction (like, at all) and do create serious environmental challenges.
Of course, Western countries like the United States are responsible for a disproportionate amount of excess consumption per person. And equally important, not every person in every culture contributes to excess consumerism and overconsumption— others experience food insecurity or struggle to meet their basic needs.
Our Individual Consumption Matters for the Planet
The average American generates 4.5 pounds of waste per day (amounting to over 1,600 pounds— the equivalent of a literal bison or manatee or polar bear or pick your other favorite gigantic animal). We waste up to 40% of the food we buy (polluting as much as putting 37 million cars on the road). We throw away, on average, more than 80 pounds of clothing per person per year.
If you’re not American, well, you’re probably doing better than us, but not necessarily by much.
China is experiencing a mounting garbage problem— not only from the 7 million tons of recycling the United States unceremoniously shipped to China annually (until a 2018 ban), but also from the well over 600,000 tons of domestic household waste generated every day (the equivalent of depositing around 100,000 elephants in landfills or incinerators… but please don’t do that).
In South Africa, “10.3 million metric tons of food goes to waste each year (about one third of all food produced).”
The average Australian buys “14.8kg of clothing, or 56 new items, every year…making Australia one of the highest consumers of textiles per capita in the world.”
If this overconsumption was actually making us happy, then okey-doke, let’s carry on and just let the planet burn. (Kidding. Still not a good plan.)
But here’s the kicker: IT’S NOT EVEN MAKNG US HAPPY.
In other words: We are consuming things we don’t need, with money we may not even have, that will not make us happy, and it’s destroying the planet in the process. Explain that.
Up next week: I will, in fact, explain that, as we dive into a series on neuroscience and capitalism to figure out what, exactly, makes change feel possible.
Etc.
I loved loved loved this post by
— highly recommend reading this reflection on social media, especially if you aren’t familiar with her already. had a truly lovely reflection this week about the “balms“ of human interaction— “What if we spent time looking to see what balms are offered to us, daily, hourly, by the people we know and love and the people we don’t? It’s easier, I know, to spot the barbs. It’s harder, but far more satisfying, to spot the balms.”+ There’s no shortage of super sucky environmental news, but in kinda YAY news, did you hear the EU is taking steps to ban greenwashing claims? The law, which will go into effect in 2026, will require evidence to support terms ranging from ‘environmentally friendly’ to ‘biodegradable’ or ‘climate neutral,’ and will ban using carbon offsetting as a means to climate carbon or climate neutral status.
Meet me in the comments:
Do you feel like you are a ‘conscious consumer’? Did you have any particular experience/ book/ documentary/ moment that make you think about how much we consume and why?
Where are you reading from? It’s SO cool to see the Substack map of readers— but it’s even better to hear from you!
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Great! I often wonder how to shift our consumer culture without being overly preachy. As a multi-generational thrifter and dedicated cheapskate, it's actually HARD for me to spend $$ to buy new stuff. I was part of the first Buy Nothing community, a very satisfying way to reduce purchasing. We drove 30-year old cars until finally buying a used Bolt EV last year (half the cost due to a GM battery recall). I debate any purchase forever and typically buy used items from Ebay, which often supports home-based businesses. The downside is the amount of energy I spend on the process 🤪 But it's worth it, to honor my love for this Earth. This year: no more Amazon. Thank you for creating beautiful resources to make these shifts!
Great post Jennifer. I have never equated a shopping ban with a 'warm hug' of assurance. But I do routinely simply stop shopping. It has to do with your question at the end - is buying this really going to make me happy?
I use wish lists as my fight against mindless consumerism. When I see something I love and want, I pop it on a wish list - either one from the online store itself or my own spreadsheet. I get the thrill of "shopping" without the price tag. Later I look at the collection of items I have wanted.
Most of the time I never buy any of them at all. They were an impulse, not meeting anything useful for me in the long run. In this way, when I do buy, I am usually pretty darn thrilled with the result. It's not deprivation, it's a process to achieve greater joy.